Friday night I met up with some friends for dinner at the Italian festival going on in the lower east side.  After spending an ungodly amount of money on traditional Italian fare such as shish kebab and baklava, we decided we needed something to drink.  Not really knowing the area, we set off in a random direction in search of the first decent-looking bar, lounge, or nightclub that we came upon.

NYC’s smoking ban has made all the formerly-obscure nightlife hotspots much, much easier to find.  Just look down any given alley or side street for a crowd of people huddled around a nondescript door to nowhere, and voila – you’ve got nightlife.  We happened to be strolling down Broome Street — where the aforementioned Horrifying Cat Ad was found — and found ourselves faced with a dilemma.  To our left down Bowery was one group of a dozen or so people huddled around a door.  Straight ahead on Broome was another.  After spending five minutes (really) deciding which looked more like a nightclub-sans-smokers crowd and less like a smokers-sans-nightclub crowd, we chose Broome St based on distance.  Road less traveled, and all that.

“No cover,” said the bouncer at the door.  “No cover no cover no cover no cover no cover,” he added helpfully.  I asked what kind of music they were playing.  “A little bit of everything, you name it.”  Great — every single nightclub in the US says they play “a little bit of everything”.  All of them.  But we didn’t want to walk anymore, and we all were in urgent need of a restroom, so we decided to head in.  I asked if there was a cover charge.  Nobody else thought it was funny.

According to their circa-2005 website, Happy Ending was once an “erotic massage parlor”.  That would explain why most of the basement was tiled like a shower stall, and frankly, why at least one of the showerheads was at, er, hip level.

The ground floor reminded me of the glory days of Mars.  Deep red colors everywhere, velvet set-back seating, and dark, dark lighting.  A bar ran the length of the room and around the corner of the U-shaped room, while deep semi-circle high-back benches lined the remaining side.  It wasn’t big by any means — if a hundred people managed to fit in there, I would’ve been surprised.

As it turns out, the music was, in fact, “a little bit of everything”.  Aside from the standard assortment of top 40 / hip hop tracks, we heard Don’t Stop Believin’ and Shout (yeah, the Isley Brothers).  These were smattered with a healthy dose of 80s and 90s anthems ranging from Darude to Kraftwerk to Pet Shop Boys.

The basement floor was apparently where most of the, uh, “showering” took place during the building’s checkered past.  Institutional tiling was left in place during the brothel-t0-nightclub conversion, which must’ve been a real bear for the sound company to deal with.  Although you can’t see it in this photo, several large shower stalls (easily big enough to hold five or six people laying down) were glassed off and left in place for anyone who wanted their 15 minutes of fame.  All of the plumbing fixtures appeared removed, so epic pranks were out of the question.

The basement floor was as small and intimate as the ground floor, giving the entire venue what had to be a capacity of around 200 people tops.  Drink prices were New-York-reasonable at $7 a pop.  Both factoids lead to an obvious question:  Why can’t Harrisburg have nice things?  If a venue like this can survive under NYC taxes and NYC insurance and NYC rent, why can’t someone make it happen in Harrisburg?

Really, why?

I’m sitting here eastbound on the Amtrak Pennsylvanian (facing west, because apparently that’s how they do things in New York), sifting through several hundred pics & vids from the past five days in NYC.  The near-silence of the train means I can actually concentrate on tagging & cataloging said media.  My laptop is plugged in and charging, thanks to the seat-side electrical outlets (four to every row).  My VZW cell phone has continuous coverage, giving me unlimited broadband for the entire trip.  Although I really don’t mind driving to and in NYC, Amtrak usually winds up being cheaper, and always involves less hassle.

Then there’s the subway.  It’s fast, it’s dirt-cheap, and it truly is environmentally sound (as compared to a bus or taxi).  Even my ride from Bay Ridge in Brooklyn to Times Square to 116th, which in reality took just over an hour, seemed to fly by.  Plus, there’s this tremendous Awesome Factor.  You’re flying around a century-old system at 40 miles per hour, often in cars built during the 70s and 80s.  And since the subway has represented both the very worst and very best of the city, there’s little more iconic of NYC than the MTA.

Anyway – back to the media.

Chinatown led to some of the best pictures of the night.  Specifically, an ad campaign for … I don’t know.  But it involved this disturbing Photoshop of a cat.  And when I saw it, my first thought was “WHOSE RESPONSIBLE THIS?“  My second thought was “I’m blogging this”, but since I can’t think of any relevant way to make light of the pic, I’m just posting it.  Enjoy.

Somewhere in the distance, a cow moos.

What used to be a monthly trip for me has, over the years, dropped to an every-other month trip, then almost entirely out of sight.  Obligations of my previous position at work (which I am not complaining about, I voluntarily chose to work all those crazy shifts) made travel plans almost impossible.  But now, with my M-F 8-4 job firmly entrenched, I decided to dip into my massive pile of annual leave and disappear for a while.

As I was walking downtown en route to the train station, I passed what appears to be a group of protest–

Oh, hey.  We just passed a car on fire.  We must be closer to Philly than I thought.

Anyway, I passed a group of people who were protesting health care reform.  I didn’t really have time to stop and get pictures, but the placards were priceless.  One in particular stood out — “STOP OBAMA’S EUGENICS WAR – OBAMACARE”.  I desperately wanted to stop and ask about this forthcoming eugenics war, but I was surprisingly on-time for my train.  When I saw the “OBAMA = WHITES OUTLAWED” placard, I realized they were only trolling.  Nobody, even ’round these here parts, is that dumb.  Good show.

The trick to regular NYC getaways was learned by me a long time ago:  sleep cheap.  For two nights in Harlem (decent hood; I checked), two nights in the upper west, round-trip rail on Amtrak, and unlimited subway use, my grand total comes to $272 plus tax.

Considering that decent accommodations in New York generally start around $250 a night and can easily clear $500, I think I done pretty good.  I’ll post more details tomorrow, but suffice to say, if you don’t mind being a little unorthodox and meeting new people, you can save a metric ton of money.  And given that I’m only sleeping here, well, I’d rather spend my money on other stuff.

I did my homework on this trip.  Being my first trip in almost a year, I wanted to make sure I see everything worthwhile.  I received (too) many recommendations on hole-in-the-wall ethnic diners.  Got a ton of suggestions for nightlife venues to check out, too — apparently Brooklyn is the place to be right now.  And unlike previous trips, I have mobile broadband this time, meaning I can safely update without worry of someone intercepting my admin password or cookie.

I’m going to put my notebook to sleep right now.  In the time I’ve spent editing this we’ve arrived in Philly and are about to turn around for Penn Station.  Besides, Emo Kid has awoken and resumed annoying the cabin.  I’m going to go tell him Radiohead sucks.