The quest for authenticity is often a well without bottom, but if there were a bottom, The Trap (3805 SE 52nd Ave., 777-6009) wouldn’t be far from it. This is a serious dart bar, its four spot-lit boards granted pride of place, surrounded by scores of trophies, but when I dropped by no one was playing. Rather, a dozen jovial drinkers, most over 50, were clustered around the bar, downing $2.25 pints of Pabst and Coors Light and occasionally tending to the pool table and shiny lottery consoles. The ribbing I received for showing up in a dress shirt was friendly—the bar hasn’t yet been discovered by the ironic dickhead set, perhaps because the entrance is, fittingly, a trap. The door under the neon “open” sign is locked, and if you try the “Family Dining” entry you will have to duck through the kitchen to find the bar. Save yourself the embarrassment and use the hidden door in the parking lot. There is karaoke Friday and Saturday, which I assume is incredible.