It wasn’t a bad night. In fact, for the most part, it was one of the best nights of my year. But at one point, inundated by the redundant beats of Lady Gaga and pressed against a vibrating wall of sweat and hipness, it was time to find a new home.
Starting out at my favorite dive Desmond’s Tavern (433 Park Ave S, NYC) with a few pints, a couple of shots and the usual bitching about work, my friends and I eventually embarked on an impromptu bar crawl.
Next stop was Mé Bar in K-Town atop of the La Quinta Hotel. We ordered takeout from the new Korean Chicken joint nearby (I had the spicy pork tacos, of course). Then it was time to meet some other friends downtown at The Delancey.
That’s where the night went south for me. Don’t get me wrong, you can see great bands at The Delancey and they have a popular rooftop bar (that was off limits this night). Like many NYC bars however, the weekend means bridge and tunnel hipster dance parties. This may be fine and good for you, but it’s just not my scene.
I convinced my little group that it would be in our best interest to move on. Battling thru the cologne, perfume, high heels and attitude to the exit of The Delancey, we made our way over to one of my favorite dives; St. Jerome’s.
Photo by Gavin Thomas/NYMag.com
We happened to be here on Hair Metal night. The usual go-go dancers were replaced by Whitesnake lookalikes with lots of KISS and Van Halen (David Lee Roth of course) spewing from the speakers. I ended a New Year’s celebration here once.
This is the perfect place to end a night of debauchery. Dark, sticky, a little stank in the air aided by an overused smoke machine. Cold, cheap beer. Friendly drunks slur pleasantries as you high-five the next metal classic.
Had I ended my night just a little bit earlier, I’d have gone home all aching and depressed. Now, I was just aching. My old joints crying from the long night, but my soul renewed. This was a rarity for me. Usually I stay out too late trying to find the high note. Tonight the high note is what kept me out so late.
I slept the entire next day, comforted by the knowledge that there are still places in this ever-changing city that I can rely on. Places that will never let me down. And while St. Jerome’s may appear to be another LES bar catering to posers, all it takes is a minute at the bar or a joke with the bouncer or a thumbs up to the DJ to realize, it’s not.
Sure, the posers come and go here as they do anywhere, but I would end any night in this neighborhood at this place, if given the choice.
See Also:
Desmond’s Tavern
Me Bar
The Delancey
St. Jerome’s
NYMag.com
Gavin Thomas