Let's face it: The contenders for this category have nothing on the Saloon. The rude security people at the Gay 90's have more sass than the Adam's-appled divas belting out Diana Ross songs onstage. The yuppie patrons at Jetset look like they just walked out of a Bret Easton Ellis novel. The street scum who slime their way into the Brass Rail probably style their hair with motor oil. And so we find ourselves constantly falling back on our favorite Hennepin Avenue bar, where, for the past decade, gay men have met and fallen in love--if only for one night. The best nights to go are Thursday through Saturday, when you can hear New York NRG, house, and every remix of a George Michael track imaginable. If you're into S&M, you can slink around "The Tank" in the back end of the club, where bodies are strapped up every which way in leather. But even if you left your leash at home, there's still a myriad of muscle shirts on the make.