Finally, a hangout for landlocked Upper East Side beach bums, where surfboards suspended from the ceiling dangle alongside a faux hammerhead shark and plastic palm trees. Look past the surfer crossing sign, however, and you’ll see this place for what it is: a rowdy sports bar with flirtatious bar vixens, where dudes slam “Jäger Bombs”—Jägermeister submerged in a glass of Red Bull, $7—to the sounds of Top 40 tunes. Far out indeed.
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