In the mid-2010s, young Brooklynites well acquainted with the borough’s nightlife shared a psychogeography that was rooted around the Myrtle-Broadway subway stop. Upon exiting, you were greeted by the sight that began and ended your night—a trio of fast-food restaurants burned into the minds of all the dissolute people of my generation: a Popeyes, a Checkers, and a Dunkin Donuts. From there, you fanned out into a network of clubs, bars, and underground parties that surrounded the elevated subway tracks.
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