There’s little to write about the night. Meatpacking was as dead as I’ve ever seen it. Started at Brassmonkey, the crowd was unusual. I walked up to three girls and asked “Does everyone here know each other?” She replies “Nice pickup line, your friend already asked us the same thing. Yeah we do, we all work together.” No idea who this friend was. Must have been other guys here before me. That girl was, and I rarely use this word, a bitch. No other sets, leave.
Biergarten, fucking dead. There are no sets. I don’t mean there aren’t any ideal sets, I mean there is nothing. Go to Gaslight, it’s dead. Don’t even bother with Gansevoort, it’s entire crowd is probably three pensioners talking about when radio was hip. Cielo might be decent but I’m banned from there for getting a little bit too rowdy this summer. Decide to check out this new place called Park that I’ve been hearing about. It’s dead, nothing. Last effort, go to Tippler and it’s decent. Few sets. I end up opening one but the girl is distracted and or drunk. It fizzles.
Biggest mistake of the night. One other set in the Tippler that I really want to open. Three girls. I’m scared though, I just couldn’t pull it off. I couldn’t put the gun to my own head to make it happen. Disappointing, but considering all the awesome shit I do I’m hardly beating myself up. Biggest lesson is simply that Meatpacking may suck hard on a Wednesday. Better to take the train to Turtle Bay. It’s out of my way but if Meatpacking is going to be such a whore I might as well just do it. Tomorrow is Thursday, it will be a completely different scene. Meeting up with the cool guy I met on Tuesday at 13 Step. Psyched.