Imagine that in the Cold War 1950s, your hippest, thrift-store-shopping uncle built a bomb shelter that could double as a cocktail lounge. That's this place: So casual and funky and dimly lit you'll forget you're not underground - unless you're chilling on the big patio outside. You don't have to wait for the return of Mutually Assured Destruction to sequester yourself in this crypto-swanky gin mill and drink to your own personal perestroika. Your comrades are probably already waiting for you, too. And the barkeeps? See next entry.
