Candy-apple-red booths (vinyl, natch), an air of intrigue, stiff drinks poured by chill bartenders and a killer jukebox that, to my ear, doesn't promote one throwaway tune form the endearing vibe at this Denver dive that's also the perfect spot for tucking into a dark corner and snogging.
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There's a menu, too, with waitress-recommended fried mac-and-cheese wedges that you could never convince me to eat again, even if Kraft promised to leave me its entire fortune. But this isn't a bar for foodinistas -- not by a long shot. It's a moody joint that's full of interesting, low-key people who like their liquor doubled and their conversations kept private.
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