A tarnished mockery of the khaki-clad suburban establishment, Bushwick Country Club lives up to its name with dingy chandeliers that barely illuminate worn leather sofas, while out back lies a trashy, nine-hole miniature-golf course, complete with a windmill barrier constructed from PBR cans. A reprieve for those sick of Stella and Brooklyn Lager, the bar serves up hard-to-find draft beers like Gaffel K and Dentergems Wit (wheat). A signature drink, the Buff Jimmy, boasts white-cranberry aquavit mixed with Jim Beam Black and ginger ale. Keen eyes searching behind the bar will also find sake and coffee-infused Patrón. Much like at the club back home, membership has its privileges—namely, daily drink specials from 5 to 8 p.m., ranging from select $3 beers to two-for-one deals. But a simple request won’t get every sucker a gold membership card. Keeping with the history of club exclusivity, a current member has to refer potential newcomers. In other words, if you want to belong, don’t piss off the jerks sipping manhattans.