Wednesday night Upstairs, the exclusive SoHo club and location of much debauchery like dollar bill tossing, was raided by the cops.

Old news.

The charges had something to do with liquor license violations and a legal problem with the sound system. All I focused on was trying to hide my inherent panic: Where would I go to hear Hip Hop and Bruce Springsteen in the same night? Where would men go to meet models age sixteen and under? Where would Leonardo Di Caprio go to schmooze low key with his entourage?

Full Article Here

Separately, my Friday night out was a nightlife disaster. A going out abortion. And I still want a do-over. I won’t bore anyone with the tragic details, but I’ll say it started at the Black & Light Ball which while festive, would’ve been much more entertaining had I consumed hallucinogenics, beta-blockers or even just liquor before attending. That’s my own fault for leaving my apartment sober and wearing outrageously uncomfortable shoes.

I then voyaged to Made in Italy at Mansion which was such a horrifying hive of undulating, wasted, slithering bodies that I left after twenty minutes. Calling Mansion ‘overcrowded’ would be an understatement. Not only that, there was no liquor in sight and I didn’t consider body surfing to the bar a viable option – so I remained sober even longer.

Next I tried my luck at the usually fail-proof Upstairs, only to discover Leonardo Di Caprio happened to be frequenting the place, and therefore the security guards were treating patrons like undervalued cattle. So we made a quick detour to 1Oak, and when it became apparent they weren’t going to let anyone in at 4:15 AM, we drove aimlessly around the city before arriving it home.

Nights out. You can’t win ‘em all.