Please Don’t Tell But I’ve Never Had A Drink at Please Don’t Tell

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One of my favorite New York novelties is the existence of Please Don’t Tell in New York’s East Village. On St. Marks, between 1st and A, is a hog dog emporium called Crif Dogs. Looks innocent enough. But what you don’t realize, unless you know the secret, is that the phone booth that you see on the left when you walk in? It’s really a secret entrance to what’s supposed to be one of New York’s best bars, a bar called Please Don’t Tell. We’re big fans of the P.D.T. cocktail book but I’ve never actually been to Please Don’t Tell. Many a time I’ve gone into that phone booth, dialed a number, and many a time I’ve been told there’s an insanely long wait. And every time, including this most recent time, we decide not to wait. But still…

…the process is so cool. Here’s the phone booth:

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Here’s the sign you see inside:

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And here’s Craig talking to the woman once the secret door opened:

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On this particular occasion she said it would be 30 minutes which wasn’t so bad. So we went to the used book store down the street, waited 30 minutes, and when we came back the same woman said it was still another 30 minutes which is when we gave up.

It’s really our fault, though, because you can make a reservation there the same day I just always forget to do that. So next time? You can tell the world that I finally had a drink at Please Don’t Tell.

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