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| - New Yorkers outside of New York strike me as really obnoxious. They're always going on about the frickin Yankees, bitching about how there's no good pizza for thousands of miles, or, when they feel sappy, whining about how they miss autumn. When I kindly suggest that they move back to this seemingly wonderful place whence they came, they always respond with some variation of "Fuck off." Just trying to be helpful!
So I was a little skeptical of Native New Yorker, but that was dumb, because this is a first class establishment. Immediately striking is that the sports bar portion of the building is well-lit, awesome since its a rarity in bars around these parts. Who can blame a man for wanting a good look at the ladies and what he's about to eat?
And what he should eat is the chicken wings, because they're damn good, and this is coming from a guy that usually doesn't bother because navigating chicken skin and tendons to try and get full is a pain in the ass. Naturally the wings are served in a variety of flavors and intensities, similar to Buffalo Wild Wings except delicious. The "suicide" flavor isn't overpoweringly spicy, but it certainly offers some kick. What really makes the wings special, though, is the texture. The very outermost layer of these meaty delights offers a touch of crispness that might suggest a brief moment spent on the barbecue, but then your teeth sink right into the meat of the tender morsel. Plus if you come just for drinks and aren't really hungry, you can order as few as one wing for the sake of something to chew on. Grand idea.
Also, the karaoke here is pretty awesome because it's actual sloppy drunk people instead of American Idol wannabes, just like God intended. And the beer is cold. Amen.
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