The Skyway Lounge might very well be downtown Minneapolis's last remaining heckhole, and as such, one of its greatest treasures. For one thing, there's something about the place's exterior--the doorman maybe, or the vaguely seedy location next to a bus stop and an abandoned movie theater--that's just intimidating enough to fend off those members of the hooting classes (fratboys, conventioneers, and the like) who clog nearly every other strip joint in the vicinity. Or maybe the lack of a cover puts them off. Or the fact that the peelers are topless, not nude. What matters is that these men stay away. Inside, the place is strip-joint perfect: long, dark, spacious, and just divey enough to make you feel like Huggy Bear could be nursing a drink in the shadows. Seating options abound in a way that accommodates everyone from dedicated oglers and casual tipplers to the itinerant hipsters and downtown characters who call the place home. Servers are friendly and attentive. Drink prices run well below the downtown average (a vodka/Red Bull, for instance, runs $4.50). And the food, also reasonably priced, is surprisingly good. Dancers, who come in all shapes and sizes, tend to be both reasonably attractive and...well...real, with tattoos and piercings vastly outnumbering implants. Plus, the Skyway is one of the few places in this world where, in 2002, you can hear Pearl Jam and have it actually seem perfectly reasonable to be hearing Pearl Jam.