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When we strolled into this endearingly tacky Latino holdout tucked into a gentrifying residential block, a tipsy twentysomething swiveled his stool our way, raised his hands to the sky and gleefully announced to the four other people in the place: “Finally! You’re here.” It was drunk talk all right, but this stranger summed up exactly how this bewitching bar makes you feel: as if it’s been waiting for you to become a regular all these years.