In the days of my youth when Robert Plant was telling me what it is to be a man, the drinking age on the NYC Avenues was 21, on the Streets...16, if that. The Blarney was the perfect 'street' bar, close to MSG, had cheap suds and a couple of grainy 24" tvs turned to the sporting event du jour. It catered to the working class man and young kids looking to get their drink on before concerts and games. It was nestled between a couple of peep shows and was the only pub on the street. In other words, it was perfect. Over time as its legend grew and 33rd St became an 'Avenue', crowded and commercial...the blarney stuck to its guns and remained the quintessential dive bar (until it put that fancy rooftop bar in, but I digress). The early bird still gets the worm, but now getting in the Blarney is a skill. Its like a 7' center knocking down a couple of 3s or a Syracuse guard making free throws, it doesn't happen very often...but when it does...it's majestic.