Star Bar   

If the Gaslamp bars and nightclubs were the Royal Family, Star Bar would be the boozy old uncle everybody keeps trying to push off the terrace. It's the place time forgot, or just ignored. Either way, the Star is a weird enclave, with its red carpet (that hasn't been cleaned in so long it's probably archeologically significant), red bar stools, red booths and red ceiling. Combine the redness with the gold and silver tinsel strung thoughout, knock back a few drinks at happy hour, and you might just think you're inside some crazy Christmas ornament. The drinks are stiff and cheap, and for decades the Star is where hardcore downtown old-timers have shuffled to hunch over the bar and disappear into their glasses. Meanwhile, the women who now run the place are scampering about in the semi-darkness, calling everybody "Joe" and speaking shrilly into their cell phones. Welcome to another planet.