The Little Woody is a fun place with its high energy crowd. Small and always happening on weekends, this isn't the place to be if you suffer from claustrophobia because it's jam-packed nuts to butts in here.
So here's what you do.
Make up some stupendous bullshit about how you scheduled your bunion surgery for Friday afternoon and need to take off work after lunch...then head to the Little Woody for pre-game. Hang here till the place starts to fill, then bounce around six.
There's a bar across the street on the second floor, I can't remember it's name. They serve giant hamburgers. I know this because some middle-aged guy trying to scam on a girl half his age ordered one and had it split. She didn't eat it because she was all, "What'd you order that for...I don't eat red meat."
Of course she doesn't. But I do. So I winked at the guy and he slid her plate my way.
It was a good half burger. When I was numb, I went downstairs to La Fontanella to eat a bunch of Italian food.
Anyways, oh yeah, The Little Woody is fun when you can have it all to yourself. Otherwise, get ready to do battle with the chick next to you, hoping to get the bartender's attention. Good luck. As if he's going to notice you when her thong is hiked up to her ear lobes and she's wearing a low cut top.
Don't forget to limp into work Monday and remember, you've got ten toes. The bunion thing should get you well into the winter months before having to come up with a new Friday afternoon affliction.