A Summer Night out in NYC (Happy Birthday, Sadie)

Sometimes writing inspiration comes from strange, unexpected places, and last Saturday, mine came from the musty basement of a deli in downtown Brooklyn. 

My night started late as I waited for my friend Heaven to get off work at 11 PM. Our plan was to go to a bar in Clinton Hill, where our friend, Sadie, was having her birthday celebration. I had only met Sadie briefly a week before, and was meeting most of the people there that night for the first time. I always feel funny arriving at a bar hangout late and having a sense that I’m playing catch-up with those who had been drinking for the past two hours. 

But before I even got the chance to order a drink, the idea of relocating was floated. Factions emerged, with some arguing that it would be easier to stay because it was such a large group, while others pointed out that the bar would close at 2 AM and that we would need to find another after-hours spot anyway. Indifferent, I sat back while a group of over 20 people negotiated the matter. There was one thing they eventually all agreed upon: the birthday girl gets to dictate the night. Sadie wanted to continue drinking and sing karaoke. The following 30 minutes of the night were confusing to me, as people shared the address of a deli in downtown Brooklyn, which supposedly had karaoke. When I looked up the deli, it stated it was closed, but they insisted this was not the case. This is where I stopped asking questions. 

The next step was coordinating Uber rides. Needless to say, getting a large group of already drunk people to arrange the appropriate number of cars to the same location is not an easy task. While watching this unfold outside, I flinched at the sudden, piercing, shrill sound of a whistle. People’s hands shot up over their ears in unison. The whistleblower was a member of our party who got fed up with the slow movement and decided to rally everyone herself. After another painful whistle blow, which gave me flashbacks to running track in high school, she impressively organized the group within a few minutes. While we did lose a few people in the process, the majority of us arrived at the deli in a timely fashion, safe and sound. 

My Uber arrived first. From the outside, it appeared like an ordinary Brooklyn deli. There was no music playing inside, and no customers, which made me feel like I had to whisper. The only rule was that to enter the basement, you had to buy a beer. The staircase to the basement was semi-hidden behind a grocery shelf. To be honest, when I first descended into the basement, seeing and smelling the “hidden gem” after-hours spot that everyone was so excited about, I questioned why we had come all this way. 

The first thing that greets you at the bottom of the stairs is a haphazardly hung sheet with a brick pattern (to match the brick walls, of course). Next to it was a TV playing jewelry infomercials and a tiny karaoke machine. The only other decor was massive, floor-to-ceiling photo prints. Most looked like pictures you would see in a National Geographic magazine. There were two men in the basement already, sitting with perhaps ten cans of tallboy Modelos, who seemed unperturbed by our loud group of twenty overtaking the space. I had so many questions, I didn’t even know where to start. 

The feeling of this room made me think of a Balkan internet cafe: dim lighting, ceaseless humming noise, and outdated decor. So many aspects of it felt slightly cursed and out of place. The bathroom had a misleading "Out of Order" sign on the door, despite working perfectly fine. This had to be one of the best after-hours spots in New York City. 

I only take handwritten notes unless it's an emergency, and I don’t have access to a pen and paper. Consequently, I often find myself crouching in corners, balancing my notebook on my knees, taking any moment of writing inspiration, no matter how crowded or chaotic the environment might be. 

As the empty cans started to pile up, the night got increasingly unhinged, and the karaoke sounded worse and worse. Every once in a while, one of the employees would come downstairs, weaving through the crowd, to take packs of beer out of a storage closet. 

Birthday presents were passed around: A box of Rock Candy and lottery tickets.

With cheap drinks and snacks right above you, free unlimited karaoke, and open 24 hours, it doesn’t get much better than this.

Happy birthday, Sadie.