Mars Bar

I was in this paradise many nights in 1993, 1994 and 1996 with other frogs, exellents souvenirs, perfect place and people.

I almost got stabbed in this shit hole back in 2005. Two guys literally had a knife fight next to me and my manger at the time. But they were so drunk the fight was in slow motion. It was terrifying and hysterical at the same time. Like watching the knife fight in West Side Story… but in slow motion. I guess that’s why I didn’t get up right away. At least not until the one guy furthest away lunged at the guy closest to me with the knife but missed so bad he almost stabbed me! He instead hit the bar. I remember everyone else at the bar, including the bartender, just watched this fight and did nothing. Mind you there were less then 10 people in the bar, which made it feel crowded because it was very small. Anyway, I got up, left my beer behind and we walked out. I remember we smoked a cigarette outside and talked about what just happened and were laughing our asses off. I think we went to Bereket after. And that was the last time I saw my then manger and the last time I went in that pisshole.
I want to say, «Too bad it closed» but this joint was like an old dog that should have been put to sleep a decade sooner. This is the one and only time I’m gonna say, «Thank God for that new multi million dollar condo shit show that went up»

gone but not forgotten!!!
miss this place!!!

The Diet Coke @ Mars Bar was sometimes really good. It came in a little clear plastic baggy and on several occasions almost made me mess in my pants.
Yes I know Mars Bar is no longer in existence but the smell of coke farts, body odor and well liquor will forever remain in my nose.
To say I met a lot of interesting people at Mars Bar would be an understatement. The cast of freaks, artists, drug dealers, drunks and hoodlums was like no other and can never be duplicated… But the one person that I wonder about most Is the guy that lived in the basement.
Yes there was a guy that lived in the basement.
I never met this man, I don’t know his name and I have no idea what he looks like. But to this day every time I walk past what is now an almost complete shitty building of condos.
I think to myself… Where does that guy who used to live in the basement live now?

Good bye my friend. You will be missed.
I drove by hundred times before I first walked in. You where a charcter who open the door. You never cared who you where. You just made everyone feel good and at home. The first time I came in you said hello. Now today I say so long. One day we will meet again in a different form. Until then we will be bored.

So long, you stinky, smelly, scary bathroom, ‘Oh my god please guard the door so no one busts in on me!,’ ‘don’t order a drink that comes in a glass’, advised a friend who used to barback there, free drinks, cool bartenders, old punk rock, kick ass jukebox, many a fight broke out, hang out after ex-boyfriend’s band played at the Continental (when it was a punk rock bar), tattered upholstered barstools, stumble out of there near 6am in 1999, bar.
i think you ran your course after i started to see gawkers, and NYU students there years ago.
i will think of you fondly. you can now join Coney Island High and CBGB’s…

Fuck, I love dive bars; I went here with a friend last night to soak up the atmosphere. I couldn’t help congratulating myself for not drinking, thereby avoiding the $ 6 draft beers – although I have to wonder: with all the money I’ve saved not drinking for over 20 years, why don’t I have a house in the country or at least an IRA?
My 50-​year-​old friend got proofed and was offended; I guess they do it to everyone. I was reluctant to come here, but it was like Br’er Rabbit saying, «Please don’t throw me in dat briar patch!» I get a contact buzz just from being there.
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Edit: Sadly, Mars is closing by the end of this month. «Thanks for the memories» is painted on the marquee outside.

This bar has bottled up that uneasy subway feeling of «I hope that guy doesn’t touch me, just in case that stench happens to be him.»
If you stay longer than a drink, you’ll realize that the stench is neither him, nor the guy in the corner, but rather the bar itself. If you stay longer than five drinks, you’ll realize that you have now become part of the stench, and that the stench has become a part of you, if only for a little while.
But despite its olfactory issues — or perhaps, in part, because of them — Mars Bar has the remarkable distinction of being the only place I know that is never, ever boring.
And when it’s gone, a small, but important piece of the city will go with it.

Its a dive bar, i get it. But i was twisted when my friends took me there. Prices for drinks are reasonable and they ave BRUGAL shots. Décor is. what décor, its nothing. grapity everywhere and thats it.
STAY the HECK away from the latrine. its nasty. besides that its an ok place to stop by, do not bring dates here, they will hate you.

I like dive bars because they often blur the line between functional establishment and disease infested closet. Mars Bar takes it a step too far, out of fun territory and into disaster land.
It smells of rotting corpse, the service is poop and the locals are frightening. Someone call the health/​morality department ASAP. If you think everything aforementioned is «cool», it’s really not — this place is just not fun.
I’d rather sniff glue with a homeless man in a trash ridden alley than go back to Mars Bar.

Nowhere near as scary as I expected. Come on, people. I went here with friends seeking a badge of honor. We’d heard stories of stretchers coming out of this bar; it was supposed to be the place where alcoholics go to die. The jukebox had good CDs, there was a guy wearing a cool shark t-​shirt, they had Rolling Rock. I was wearing a Betty Draper dress and even in spite of that, people weren’t bothering me. They probably thought I was the weirdo.
Just beware, I hear the bathrooms don’t have locks.

«Red, red wine
Stay close to me
Don’t let me be alone
It’s tearin’ apart
My blue, blue heart
Red red wine you make me feel so fine
You keep me rocking all of the time
Red red wine you make me feel so grand»
Mars Bar will take patrons to the 1980s era of what gives the term dive bar its true meaning! I came here after a open-​mic poetry reading at the nearby renowned Bowery Poetry Club with my newfound poets/​friends including my belove «poet husband.» Upon entering, a strong stench of paint clouds one’s lungs in this dingy bar where only beer and wine are available. Actually the strong stench is close to a dead body buried inside the walls of Mars Bar for over a decade. The walls including ceiling are plastered with doodles of writing mix with art, graffiti, quotes, messages. The stools and chairs are all purposely broken to fit a dive bar’s setting. Bottle beer and wine, no mixed drinks as it’s not equipped a full service bar yet the price is very reasonable. A jukebox is the source of music to contribute to the stench of paint. The atmosphere is dark and dingy. The ceiling is long overdue for a fresh paint job.
I rate Mars Bar five stars, despite not having a full-​service bar which I was hoping for my favorite cocktail (s), I opt for red wine to match my red jacket. «Bar tender… one glass of red wine for the lady in red, please!»

Puke.

Cheap Drinks… Very 1980’s south bronx movie esq…
People are just bugged out… service is actually pretty decent…
I once walked by with my mom… I said I hang out there sometimes…
She has called me every day since then to make sure I am ok.
Mars Bar brought my family closer.