Honey in Northeast is aptly named; it’s a hive. Inside, after descending the stairs, you’ll arrive in a dark, low-ceilinged basement, a vibration chamber as classically urban as an alley. There’s hardly any space. Ordering a drink is like swimming through a sea of people to land, then clinging to a reef as waves of bros and impossibly beautiful women continually crash ashore. But the center of the Honey dance floor is the truest Twin Cities dance zone-out—a loud, hip-hop leaning, pop-friendly, unabashedly sweaty pile of all kinds of sweetness.
Readers’ Choice: First Avenue