Meehans Ale House is like St. Patty's Day on a nightly basis. If you're on a date and looking for nouveau furniture and unusual lighting so you can feel sophisticated, don't come here. My friends and I walked into Meehans and began drinking. You can't help it. The dark wooden walls, booths and tables felt like I'd tripped into a rural Irish bar. I almost wanted someone to call me "lass". No one did.
There were no bar games, save one dartboard hidden in a corner, and we were forced to talk to jubilant strangers -- mostly twenty and thirty-somethings. We joked around and fed the fictional Irish blood flowing somewhere in our veins. Fortunately, the bar had Guinness, Boddingtons and Harp on tap. We took advantage.