D'Arcy McGee's reminds me of Casey Moore's lameass cousin who shops at Wal-Mart, invites clients to dinner parties and talks about work every second you're with him. It's just so corporate. Everything that could be potentially perceived as being a "pub" or "Irish" or "fun" is whitewashed with wholesome, Tempe Marketplace diarrhea.
My main complaint is that it seems like a bar that my aunt and uncle would love. They'd think the décor was really cute and they'd then become regulars.
I feel a little bad for the girls that work there. They wear these plaid miniskirts and these high socks and it's just the ideal image for a pervy, fatass businessman to drool all over.
That being said, this place isn't all bad. The one advantage it has is that it's pretty damn close to the movie theater. So, conveniently enough for me, I can slip in, grab a couple beers and a couple cocktails and watch something good and buzzed.
Oh, and one time I smoked a cigarette outside and I saw someone hock a loogie onto a cop car. I laughed.
Two stars for the loogie and for the convenient location.