We found this odd little bar almost by accident, having no expectations for it other than a cold beer and, hopefully, some level of non-creepiness. (From the outside, it looks an awful lot like one of a handful of depressed/defunct internet "cafes" in the area and makes its home on a methadone clinic/day-treatment center-pocked stretch of Maryland Avenue not exactly known for bustling nightlife, or really anything.) Instead, we found a cozy, friendly spot with a near-constant stream of glowing--like, radioactive glowing--Buffalo wings coming out of the kitchen. Those not-too-vinegary, not-too-sweet, perfectly sauced, and perfectly spicy wings have kept us coming back ever since. Order the "suicidal," a glass of water, and thank us later.