For the final happy hour of 2010, my pepes agreed to meet at the original scene of our many crimes: Lunasa in the East Village. That is, until we walked in to discover our once-coolio Irish tavern had been hijacked by hundreds of millennial yuppies. Egads!We quickly rejiggered our plan to a dive joint across the street, the more downtown-friendly, seedy Tile Bar, where drinks were $3 a pop. Perfecto! Home again!
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