so a couple of things about this place: first of all, who needs pricey valets, city-sanctioned parking spaces, or even a club? brooklyn is hardcore and i’d expect no less of their parking skills. below you will see a stellar example of an ingenious cyclist who hung and locked their bike to an awning. anyway, back to the commodore….on a sunday night, this place was surprisingly packed (i guess williamsburg hipsters don’t work 9-5s so every night is a friday night <insert kenny g interlude here>). dimly lit but surprisingly expansive, the tables of this dive bar were covered in empty beer cans and discarded chicken bones of bohemians past. my friend graciously pushed through the masses to order me their namesake cocktail (i do love a piña colada), and managed to get offered a drink by a fellow patron, none other than legendary guitarist captain kirk douglas of the roots. except that she had no idea who he was and turned it down. ‘cuz that’s just how cool she is (nevermind the googling that happened later).