It's a dive bar of "epic proportions" sitting right in the middle of the tourist district, and the single most important fact about it is the walls: for close to twenty years, people have been tacking dollar bills up them, and the same goes for the ceiling, the rafters, the back bar, the doorframe. The rest of the room is bumper stickers, exposed wood, and a wide beer list that runs from PBR to a Coast Brewing kolsch from a few blocks away. Bon Appétit made the case that this is one of the few American bars that actually pulls off the English pub vibe instead of just gesturing at it, and I think they're right.
The food is exactly what it needs to be - fried pickle spears, club sandwiches, the standard soak-up-the-beer fare - and the bartenders are the kind that make a loud room feel like a good one. It's cheap, it's loud, it's a mix of locals and tourists and the occasional business traveler who wandered in off the wrong street, and on a Sunday night it's just as alive as anywhere else in the city.