The Merc has been around since before Biltmore lost its hip, and it is still a cozy bar at times, but as the working crowd clears out on a weekend, it becomes a little too skeezy for comfort. If we're ordering bottles of spendy bubbly, we kind of like to chat, and once the deejay sets up, the throb is way too loud for the tiny venue. The swank dressiness of the place descends into stripper sleaze, and all before 11:00 pm. Offering more than crockpot meatballs on the menu might help, as would offering valet service. The couches and tables are comfy, though, and the service friendly and quick as ever. I guess it's become a pre-shift watering hole for the Van Buren troops of dancers - an attraction for some and a repellant for others.