Especially when the destination involves crabs and mini-golf, and the journey is you going to Red Hook.
Pack a bag for Brooklyn Crab, a blown-up, tri-level seaside crab shack of alfresco claw-cracking, buckets of beer and defeating the clown’s mouth on 18, opening tomorrow.
First thing you need to know: there are fake sharks on the walls here. And large trophy fish. It’s all faded-out wood. Some of the lamps are made from beer buckets. It’s a place Captain Ron would own in some quaint shore village you visited as a kid (just 10 times bigger). But you can still expect large pails of blue crabs, steamed lobster, corn and American lagers splayed out with no regard on sturdy picnic tables out on the deck. So sit back, grab a tiny fork and just revel in clarified butter.
Now let’s address your gravest concern: Red Hook. Just... think of it as an adventure—the opportunity to explore a brave new world of 18-hole miniature-golf courses, sun-brellas and unabashed bib-wearing (and convenient Ikea adjacency). And if that’s not doing it for you, there’s a shuttle van that’ll drive you here from Carroll Gardens every 20 minutes.
You’re going to have to let your normal crab chauffeur know his services are no longer required.