The best thing about this cop bar: You can't go there. Not unless you know a cop, or you are a cop. (You're not, are you? We're just holding it for a friend, we swear.) The bar's tucked below the police union's old-school meeting hall, giving it a bunker feel that the cops deserve -- a little protection from the shit-storm they face on the road. A shiny black-and-white zone car anchors the rear of the bar. Officers lick their wounds at the square center bar, eyes on the nightly news. And since it's just down the stairs from the union leaders' offices, and since union VP Amy Duke runs the bar, there's usually an ear for the rank-and-file to bend -- another well-deserved perk for the folks who spend their days patrolling Cleveland.