Ain't nothing cheap in Manhattan.
One night I was out with some friends on the Lower East Side, and somebody mentioned a place down the street that was serving free drinks between the hours of 10PM and midnight. A few of us figured free drinks sounded good, so we formed an expeditionary party to check it out. As we were leaving, the rest of our group (mostly native or long-time New Yorkers) called out, "Don't worry, we'll be here when you get back!"
The place with the free drinks turned out to be a complete shithole in what looked like an abandoned hardware store. They were playing the crappiest dance pop I'd ever heard, like some kind of a 3rd-rate Shakira ripoff or something. The clientele was a mix of clownish hipsters and guido douchebags. The plywood-constructed bar was swarming with cock-knockers with their arms outstretched, frantically grabbing for drinks. The bartenders were passing the drinks to the cock-knockers in the front of the crowd, and then those cock-knockers were handing them off to all their buddies and reaching for more drinks. There was no way I was going to deal with that bullshit for some crappy free drink, but one of my friends (a big guy who
really loves to drink) waded into the throng to fight his way to the bar.
I stood aghast at what a horrible scene it was. We have lots of shitbag bars here in Chicago but I'd never seen anything like this place. The only comparison I can make is being inside an Hieronymous Bosch painting. Ridiculous and horrible atrocities everywhere you look. Orange-painted douchenozzles with striped shirts open to the navel and gold chains across their chests... obese girls stuffed into spandex and daisy dukes... emo kids wearing black eye makeup... a guy wearing--I shit you not-- a tie-dye shirt and a fuzzy Dr. Seuss
Cat In The Hat hat (this was 2008 mind you, not 1991).
After about 15 minutes, we'd had enough. Our guy hadn't come back from the bar yet, but we simply couldn't take any more of this horrible place. As we turned to leave, I looked back one more time and spotted him emerging from the crowded bar area with a drink in each hand. My other friends were out the door, so I ran up to him and told him we're splitting. He handed me one of the plastic cups and downed the other as we ran for the exit. I took one sip of the drink. It tasted like battery acid mixed with a packet of unsweetened Kool-aid.
When we arrived back at the bar where we'd started from, our friends cheered our return. "How were the free drinks? They must have been pretty good, if you got back here this quick!"
I learned a valuable lesson that night about getting anything for free in Manhattan.
decoder, on 02 July 2010 - 02:06 AM, said:
Are you fucking kidding me? All because of a fucking
phone number?!?
It must be nice to have the luxury of starting a children's crusade over every notion that pops into your head.
This post has been edited by Colonel Panic: 02 July 2010 - 03:57 PM