< topography - NYU

  

Megadecibel
University, 10/11
NYU
Manhattan
{ Cassandra 2/23/01: I never got past the front room of this all black Japanese beer and sake bar. There is a narrow bar with a glass case where they have little plastic replicas of the small Japanese appetizers they serve for $3 a pop. By serve I mean to peel away the plastic wrap and nuke when appropriate, all right in front of you. Aside from the bar they have these high chairs along long narrow tables. My group took up half of one of these tables. Midway into my third drink (on an empty stomach) another group sat down next to us. I felt a tap on my shoulder..."Is this your wallet?" A very obviously wasted guy asked me. He had apparently thought that picking up my wallet, which was sitting right at my elbow and handing it to me was a huge favor, with which I should reward him with a conversation. "You're not even going to thank me? Fucking bitch." I am slightly shocked but remain calm, choosing to ridicule him instead. He begins to roll a joint in a $20 bill and keeps elbowing me in the ribs. "I'm going to tear this bitch up," he announces loudly to the table. "Why? Because you think rolling a joint in a $20 bill makes you all hard?" Before he can reply, his friend falls into him and knocks him off his chair. One of the gentlemen from my group decides to have a little talk with him and his excuse for his behavior: "But she's so hot." That's one I haven't heard since the third grade.}

Clementine
5 Aveish, S of 8
NYU
Manhattan
{ Cassandra 12/10/00: Woe to this bar on Saturday night. It's difficult to know where to begin: the snooty door man who didn't actually seem to have a job other than sneering at my newly lit cigarette? The plethora of black turtle necked men who with dull, hungry eyes? The $6 Red Stripe? The intergender relations which consisted primarily of mouths grimaced in smile and conversations so unremarkable that I don't remember a single one? I know: the strange man in a black V-neck whose first words to me were, as he boldly stroked my fake fur coat, were: "This is niiiice, I have a teddy bear that feels like this." All in all, the only real use for the place is to walk away with a renewed belief in celibacy, if such is your lot.} { Jakeed 12/15/00: wow I never sent anything in about Clementine cuz to be honest the one hot summer night I stopped in there to see I couldn't stand to stay long enough to even think about ordering a drink}

The Baggot Inn
3 @ Thomspon
NYU
Manhattan
{ Eclipse the Gum 1/18/01: Permission to act like an absolute idiot to all who enter. One afternoon, me and a guy named D**** ******* went to a poetry slam there. (Because, you know me and the poetry slam are, like, tight.) And, this woman (I kid you not) penned and spoke these words: "Poca. Pocahantas. Mother of America. Wife of John Smith. Poca. Pocahantas. Pocahantas. Poca...haunts us." So, we both fell off our chairs, sprayed beer all over the place and started punching each other and howling. We were asked/told/made to leave. Terrible people composing in English is the best this joint has to offer...and it haunts us.}

CHoGA
Bleeker, across from Elbow Room
NYU
Manhattan
[CHoGA is pure pleasure, a kind of shimmering, mirrored inversion of Elbow Room, which can be seen directly across the chaos of Bleeker, through CHoGA's bar window: ER is long, low, loud, smelly, and stupid; CHoGA is elevated, cozy and quiet, soothingly furnished, and brilliantly staffed. Effortlessly you could lose yourself to a relaxing evening at the bar, or since CHoGA is, first, a Japanese and Korean restaurant, you could sit down for a delicious meal (and I hear that CHoGA serves food until 7 on the weekends!). In either case the service will be superlative, the sake excellent, the night perfect.] [Not really a viable drink-alone situation, as your barstool elevation above the diners calls attention to your solitude and your G.U. shopping bag full of cleaning products and strains the comprehension of the deferential service.]

Elbow Room
Bleeker @ LaGuardia
NYU
Manhattan
Yeah: elbow room. Well, go, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing.

Life
Bleeker, W of Elbow Room
NYU
Manhattan
Pouah! mais c'est la vie, non?

Back Fence
Bleeker @ Thompson
NYU
Manhattan
Too well lit to be of much use, the Back Fence is affordable enough, but when you get right down to it, those are some grim coordinates! Can you imagine what becomes of this modest bar on a Friday night, foolish NYU students running around mucking everything up? And what is that shit on the floor?

Down the Hatch
4, 6/7 Ave
NYU
Manhattan
Check out that location! A mirrorbar of Bottoms Up. { Eclipse the Gum 2/22/01: Yesterday, Wednesday, I dropped in there on my way to Payless to get some un-malodorous socks to replace the podiatric taint of not going home the night before. I had a gallon of Maker's Mark for $5.. I didn't care that every media in the place was kicking out Stevie Ray Vaughn. I didn't care that the Hoboken Yuppie Asshole League was about to call the meeting to order. I had a gallon of Maker's Mark. I didn't care that there was not one pretty female in the joint. I didn't care that there were white collegians earnestly "What up, dawg"ing each other. 5 dollars. This place is a petri dish for the worst (and best) kind of apathy. Or I'm becoming cheap.}

Daddy-O
Bedford, E of 7 Ave
NYU
Manhattan
{ Eclipse the Gum 1/12/01: I wouldn't even credit this bar with a review, but I walked past it today and I felt like I had just been knee-capped. In the ever-expanding list of "Bars that should not exist," this one ranks #36. I went there for a coworker's going-away party. After half an hour, I was ready to throw myself a going-away-from-this-bar party.}

Bottoms Up
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NYU
Manhattan
Jock-o-rama!

Wreck Room
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NYU
Manhattan
I do remember! being thoroughly nonplussed.

... Greenwich or on to Meat Packing

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