From time to time, a girl needs to visit a clean, friendly dive bar stocked with a handful of middle-aged men to pay a bit too much attention to her. And when that time comes (and if she finds herself already slightly intoxicated and in Lincoln Square), she should stumble over to the two-room hut known as Fantasy Lounge.
On Friday nights, heavy-metal garage bands ferociously clang away inside, and a TV broadcasts the performances above the bar, making it so every patron can fixate on flannel-clad rockers all night long. Or, they can grab a pint of Honey Brown and walk about 20 feet to a room stuffed with picnic tables and stackable chairs to see the same show face to face.
The Fantasy Lounge is a "lean-in" bar; not only do the bands play loudly, but the jukebox that fills in between sets blares Backstreet Boys. Ronnie Vegas, Saturday night's Elvis impersonator, certainly doesn't keep quiet, and you can only imagine the open mic nights on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are, you guessed it, loud.
Downing a few Fat Tires ($7) or Hacker Pschorrs could make a tipsy girl damn hungry. Unfortunately, the Fantasy Lounge doesn't serve any food. But a chica can purchase an Alka Seltzer, Bayer aspirin or an ice-cold bottle of Starbucks Frappuccino from the bartender to silence her ailing stomach before she hails a taxi home.
Centerstage Reviewer: Nola Akiwowo