by mabel s. on *lethargic/nostalgic sigh* 5th night on this "Non-Stop Aggressive Rallying" tour...its now Tuesday....and we're going to Greenhouse. My g/f is on her way back from LGA after her flight has been canceled. I am already back from Food Bazaar, where I haven't been in daysss and was starting to suffer Food Bazaar withdrawal. Wondering where to take her for dinner....Tai Thai? Done. Get a text from the CV promoter we met the night before, who also promotes at Greenhouse, so looks like we're going...out....again. As we are putting on our make-up and "ensembleys," we are maniacally laughing: "What the F are we doing right now?! SO aggressive!!" Stroll into Greenhouse around 11ish...trying to convince ourselves that tonight will be an easy night out. We're sat down and immediately presented with a bottle of vodka and all the trimmings. Drinks poured, drinks drank, music on, dancing on, smoki...wait, what??...EVERYTHING was ON. Apparently, 'Lil John was there. Apparently, he was on the mic and apparently I did not see him, but I guess you could say I could feel his essence. Made friends, had a champagne toast for idk what (some underage girl's bday no doubt), and took some fancy photos w/ pretty lights. Got home, no puking, and didn't lose anything: 5 stars. I will go again, BUT only if I can repeat this same exact night. ZING. The next morning, I sent her off back to Miami (for sure this time) and went back to work. A month later, I started writing this series of reviews to commemorate the best Memorial Day Wknd of "Non-Stop Aggressive Rallying" I've ever had. Who needs a scrapbook, when you've got rateclubs?
by Aurelio Letsche on I left LA for a few reasons. Clubs like this was one of them. I had been looking forward to catching Nic Fanciulli's DJ set for a couple weeks. I had never been to Vessel, so I kept an open mind. As we arrive in the alleyway, I see a giant mob of people and immediately ask myself, "How do they decide who gets in the club without any traditional prioritization structure (AKA A FUCKING LINE)" I push my way to the front and make way for my friends. I assume everyone in the outside didn't buy presales in advance, so we wouldn't have to deal with the same shit they do...I tell the bouncer I had presales, so he takes my credit card and disappears inside. He comes back out and apparently forgot about me. I wait a few minutes, and mention to him again that I had presales. He asked my name and asked for my credit card. I had to remind him that he already had my credit card. Ah, he forgot. Ok he comes out with the tickets. Great! It's approaching 11:30, and Fanciulli must be starting his set soon. Now that I have my tickets I can just walk right in... No. THE POSSESSSION OF TICKETS IN HAND has no effect on your chances of getting in the club. I'm standing at the gate, the front of the mob, I make eye contact with the bouncer, waving my ticket. Ignored. I have my female friend try to do the same. Ignored. This garbage took place for about 15 minutes. So I did it. I did what I told myself I would never do. I bribed the bouncer. I gave him $40, and oh all of a sudden my friends and I were a priority. Fuck that. I guess I should review the rest of the club: 1) Free coat check 2) Most of the people too cool to dance 3) For the people who tried to dance, it was too crowded to enjoy it. Things cleared out after 1AM though, so that was good. I did not buy any drinks. I had no incentive to contribute to the profits of this poorly run establishment. I felt like I was in LA again. Fail
by David D. on Fast bartenders, strong drinks, good old-time music. What was it? 80s? This is half an office building in one big room with a balcony overlooking the floor. The famous painting on the back wall was OK, but I was much more impressed with the pictures in the table tops. Now, when a living legend declared the end of one of the most famous happy hour gatherings in America, the DYL, whose name is known coast to coast, I decided to show up. I felt like I might be attending the last Monday Night Class with Steven Gaskin, or something like that. It turned out the room was spacious enough that we could all walk around, and the music was just turned up to a point where we could still hear each other. I also found that in the glass smoking cage the music was shut out well enough that we could hold conversations at normal voice levels. What was nice about walking into this spacious lounge was that I immediately recognized about 1/3 of the people. It was great to have a starting point of kind of knowing each other; that broke the ice really quickly. Social comfort led to honest dialogue, and I found my inner child talking directly to other persons' inner children. At times I was brought up to a more intellectual conversation, sometimes about multiple relationships and sometimes about the value of honesty in all interpersonal communication. Along that line, I got a lesson or two in how jokes can be misinterpreted, and how when I don't get the joke my perception of reality is seriously distorted. I'm one of those people who can dish it out, but can't take it. The crowd was reserved, for the most part, and there wasn't much for the bouncers to do except repeatedly ask the ladies to stop making out with each other. As the happy hour wound down and we drifted to other bars, I thought this was a very nice bar to have right downtown. The insights into other Rateclubers' lives were more than worth the $5 price of the well drinks. P.S. This bar is cash only, and their ATM was out of order.
