Hardly a destination establishment, Snickers is the kind of place that might have prompted John Fogerty to pen "Lodi." The clientele here seems depressed and the cocktails are poorly made and overpriced. Still, Snickers is a prime candidate for your new favorite haunt, if for no other reason than the fact that you can sit for hours trying to figure out what the hell is going on with the staff here.

Obscenely attractive bartenders and servers mingle with the cartoonish provocateurs of Chicago's underbelly. We suggest alternating cheap domestic beer with whiskey, playing Russian roulette with the jukebox and acting like a regular. If people-watching gets old, you could always hone in on the television tuned to the game.

Chicago's seediest aren't the only things lurking inside of Snicker's—there is also a deli here. Some question the food's safety, but enough booze can sterilize anything, and the grilled options actually taste pretty good. Grab a burger or a gyro, a few more shots of whiskey, and you might be ready to settle in for the night—or the morning, for that matter. The crack-of-dawn opening time is ideal for aspiring alcoholics or insomniacs, and makes Snickers a prime—if ironic—locale for the after-after-after party.

Centerstage Reviewer: K. Tighe