Love stinks but watching folks fall off a mechanical bull doesn’t
Let’s face it, depending on where you’re at in your life, you’ve probably agreed that The J. Geils Band had it right. Of course the level in which love stinks will grow deeper when you’re sitting at home wallowing in your state of singleness. Especially when faced with the unyielding sappiness of a fake holiday created to boost the sale of cards, chocolate and roses. Spending time with friends in a sap-free setting will help. Thus the need for an Anti-Valentine Celebration. Not meant to be a bitter bitchfest, this was planned to celebrate friendship and the awkward images of folks falling off a giant mechanical bull.
My dear friend and co-founder of the Facebook group “Single and …” Liz Hartman and I planned this night out several weeks ago. Originally it was thought that our group would brave the dive scene of Siberia (356 W 40th St), but we figured on several things. First, if anyone hadn’t been thru its somewhat stealth entrance, they’d very likely not find it. And for those who had been, they’d very likely not want to go back. We didn’t want to rely on others sharing our affinity for this shack that is proudly known as the shittiest bar in NYC. And lastly, from time to time, Siberia will simply not be open.
Several other options were tossed around, but when I heard that another group of friends were going to ride the bull at Johnny Utah’s (25 W. 51st St.) on the same night as our proposed Anti-Valentine Celebration, I could not resist joining in. Well truth be told, I never really planned to join in, just take photos of those brave few who tested their rodeo skills and consume my share of brisket, whiskey and tequila. And maybe it’s the sappy animal lover in me, or my continued tendency to let my overactive imagination give inanimate objects human characteristics, but the bull looked harried and a little upset to me. But like the clichéd sad clown, he would bring much happiness to the people.
Johnny Utah’s was designed to be an urban cowboy haven. A cavernous space with all the fixins of a giant mine shaft, bank vault, animal hides and a large, padded bull ring. The food is Tex-Mex fare with a menu that is short but packed with enough to satisfy anyone in a party. Our table was filled with a wide assortment of appetizers including Roasted Vegetable and Goat Cheese Quasadillas, Poblano-Style Braised Short Rib Flautas, Hickory Smoked Chicken Wings with Blue Cheese Dip and more. I was feeling a little more hungry than appetizers could satisfy and had the Texas Brisket with Red Eye Gravy, Beans and Rice.
As for the real entertainment of the night, several of my friends were quite impressive in their ability to ride this bucking machine. Liz, for one, refused to fall off. I think the bull’s controller was starting to get a little annoyed as he jerked and spun the beast harder and faster to the cheers of the crowd. Upon witnessing this, the next guy (not of our group) thought it would be a cinch. With his tie around his head looking like a drunk frat boy, he fell off within seconds. We all laughed. Serves him right.
This turned out to be a bigger party than I could have imagined. In addition to the our group, my friend Jennifer also had a table of a dozen or so revelers raring to go. She was the one who talked me into coming here. At one point she grabbed me, telling me I had to get take pictures of some guy who was confidently hopping on the back of the bull in his cowboy hat. He held on well, but I hove no idea who he was. A little later on, it was Jennifer’s turn. She rode well, fell off well and got right back on like a joyous trooper.
Aside from one unfortunate situation involving a hugely immature drama queen, this was a near-perfect night. I won’t go into to much detail about the incident, but it was quite embarrassing. Long story short, this guy who was indirectly invited to the party decided to proclaim his possessiveness over one of the girls in the group. While acting like a drunken jealous ass would be point enough to cut all ties with this punk, he pulled this right after the manager had bought us all a round of shots. After my attempts to shut him up failed–and before losing my own temper–when a bouncer asked if he was with us, I said no.
This would also turn out to be a longer night than expected. As the crowd began to thin out, laugh about what had just happened and say our goodbyes, a few of us decided to do a little bar hopping downtown. More on that shortly. For now, I recommend you grab a pair of chaps, a cowboy hat (both optional) and let loose the urban cowboy (or cowgirl) within and get over to Johnny Utah’s. Just be forewarned that if you plan to have dinner, make a reservation early. This place tends to fill up … and fast.
See Also:
Johnny Utah’s NYC
Single and …
Photo Gallery
And Then There Were Three
MurphGuide
