327 West 44th Street
New York, NY 10036
New York County
Phone: (212) 262-1111
Fax: unknownWebsite: Visit our websiteEmail: no email on fileHours: unknown
Babalu Restaurant - About Us
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by Moriah C. on This was a terrible club. Even though they strictly enforce a dress code for men (collar shirts and 90% black shoes) it does not increase the quality of the men. The speakers seemed low quality because there was an undertone or something that made my ears hurt, and they typically do not after other clubs. The space was narrow with men lining the walls expecting women to give them lap dances and what not. Since the dance floor was long an narrow, you would be pushed because a long line of people would want to get by to the back or front. Also, we got to the desk to pay at 10:28 and we had to pay full admission price of $20 even though we were on the 18+ guest list.
by Rudy Schlagel on Concert venue is a 6 star place... The only reason I didn;t give this place 5 stars was because the waitress could have been more attentive. Sometime it's a shame to feel ignored and you have to make your presence noticed. I tip well and gave the twenty I was going to give to the wairtress to the hostess, now she was a class act, friendly and sat me at a table that was perfect. She was the one that actually had the waitress get me a drink, food ? forget it didn't even bother because of how long she took to get me my drink.
by Jerald Chaney on I've been going to this place for years, usually as an after-work spot where I end up getting wasted with my friends, and waking up the next day to find new cell phone contacts such as "Liz the Hag" or "Obviously Bi-Curious Dude 2". The most recent visit was just two nights ago for a Christmas get together with a highschool friend. My younger brother came along to meet his friends as well. The parking is always a madhouse on weekends. Logistically, I don't get it. There is a huge parking lot you'd think could be functional, but I've never found a space even remotely close to the bar in all the years I've been coming here. It works out though; I usually park over by Furniture Row anyway so no nosy cops see me getting into my car. Oh yeah I forgot--cops are always standing RIGHT OUTSIDE, usually talking to the doormen or wasted patrons who inexplicably decide to engage a police officer in conversation. Walking up to the bar, I can already hear on the front patio the deep baritone of drunken young men, verbally posturing and preening in that obnoxious straight guy way to get the attention of girls. It's a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard without a sufficient amount of liquor to convert it into white noise. The doorman checks my ID, but man, if looks could kill. You'd think he was one of those Israeli Mossad guys who come on buses and planes to scan the passengers for terrorists. His piercing gaze not only verified my age and identity, but had pierced my very soul. And I haven't had even one damned cocktail yet. The interior is classic Irish/British pub and if it weren't for the throngs of weekenders you can enjoy the atmosphere more. I love the big burgundy leather chairs to sit in (or a booth), but the bar is terribly uncomfortable to sit at with all the foot traffic behind you. I order my first pitcher at the side well and the bartender is friendly enough. My brother and I sit to wait for our respective friends....both of them bringing their volatile significant others, which to me meant an astronomically high chance of them having a fight and not making it to Sherlock's at all. The patio is pretty big, allows smoking, and is split on two sides, so there's always plenty of room outside. The fact that it was chilly may have explained why I got a table so fast. The Sherlock's crowd is a mixed bag, but not nearly the train wreck of Cool River. It's mostly young people, coworkers out for some social time, lots of couples, some hot guys, a skank or two for good measure, and the aging yuppies desperately trying to cling to a shred of their youth until they have to go home at 11 to pay the sitter. By a Christmas miracle, everyone made it without a fight, and the waitress came to take our orders. While the waitstaff is nice, it takes a little while to get your order, so I usually just go inside and get it from the bar myself. It also helps so you don't have to transfer your tab back and forth. They had a live band in the large room off the main pub area, and I've caught a few good acts here. The current band was playing an erratic, decade spanning set that was mildly amusing. I rarely get drunk enough to start thinking a mediocre band is off the charts good, but you'll notice plenty of people dancing and screaming like they were at the best f*****g concert of their whole entire lives. But it's a good time. Two notes though on the performance: 1.) I don't believe for a second, Mr. Vaguely Attractive Guitar Man, that a hot girl on the dance floor passed you a note that said "Meet us at the Motel 6, Room 204 after the show" and 2.) When a girl is drunk enough to start stripping to your cover of "Pour Some Sugar On Me", make sure she's not one of the ugliest possible women in the place. Even Sherlock's is better than saggy boobs and bargain-bin Wal-Mart tops that look like post-plastic surgery bandages. Plastic surgery, I might add, that woefully did not take place. If you read an earlier review of Bum's, you know I don't play pool, but on the opposite side of the main pub area there are plenty of tables to choose from. From the limited time I've spent in this part of the bar I always got the impression there was too little space and too much testosterone and ego to actually play a game without some other men challenging you, watching your game, and generally taking the fun out of the whole thing. Two pitchers and a shot of Jack later, I went up to the bar to order another. An intoxicated girl next to me bought ME a Jaegerbomb because SHE was having a bad night. WTF? I was going to hit her up for another round until she loudly told me she knew I was gay and that she had gay people in her family and loves them. I think I said something to the effect of unless your family member is a man, smoking hot and here at the bar with a supply of condoms, I don't really see what that had to do with me. All in all, a great Sherlock's night!
