Le Poisson Rouge

Where were we? Drinks at the swanky Church Lounge at Tribeca Grand Hotel. Right. Having finished our refreshing beverages, D met up with us and we hopped in a couple of cabs heading uptown to Le Poisson Rouge, on Bleecker Street between Thompson and Sullivan Streets.

Now, cabs in New York City are a funny thing. When you don’t need them, they are everywhere. When you really really need one, there’s not an empty cab to be found. This particular night we weren’t necessarily in strong need of a cab, but they were definitely plenty. D walked out to 6th Ave, stuck his hand out, and two cabs pulled over. It was actually perfect, as there were 6 of us and no cab in its right (or even wrong) mind would take 6 passengers. So the girls hopped in the first cab, the boys in the other, and our (the boys’) cab driver took off like there was no tomorrow. We were the get-away car weaving in and out of traffic, the driver honking and swearing like a sailor at traffic, pedestrians literally leaping out of the way to avoid getting run over. I was kind of afraid for my life. Just a little.

After the ride of terror and a slight discrepancy in price/payment of our cab — which, incidentally ended with the cab driver getting twice what he earned or deserved, grumble, grumble — we arrived at Le Poisson Rouge. It means The Red Fish – though looking at the entrance I tend to think The Dead Fish instead. Still, it’s a cute place.

There are two parties at LPR. One is a downstairs bar & lounge with a DJ and a modest dance floor. The other is apparently a concert venue with a $10 cover charge. Having just gotten ripped off by our cab driver, we opted for the no-cover space. For 2:30 am on a Friday night it was a little dead — surprising considering how sleek the place is. LPR is known for hosting some up-and-coming but awesome DJs, so we decided to stay, have a drink, and dance what was left of the night away.

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