In New York, as it is in most major cities, the problem is never about finding a bar, it's finding one that everyone can agree on. Maybe someone hates the decor, maybe another hates the kind of people who drink. Sometimes it's the prices, sometimes it's the way the bartender adds a bit too much tonic in the gin & tonic, but there's always something. To the uninitiated, the act of collectively choosing a bar, what at first would seem a simple task, becomes an insurmountable task. Friendships have been lost, relationships ruined, wars started, all because people couldn't decide which building they wanted to drink their alcohol in. Some people say it is mankind's only flaw, but then those people were always kind of full of themselves.

For the members of Justice League International however, arguing was their raison d'etre. They had come out of the womb (or in the case of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian birthing caves) arguing, their bread and butter was made of snide remarks and sarcastic insults. It was even said that this new, modern Justice League spent more time goofing off and making jokes than performing the noble tasks of heroism that brought the original members of the League together, but that was only a rumor (as long as Max Lord's legal team was around). To the JLI it wasn't the look of the bar that mattered, just the ability to sit down and get on each other's nerves was more than enough.

That evening, the tavern in question was The Black Room, an unassuming little venue that had originally been the popular gay bar known as Manhunters, before the fallout of a failed invasion by a race of genocidal machines forced the owners to rebrand. Aside from the genuine hardwood counter and leather seats, The Black Room was noteworthy for being featured in Dancing with the Devil, a made-for-TV movie based on the life and times of the Blue Devil that had somehow managed to make the lead character more of a turquoise than blue. The owners even had a 'As Seen on Dancing With the Devil' plaque displayed prominently above the counter as you walked through the door. Whether Dancing With the Devil made people want to visit the bar more often or just drink more to forget had yet to be determined.

With the Martian Manhunter off on one of his Martian holidays and Fire & Ice at some fashion show, the team that walked through the doors of The Black Room where the Blue Beetle (alias Ted Kord), Booster Gold (alias Michael Carter), Mister Miracle (alias Scott Free) and, for some inexplicable reason, Guy Gardner (the other Green Lantern). Not that the average bystander would recognize 3/4ths of the group as world-famous superheroes of course, hidden as they were in their civilian identities. And anyway, would anyone who worked with Guy Gardner on a daily basis really want to hang out with him after work?

"Look guys, this is going to be great, I swear." Ted said excitedly. "You know, I heard that while they were filming Dancing With the Devil, Scott Bakula would reenact scenes from Cocktail between every take. They spent 1100 dollars on broken bottles of vodka alone."

"Is that the one where they made Blue Devil teal or something?" Booster muttered. "Man, that movie was so bad it made roadkill look like the Sistine Chapel. Why would you want to visit something related to that crap?"

"First of all, he was turquoise. Second of all, Dancing With the Devil was the greatest work of cheesey cinema since Dinosaur Grandma, and I won't have a nonbeliever like you blaspheming against it."

"Spare me…"

"Figures that Beetle would be a fan of a nobody like Blue Doofus." Guy grunted. "Probably even hold hands when they go to the Star Trek conventions together."

"Ixnay on the Eetle-bay Gardner, or I'll tell Batman to give you another spanking. This is supposed to be a low key affair, remember?"

"Since when is anything we do low key?" Booster quipped.

"Barda and I haven't watched much TV lately since Cagney & Lacey ended." Free added.

"You're all idiots. Now come on, let's try and get our drinks before the next millennium, alright?"

Luckily, the rest of the world had yet to catch on to Ted Kord's taste in cinema, so the four men were able to saunter up to the bar without that much difficulty. The bartender, whose name happened to be Rico, looked like a guy who spent way too much time trying to get noticed by people he considered important. Unfortunately for him, those important people even more time trying to notice him.

"Hello gentleman, welcome to The Black Room. Would you like to try our new diet lager this evening?" Rico said.

"Uh, no thanks, just get a Tom Collins." Ted replied. "Heavy on the Collins."

"I'll take a French 75, my good man!" Booster said.

The man known as Blue Beetle turned and looked at his friend with a quizzical look. "What the hell is a French 75?"

"It's a cocktail, man. I think it's got gin, lemon juice and champagne in it or something."

"Does it come with a purse too?" Guy asked a sneer.

"For your information, the French 75 is a high-class cocktail, alright? It was in Casablanca."

"You've never even seen Casablanca dude." Ted shot back. "I know, because I've tried to get you to watch it and you always claim your angina is acting up."

"His WHAT?"

"Shut up Guy. Yeah, I've never seen Casablanca. Most people haven't seen Casablanca. But what they do know is it's a high-class movie, so when I walk up to an attractive lady and drop that little tidbit, she'll know what kind of guy I am."

"The kind of guy who uses other, more popular things as a way to make yourself seem popular because you're afraid that no one would love you if they got to know the real you?"

"Ha ha. You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."

"Moi? Jealous? Perish the thought." Ted said with a wave of his hand. "And since when do you think at all?"

"Oh I think a lot. Most about how much of a total clown you are. And you're totally jealous dude, just admit it. I don't blame you, I mean just look at me, but it's just not healthy from a psychological perspective."

"My foot is about get a new perspective from the inside of your-"

"You know, there are probably other people waiting to be served, so..." Rico mumbled.

"Well, I'll just take an orange juice, please." Scott said, glancing at the two heroes as they glared at each other. Apparently the JLI wasn't all that much different than being back home with Barda and Oberon

"Oh no you don't!" Guy said, or rather shouted at the New God. "Guy Gardner doesn't drink with anyone who drinks juice at a bar, alright?!"

"You could just leave…" Scott replied, half under his breath.

"And let you wimps off easy? Where would the fun be in that?" Guy countered, then leered over at Rico. "He'll have a Wallbanger. Gimme me a pitcher of Dusseldorf and a pitcher of Heisler, none of that diet crap. I'm trying to have fun here, not to join the yuppie patrol."

"Of course sir. I'll get right on that." Rico replied, as he began to grab glasses and bottles. Times like this made him wish he had never left law school.

"Well, delusions of grandeur aside," Ted said as he leaned against the counter, "I've got a hunch this is shaping up to be a pretty fun night."