The only thing this place succeeded in doing was making me want to ”spill” my dinner all over their deserted floor (wah wah). It’s amazing how bad your decision making becomes when it’s raining. Shit, they tried to charge us cover. We started to walk away but were summoned back. We soon saw why. There is literally more going on in my living room on a Tuesday night than there was here–and I have like no life. I would have rather been forced to watch back-to-back episodes of Britney & Kevin Raw and Uncut (the worst television ever devised ever) than put up with this joint again. It all started with the big bouncers and the velvet rope. Just what did they think they were protecting this place from, loneliness? Well, their door policy was either very strict or they had to kick everyone’s ass and throw them out, cuz the bartender was busy doing a whole lot of nothing and the waitress looked like she wanted to run head-first into an oncoming semi. The space itself was very long and relatively thin. It seemed to be painted black and lit with some sort of blue-ish light. It felt like a Buffalo (the city, not the animal) attempt at a Miami coked-up nightclub. It was just all wrong. I was waiting for the Candid Camera asshole to pop out and tell me this was all some kind of twisted joke. But, alas, it was no mirage. Merely another bar with no future and no clue. [MF]

196 Orchard St.