The Post explores the world of Superdive and dive bars today. Fasten your seat belts! We're going in!
With its clean taps, friendly service and young, attractive patrons, Superdive is in many ways the anti-dive. Where's the bearded tranny? The surly, toothless barmaid? The non-functioning alcoholic cashing his SSI check for another round? Sure, it's teeming with college students looking to get wasted, but where's the dank?
Unlike New York's classic old-man bars, Superdive is neither moody in decor (it has large front windows and light pinewood accents) nor spirit (its patrons are prone to high-fives and huzzahs). "People are coming to celebrate," says manager Keith Okada. "Not to get dark and down in a hole."
[M]aybe Superdive's no-frills, keg-centric vibe is just what the Type A alcoholics of tomorrow are looking for. "In a world where everything is so designed and chichi, we just wanted a nice place where people can sit, relax and not feel pressured to spend mega amounts of money," says Okada.
And you have to agree, it sure beats $20 mixed drinks.
And if the list of more than 700 beers -- from a $180 sixtel (one-sixth of a keg) of UFO Hefeweizen to a $360 half-keg of Coors Light -- proves too overwhelming, "keg master" Matt Breinich will help you navigate the list.
Breinich's duties don't end there: "I haven't seen any beer pong disputes, but if there was one I would certainly be there to help resolve it."
In addition to Ping-Pong balls, the bar also keeps cards, dice and poker chips on hand for impromptu drinking games. (Keg stands, however, are officially frowned upon.) Meanwhile, the piano underneath the perpetually lit "Applause" sign in back of the bar may be the site of future "Hair Metal Karaoke" nights. And instigating the party some weekends is mini-metal head Nick Reddy, who's been known to jump on the bar and dole out Jager shots to ecstatic college kids.
With its emphasis on drunken comradery, the frat bar has a direct lineage to the dive bar -- even if it does stem from a love for competitive drinking and Dave Matthews. If dive-bar habitues are self-loathing outsiders, then their frat-bar brethren are the cool kids at the party, explaining why Superdive initially comes off as exuding typical jock one-upmanship.
"You hear the concept and it sounds like it could be too much of a frat party or too whatever, but it hasn't been. The people who come in are excited about the concept, they want to come back," says Breinich.
It may not smell like stale beer -- yet -- but Superdive does smell like a winner: It's currently booked almost a month out on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights -- so if your name isn't on the guest list, good luck getting past the front door. "We're working on those hiccups," says Okada. But try telling that to the dejected- looking guys outside.