Mars Bar- This place is not for the faint of heart. 1st street is so divey you’ll probably need a bathysphere to salvage what’s left of your inhibitions on the way out. A staple of the punk crowd since the dawn of time, Mars Bar wastes no time on decoration or ambiance: they let their patrons create both. Graffiti covers literally every surface, and you’re invited to add your own tag, if you can find the free space. Back in the day, rapscallions in tattered pants would hang outside and suck down 40s of bodega-bought King Cobra in hopes of finagling their way inside for a drink. That crowd is all grown up now, and they’re sitting inside on stools, still wearing the same torn-up denim jacket and tight jeans with squatter flaps. Drinks are cheap and potent; this is the kind of establishment that is eternal—it never seems to die. Intimidating to some and home to others, Mars Bar is the kind of place you go to fight or drink while the jukebox effortlessly puts out classic after classic, from Black Flag to Guns N' Roses.