Iffy’s Place

Fair drinks, at least in terms of Jack & Cokes. But, no stir!!!

It has everything I want in a bar: cheap and strong drinks, a pool table, a kickass jukebox, and people who won’t talk to you.
The name is exactly what my first impression of the bar was before entering. Yet, when you’re stuck in Albany bored and sober as hell, there’s no reason to pass up a place based on its shady appearance or the fight in progress right outside the door. It made me realize that this is what all the faux dives in NYC wished they were.
You end up here for one (or all) of the reasons as outlined in Iffy’s motto: Drink. Fight. Fuck. It is a place for people who hate the college bars. Pool sharks rule the billiards table– the brightest part of this dimly-​lit establishment– and will most likely kick your butt in the game as skillfully as they can break your face outside of it. It’s a haven for people who just want to mind their own business and get away from the world, or themselves. It attracts the most diverse demographic of miserable souls, mental states, and deviants in every social class that exists in the capital of our Empire State. One of my favorite regulars is a woman with Tourette’s, who isn’t afraid to say exactly what I think all the time, to pretty much everyone who comes within one foot of her:“If you get in my way, I will FUCK YOU UP!“
It’s technically Iffy’s II, as this is a rusty phoenix of its original location that was torn down for parking an indefinite number of years ago. No one seems to know how old this bar is. The only thing you need to know is that the nicest person in there is the bartender, who is armed with a smile and enthusiasm to get you wasted on $ 3 beers and $ 5 cocktails so strong that anyone caught drinking them here is immediately associated with addiction of some kind.
This is a joint I will definitely return to when I’m in town. If it’s not to get completely trashed, it will be to get my dad lotto. Did I mention they have a lotto machine? Maybe I’ll come back to drown my sorrows in more hard liquor when I find out I didn’t hit the Mega Millions jackpot.