5 Ways To Get Into THE Club (if you dare)

Going out in the city can be daunting. There are so many factors to consider— is this going to be a night of a) bar hopping, b) clubbing, c) karaoke, d) comedy, or perhaps, e) some impromptu party at some guy’s apartment in Brooklyn who goes by the name “Pi”??
Indeed, any of these possibilities could result in the ultimate goal… drinking, having fun and laughing your pants off (literally and figuratively, but hopefully not at the same time).
Unless you are in “the scene” or “know people” or have a third boob, it’s not always easy to get past the doormen and into the places that you heard Ashton Kutcher hit up last weekend…But I’m here to tell you that “the scene” is not all its cracked up to be and it’s nearly impossible to keep up with because the lifespan of a trendy bar or club has a suspiciously similar longevity to that of a botox injection… coincidence? I THINK NOT! The socialites of New York dare not become “regulars” anywhere… except in the chair of the best surgeon in town.
If, however, you are so compelled to risk a dehumanizing rejection at the velvet ropes of say, Tenjune… I would do the following… (where there’s a will, there’s a way..)
1. Throw a couple names at the doorman like “I’m here with Scooter’s party” or “Is Terrick working tonight?”
2. No guys in your group.
3. Don’t over-sell your posse. Skirts always help, but too much sexiness and/or polyester seems desperate and cheap.
4. Pay the doorman.
5. Make friends with the people standing outside the club (not immediately outside the entrance… in fact, no less than half a block away) on their cell phones looking like they are waiting for people. These are oftentimes promoters. So go flirt. Bat your lashes. Ask for a light. Do your thing, but you’d be lucky to get more than two or three girlfriends in this way.
In the end, don’t expect too much excitement you won’t get from any other place in Manhattan. My experience at clubs like Tenjune are not remarkable. It is a matter of absolute certainty that you will come home with a decent cranberry juice stain to forever remind you of how malnourishment is not good for the ol’ balance (beware of the clusters of models; they’ll destroy your outfit every time).
So I will leave you with this piece of advice… be your OWN scene. Check out the bar that is so endearingly uncool; where hot dogs go to die and the jukebox always knows when to play “Sweet Caroline”… click your heels together Dorothy Gale style, cause the scene you seek has been with you all along.

The Play Of My Life: My Dad, Some Thai Food, and the Cold, Calculating Chokehold of Inevitability
The Play Of My Life: My Dad, Some Thai Food, and the Cold, Calculating Chokehold of Inevitability
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