No, I have not yet been inside Kiss & Fly. My body’s fighting it. Maybe because of the trauma I witnessed on their Wednesday opening night.

Wednesday was supposed to be a soft opening for press. From what I could tell, there was nothing soft about it. The establishment seemed wildly overwhelmed in every sense of the word, even early on in the evening.

Curios, I walked by the place opening night at 12:15 A.M. knowing there’d be little chance of getting in. I was right. What I didn’t predict however, is how utterly disorganized the door would be.

First, we had our typical door people with Bluetooth headsets whispering amongst themselves like troubled middle school girls, ignoring all the desperate partygoers around them. They seemed frantic. We had bouncers screaming for everyone “to clear the sidewalk,” but instead of just vocalizing their instructions, they physically pushed people too. Classy. Nothing however, beats the fact that at 12:20 P.M. all the doormen disappeared inside, never to be seen again. That’s right. We had an EMPTY boxed in red velvet square outside the club. I’ve never seen this before in my life. And it wasn’t just empty for five minutes while the frazzled doormen ran about inside or chugged tequila shots at the bar. It was empty for a solid twenty minutes until at 12:38 P.M. someone came out and announced that they were “closing the door for an hour, absolutely no one was getting in.”

Then the out front was empty again.

Really?

Shame on us for getting to a hyped club opening past 12:15 A.M. I knew we wouldn’t get in. But shame on Kiss & Fly for not establishing some entry pacing so that they didn’t have to shut down their door at 12:30 – an hour at which most going-outers are just arriving at their destination. Too packed and having to shut down the door at 1:30 A.M. makes sense on an opening night. At 12:30, I think it just shows serious disorganization.

On the sidewalk with me, a noteworthy promoter and his entourage who (like everyone) had been denied entry explained:

“They were begging me to work here, so I said I’d come by and check out how they were at the opening. Guess all my questions are answered.”

He and his friends piled back into their black jeep and wisely sped away from the madness. I used my time out front to interview the people who were leaving, many of whom were promoters or nightlife aficionados.

“How was it inside?” I asked one of my departing friends.

“Like this.” He proceeded to dry hump me. “It’s so crowded in there you can’t even move. I accidentally touched over five women in places you should never touch women. They would’ve smacked me but no one had enough room to raise an arm.”

Other reviews were:

“Lots and lots of bottle service. Tons of tables in little nooks with elevated areas.”

“I heard they decorated a ton, but it still feels like Aer.”

And…

“It’s the next Pink Elephant, but will probably die out in the spring. Its location will kill it. No one wants to go out in meatpacking.”

Of those who did make it inside earlier in the night, the doorman split up groups saying:

“Women only. Only the girls are getting in, thanks.”

I don’t like this. People go out with a group of friends and want to stay together. Any classy establishment should try to accommodate. Men have to pay. Fine. Men have to get bottle service. Okay. But men with girls are denied entry all together: Not cool. That’s a club just acting way too prima donna for my taste, although I’m sure they’ll start to lax up when they’ve recovered from their four night opening delirium.

I haven’t yet been inside – so I've made no official judgments yet. I was supposed to go Saturday, but a voice in my head warned me against it. Most people have been instructing me to avoid Kiss & Fly for the time being deeming it ‘too crazy.’

For the sake of the club’s reputation, let’s hope they hire more door people.