The Best Places in the United States

Extended-stay hotel near Savannah's airport with full kitchenettes in every room, meaning a real cooktop, full-size fridge, dishwasher, and actual dishes. The four room layouts include pull-out sofas for when the family situation gets complicated. Complimentary breakfast rotates through eggs, grits, waffles, and bacon, which softens the blow of any early flight. A major outlet mall is close enough to do real damage between check-in and checkout.

The cinnamon rolls at the complimentary breakfast are the kind of detail that gets mentioned in reviews more than the rooms do. This tidy Holiday Inn Express sits just outside Savannah proper and runs four interior-corridor floors with 98 rooms and suites, the latter adding a sleeper sofa for groups who need the space. Coffee runs around the clock in the lobby, rooms are clean and straightforward, and the gym is there if you feel like using it.

Sotol on the menu is a flex few New York bars can match. This Hell's Kitchen tequila and mezcal bar leans deep into Mexican spirits, with a list that runs well past the usual suspects. Sotol, distilled from the Desert Spoon plant and sometimes called tequila's northern cousin, is a rarity here, and finding it alongside a serious mezcal selection gives the drinks menu a reason to linger over it.

Apotheke sits on Doyers Street, the crooked Chinatown alley once nicknamed Bloody Angle for the tong wars fought there, behind a red awning that still reads "Gold Flower Restaurant." Inside, the former opium den has gone full Victorian apothecary, all candlelight and curios, with a five-ton marble bar where the bartenders play doctor. The cocktails lean medicinal and elaborate, which suits the room perfectly.

An unmarked door across from the Tribeca Grand opens onto a staircase that leads down to a dimly lit basement cocktail bar, all booth seating and bar stools, with smooth jazz doing most of the decorating. The cocktail list is named after jazz standards, which sounds gimmicky until you're two drinks in. Classics are handled with care, and the room has the kind of quiet self-confidence that doesn't need a sign out front.

Leather-bound journals line the shelves of this hushed, clubby cocktail bar near the UN, where wooden monkey sculptures hold the lamps and cigar smoke hangs in the air like a gentleman's agreement. The crescent booths and soft lighting give it the feel of a classic hotel sitting room that decided to serve drinks instead. Jazz plays just loud enough to cover the conversation of the business crowd unwinding after whatever it is they do.

The log-cabin feel is no accident: red wood ceiling, timber-clad walls, and a long solid bar give this neighborhood pub on Magazine Street the warmth of somewhere that's been broken in properly. It draws locals and Tulane students rather than tourists, with around fifty taps pouring everything from Abita Andygator to Belgian ales and American microbrews. A good place to disappear into a beer and feel like a regular by the second round.

A cocktail bar tucked into what used to be a private office inside Grand Central, designed to look like a 13th-century Florentine palace because its original occupant simply wanted the biggest room in New York. The vaulted ceiling and dark wood do most of the heavy lifting, so the drinks don't need to be extraordinary to make the visit feel like one. Come dressed for it; the room sets a standard and most people read the memo.

The California poppy, "copa de oro" in Spanish, cup of gold, lends its name to this Santa Monica cocktail bar a couple of blocks from the beach. Terracotta tile, dark wood, and a resident artist's work on the walls give it a warm Hispanic character that tips, even on a Wednesday, toward a genuine party. The kind of place that starts feeling festive before you've finished your first drink.

A Mid City corner bar in an otherwise residential stretch, Crescent Sausage and Pie is the kind of neighborhood spot that keeps the lights a little too bright and doesn't apologize for it. Fragments of the original building, lost to Katrina, are worked into the walls, which gives the place a quiet history lesson you weren't expecting. The cocktail list is short; come for the atmosphere, not the mixology.

You ride a repurposed service elevator to reach this speakeasy-inspired rooftop cocktail bar perched atop the Rafaello Hotel. Dim lighting, dark wood, bronze fixtures, and mushroom-toned walls set a moody, upscale tone, and a resident DJ keeps the energy pointed firmly toward party. The crowd skews young and loud, so if you're after a quiet drink and a view, the elevator goes both ways.

The mahogany back bar has been here since the Wild West era, and Elixir wears that history without trying too hard. It's a proper neighborhood dive on the Mission-Castro border, the kind where dog walkers fill the stools by late afternoon and nobody opens a cocktail menu. A dartboard in the corner, sports on the TVs, and regulars who clearly consider this their living room, just one with a liquor license.

Frozen Irish Coffees come out of a slushie machine here, and locals have been treating that as a perfectly reasonable life choice for a long time. Erin Rose is a small, dark Irish bar just off Bourbon Street, walls thick with photos, neon, and memorabilia that nobody has bothered to organize and nobody wants removed. Guinness and Harp on tap, conversation guaranteed from both sides of the bar, and a crowd that skews more neighborhood than tourist strip.

The outdoor fire pit is a small but genuine surprise for a highway hotel off I-95, giving Richmond Hill road-trippers somewhere to decompress that isn't a parking lot. This Marriott property runs four stories and 85 rooms, with pillow-top beds, streaming-ready TVs, EV charging, and a complimentary hot-and-cold breakfast each morning. A fitness center rounds things out for those pretending the trip counts as a workout.

Cold Amber beer, live jazz, and a room that looks like nothing has been touched since the Nixon administration. Fritzel's is a no-frills jazz pub on Bourbon Street that skips cocktails, skips mood lighting, and skips any pretense of being a bar that cares about its wine list. What it has instead is the music, which is the whole point, and an atmosphere that feels less performed than almost anything else on the block.

Ivy trellises climb the walls of the rooftop bar on the 15th floor, which is the one worth engineering your evening around. Ian Schrager, who gave the world Studio 54 and the Delano, put his stamp on this Gramercy landmark, and the result is three bars across the hotel, each with a crowd dressed like they had somewhere better to be and came here anyway.

A top-floor hotel cocktail lounge perched above Powell Street, the Starlight Room is essentially a finishing school that graduated half the notable bartenders in San Francisco, Tony Abou-Ganim and Jacques Bezuidenhout among them. The room got a significant makeover not long ago, all plush red furniture and gold accents, which makes it feel like old-school glamour with a fresh coat of ambition.

The narrow passage to the left of the bar does not lead to a secret larger room; that's just the toilet. Hazlewood is a tiny cocktail bar in Ballard, once a coffee shop, where the counter is a few strides from the door and the upstairs lounge has the square footage of a treehouse. Come on a quiet weeknight and you'll spend a moment genuinely confused about where everyone is supposed to sit. The answer, apparently, is close together.

The floor tilts so sharply that the table legs have been sawn down just to keep your drink from sliding off. This ancient saloon, built from whaling ship timbers and barely changed since forever, sits in the middle of a modern plaza like it missed the memo. Jack London drank and wrote here, then name-dropped the place seventeen times in "John Barleycorn." Order something simple and let the lean do the work.

Pressed tin walls funnel you into a room that keeps opening up, Tardis-style, past antique mirrors and grandma lampshades, through a long bar, out to a yard. This Williamsburg neighborhood bar shape-shifts through the week: beer and shots early on, wine mid-week, cocktails by the weekend, and DJs after 10pm Thursday through Sunday when the volume climbs and the whole thing quietly becomes a nightclub without ever making a formal announcement.

Tucked below Pike Place Market where the street tilts toward the water, this Italian restaurant bar is easy to miss, which is half the point. The bar area is compact and carefully stocked, with grappa, cognac, and malt whisky sitting alongside cocktails that get proper attention. The bistro setting around it is relaxed enough that nobody is checking how long you've been nursing your drink.

A steel gallery runs high around the room, stacked with antique bric-a-brac as if the trading company never quite unpacked. This atmospheric Tribeca bar leans heavily on the Portuguese Macau fantasy, all dark wood and red lantern atmosphere, and skews more restaurant than dive. Come for a cocktail and a reason to explain to your date that Macau predates Hong Kong by several centuries as a European foothold in East Asia.