2010 wrote:Synciere wrote:I was too young for the Tunnel and others but my OGs never let me live it down I wasnt outside for those days. I remember Etoile (personal fav for its diversity), Mars 2112, 40/40, 230 Fifth, OAK, Bed, Studio B, Spa and some others. Definitely not as crazy as Tunnel, but man! What a time to be alive. I’m talking the Buy You A Drank years, the last great era of NYC clubbing by most accounts. We didn’t know we’d never have it that good again… my best clubbing story though actually a full trip though if you want to understand… long read.
It’s one of my best friend’s 30th birthday in December that year and he decided he wanted Miami. We booked flights super early and I had to fly in a day later because it was my cousin’s bday that same week. We were going to square the hotel check (Fountainebleau) once we got there. A month before the trip I get into it with my boss over a commission and my boss says take it or leave it. I ain’t no punk bitch so I say leave it and quit! Now I got this trip to Miami coming up and I could’ve fronted and just put everything on the credit card, but I ain’t got no job man!!! I told my boys and they’re like my brothers, so of course they understood, but that owing **** for Shyt, that ain’t me man..
They fly in on Thursday, and promptly meet up with some women in the hotel lobby. Apparently they hit the jackpot! Bc one of these women is the girlfriend of David Guetta! I don’t know who that is, but apparently he’s a big deal! I missed that dinner. Friday comes and I land early. My boys want to just get straight to the excursions planned, but I’m broke, so I just want to sit on the beach with my books and whatnot. I’m a nerd, I know. I read on the beach. My boys get salty bc I’m not just letting them pay and I’m messing up the vibez, but I can’t spend money I don’t have. That shyt gives me anxiety.
Saturday comes and my best friend, Mike says, “Syn, I don’t give af what you say; we’re going to dinner tonight, I’m paying! We at LIV tonight, I’m paying, you getting stupid drunk with me at my party, and I don’t want to hear it!” Aight man, I finally relax. That night we’re waiting to be seated at the restaurant for dinner and who do we see, but David Guetta’s gyrl and friend, who showed up to bar behind us! Im introduced, and my friend and I, already drunk, invite them to dinner with our party. We were nine deep. All dinner our female friends are giving us looks, but we don’t understand. These chicks order the filet mignon and lobster risotto. Check comes and everyone is paying their portion, and they conveniently go the bathroom. After a while, Mike goes to the bathroom door and bangs on it like, come pay for your shyt, and suddenly it all becomes clear. They were THOTS! HOOKERS! WORKING WOMEN! I’m lubricated enough to say TF?! so I tell them about themselves as they’re running out the restaurant door, causing all sorts of a scene. I’m promptly escorted out of the restaurant myself, but I’ve been kicked out of fancier establishments than this I tell them. I had ordered this nice wagyu burger which I didn’t eat, so I run my food up the room before we meet up at LIV. I finessed that burger something sweet; ordered this ribeye sauce they had and added caramelized onions; the perfect after club meal. We go to LIV; Weezy was there that night, super lit, and we’re PLASTERED. I mean, so drunk you lose feeling at times. I meet these two very nice Chinese women and we hit it off. I black out.
I wake up in a hotel room a mile away off the strip, with a condom and one sock on at 7:15 am. Jia and the other woman whose name I can’t remember are in the bed with me, albeit on very different angles. I get dressed, check I have their number, cause they made me feel special, and bounce. I’m walking back to Fountainebleau, passing breakfast spots here and there, but I’m on a mission back to my burger, focused. I get back to the room, and my friends are knocked out of course. I go straight to the fridge, but nooooo! These summamabitches ate my burger! I’m flipping tables! E’erbody getting up out this bitch! Why’d you do that?! They’re like, where TF were you?!?! We leave the club and you’re nowhere to be found. Bouncer is like, he’s with a bitch or he’s in jail! Either way, go to bed fellas. We came up and your burger was just calling us!!! That’s what you get for scaring us like that!
The rest of the vacation was a blur, but sometimes when the moon is out and the air is jst right, I think about that burger and what could’ve been.
THE END.
I been to all the spots I bolded. A couple others I forgot to mention:
• Cheetahs
• BB King’s (42nd)
• Shark Bar
• Amazura (could be spelling it wrong – in Queens)
I’ma keep it vague. When clubbing at first I used to roll deep. But then I went dolo once and realized that’s the key. At one point, almost always left with something to take home when dolo. Chicks feel intimidated when you rolling thick. Dolo your chances go way up.
If my peoples came thru, I wouldn’t arrive or leave with my boys. Just met them in the spot. That was the trick! Cats couldn’t understand how I always got rhythm at the end of the night to leave with something. I just kept it to myself. Arrive dolo. Leave dolo. But have enough peoples in the spot that it’s evident you are somebody.
I mosdef remember BB Kings and Amazura. But rolling solo was hit or miss. Harder to Mac when running into a group of shorties. Interference matters. I need that bc I’m more subtle. But I hear you on the meeting your peoples there. I’m from Harlem so meeting my Brooklyn or westchester connects at the spot helped.
RIP mags
