151 Rivington St. (btw Suffold & Clinton St.)
New York, NY 10002
(212) 228-4139
Bathroom situation - two unisex single-person jawns behind a classy bead curtain.
Takes credit cards? - If you walk in here and actually have a credit card in your left, right, back or front pocket, the locals will sniff it out and you will likely be mugged and/or set up before you leave this lovely basement. So, no...
Crowded on weekends? - yeah, but no, but...
Seating - a few ramshackle tables in front and a handful of seats in the bar. They have an erstwhile-VIP room in the back, but it's right next to the bathroom situation, so it's prolly stanky.
Neighborhood - slightly off-the-grid LES...make sure someone knows where you are.
Type of crowd - An ok mix of garbage and sentients. Visceralist's good story about this place: was chilling, talking to some chick one on one at a table and some whiteboy in a black hoody and un-trendy jeans walks up to us like "Hey, you want to buy some cocaine?"...Clearly he was a Narco, but damn, do you think cats that come here are that ign'ant...or coke-deficient? NYPD FAIL.
Pretentious/assholes - the cream of the crowd here are all "in a band." If you're the type who doesn't care to ask any follow-up questions, you'll fit right on in.
Cost of Stella - not sure if they even have Heineken here. If you're the kind of cunt who needs a Stella, just order a PBR and fake it until you can convince whomever you're with to go somewhere else.
What time people start showing up - this place is so dark at all times that all sense of time falls into a quantum wormhole...that falls into a bottle of tequila...that's sold for $4/shot. Cheap shit.
Bartender efficiency - usually two at the bar, one male, one female. Both probably lucid?
Official Website - n/a. Gully...gangsta...pimpin...lazy...
Food? How late - um, you can get some food for thought if you bring an "unconvential" looking girl here.
TVs? What's on - tv = the devil.
Guy:girl ratio - leans towards being dude-heavy, but chicks can be easily convinced to come here if they're ign'ant and you can sell it as a "hip" LES "hangout."
Toys - um, the bead-curtains near the bathroom are pretty cheeky, but otherwise, nah...you're on your own.
Age of clientele - regardless the age, no one here knows any better.
Space for dancing - no, this is more of a pre-dancing place. Like you can test out some drop-it-like-it's-hot moves here to some White Stripes before you bust them out at Pianos, where it really counts.
Décor - wisely, they made this place too dark to really know what the hell you're looking at, stepping on, talking to. Hopefully, by the time you get here you're drunk enough to be past all that type of bourgeois paraphernalia.
Grimeyness - the front door has SPRAY PAINTED "tags" on it...I mean, c'mon...is that what we're doing now? Is that the movement?
ID check procedure - Breathing? Get in.
Hood specificity - the ELES. Where everyone who's over the main LES, but isn't invited to the really cool parties goes...
Music medium, style & volume - the only reason Visceralist really wrote this review...to warn ppl that this place is LOUD AS fuck. You will only be able to hear the person sitting right across from you if he/she has both an 808 and an auto-tune console underneath the left and right side of the tongue in his/her mouth.
Specials or most popular drink - they prolly have some kind of BS, but it usually feels like they think that you're lucky to even get in here, so...take that, take that. Bad Boy, baby. Can't stop...
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Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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