Late-night slice-seekers rejoice. If you're needing a blisteringly-hot slab of mozzarella-laden reliability, look no further than this boxcar-sized mainstay. Not only do the signs scotch-taped to the wall ("NO PARMESAN, DON'T ASK") make you mind your Ps and Qs, but cashiers will laugh out loud at your debit card (better have a few dollar bills crumpled in your pocket, drunky) and you'll get plenty of big-city attitude from the staff. It's all part of the fun. Gourmet it ain't -- this joint serves your Coke in a can, and if you ask for chevre or pan-fried pea-snaps, best of luck to you. This is East-coast thin-crust at its yummiest. And since there's no A/C, you're bound to people-watch on the sidewalk. When you're out boozing it up in downtown Hollywood and need a full belly at 3 a.m., you probably can't hold a knife or fork correctly anyway, so Mauro's is perfect: hold, fold, scarf. But don't come in wasted and act like an ass, or, as the sign says, no pizza for you.