On the edge of Chinatown and Little Italy, Tropical shares a block with coin-op laundries and storefronts advertising bodywork. The spacious interior is a tiki cave that could have been designed by someone who equates the South Seas with the Jersey Shore. An outcropping of rock contains the bar. Here’s a forest of bamboo. Sluggish goldfish inhabit half-filled tanks. There is a three-table pool hall in the back, and an “exclusive” basement area opens in January. “Picture taking acid on a nautical trip,” was how Mr. Delzio described it.


It was quiet before midnight on a recent Thursday, although a 20-something man in a Supreme hat elbowed over his beer while making out with a young woman. Later, the crowd surged with graffiti crews, underground rappers, guys with mohawks and mosaics of facial tattoos, old-guard Chinatown denizens, oxford-wearing bros, women with septum rings and Hood by Air tees. They united on the dance floor when Naughty by Nature’s “O.P.P.” blared.


Cheap. Budweiser is $5, Stella Artois is $7, well drinks are $8. Bottle service is available for those want to live like a warlord avoiding extradition.