I love The Cove on a slow Tuesday night. It’s not as smoky, not as loud, and you get much faster service (yes, I am eighty years old). And sometimes, with the right barkeep, you get much cheaper drinks.
But then sometimes you go to The Cove at midnight and the staff runs you off at 1:30, even though 3 is last call and even though there are three of you buying off the menu (in other words, willing to spend money). So then you need a backup plan. Which is the point at which you decide to go home and watch embarrassing videos of yourself and your friends and laugh and laugh until way past your already ridiculously late bedtime.