So I set out to find the worst bar in New York. But maybe I was missing out on some great-that is, terrible-bars because I didn't know about them. You can't find that sort of bar in New York, at least not the sanitized, gentrified New York I live in today. It was inside a trailer, you had to light a match to see two feet from your face, and it was inhabited by cockroaches large enough they could solve algebra equations. The best bar I've probably ever been to was in New Orleans, in a neighborhood that our taxi driver did not want to take us to. The bars I like are the ones that make me afraid. That is, except, if your definition of good is "objectively bad." For people like me, the ultimate test for any drinking establishment is that it induces discomfort in all who enter it.
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