In Hindsight, Not So Bad

New Yorker’s are crazy. We all know it. Which is why I should not be the least bit surprised by their ability to break the heart of their lovers in the public debauchery of a bar.

 

I mean, besides the irrational and emotional drunk state, these people are dealing with the hazards of an abundance of high-heels that double as daggers, silverware, and those scary-sharp corkscrewy metal things they take the pits out of olives with.

 

Well I learned my lesson quite quickly on my last visit, when I was on assignment to write a freelance review of one of the top clubs in NYC. 

 

Provocateur is a ridiculously exclusive nightclub tucked in the back of the Gansevoort Hotel, and if you find yourself inside this Manhattan hotspot it’s because you’re a big shot, knows someone who is, or you’re so hot it’s impossible for you to build a snowman…or you’re a lucky scrub with a press pass like me.

 

Luckily, I was safely tucked behind the velvet ropes by the time a young executive named Sara decided to come clean.

 

A giant pair of angel wings draped against one wall inside this purple-hued club, and angelic is probably what boyfriend-to-be-gone thought of his lady when she poneyed up several thousand for table service for him and ten of his friends.

 

I watched from my cozy barstool as the main floor filled up, and the boys all had front row seats to the stunning house dancers who regularly gyrate the night away; certainly the trappings of a perfect night. 

 

After the first few bottles were gone, Sara snuck off to the bar, returning with her boy’s favorite cocktail. She rested the glass in his hands, waited for a lull in the music, and while I eavesdropped, said:

 

“Three ladies just stopped me and asked if you were single. The last one even gave me their number to give to you and opened an all-expense bar tab in your name for the night. I threw the number away. Also, I cheated on you recently.”

 

Mimosa flew out of my mouth as she disappeared across the newly roiling dance floor. I called the bartender over, and anonymously sent on over a glass of their strongest whiskey. I figured the least I could do was buy the poor guy a drink.

 

 

Daniel Hogan is a writer at Party Earth - a global media and entertainment company that publishes reviews and listings of the best social experiences around the world including: bars in Paris, pubs in London, beaches in Ibiza, plazas in Rome, parks in New York, festivals and concerts everywhere, and more.