Time was, a newbie at PJ would have his underwear snipped off by a friendly barman—a hallowed rite of initiation. The briefs were then hung, with hundreds of others, from ropes overhead. While that tradition has ceased, the village’s preferred pub still has a gregarious, guffawing, flirty crowd. Bears and leathermen convene on weekend nights, but PJ also operates as a neighborhood joint where all sorts take their post-work bevvie. Lineups for the Sunday afternoon kegger are infamous—you’ll want to arrive plenty early.
All Rights Reserved © 2010