On the night that my promoter was working at the rooftop bar (Z-bar), two of my NYU Kappa friends came with me. We decided that nothing in the world was more important than free alcohol, getting hit on by old businessmen, and dancing in the warm summer air atop New York City. This bar was up by Times Square. At 11:45pm, I arose from the ground of the Q-Subway onto the brighter-than-day flashing streets. This was actually the first time since I’ve been here that I was directly in the middle of Times Square. I’d been kind of avoiding Times because all the locals warn, “Do NOT go there, it’s a tourist trap.”
I didn’t realize how far Z-bar was off Times Square. I found myself walking 6 Avenues (much longer than blocks) East in order to find the entrance line. My friends were waiting for me, since I was quite late after staying to look after my little cousin. It took us a lot longer to get in than usual because you’re supposed to walk in with your promoter and the rest of their group. After Simon went in with everyone else, he could not easily come back out to get us because he had to man his table of ladies at all times. We were put in the back of the line, which was a weird and unwelcomed change from how we’re usually treated.
Once in, we hiked to the rooftop. I swear that in New York, over half of the buildings are not ADA accessible, which is weird coming from studying architecture, where everything we designed needed to be compliant. At last we surfaced in an interior club where Simon made us cocktails and told us to go play out on the roof. There were bouncers lining the steps to the roof because drunkenness and heels are a horrible combination. Upon arrival, I was completely sober, and even I was having a hard time not getting tripped up over my own feet.
On the rooftop, we made friends with some boys. They were not cute, by any means, but they had purchased a $70 hookah from the bar and offered us as much as we wanted. Score! It’s a nasty concept, but I actually really enjoy smoking hookah. I wouldn’t make it into a daily practice, but when offered some for free on a rooftop balcony, why say no? There was literally not a single good-looking guy at this place in my picky opinion. The only guy I found attractive was the photographer, who was being just as flirtatious with every other girl as he was with me. Seriously, everyone that works in the bars/clubs here are paid to flirt. Where do I sign up?!
We left around 3:30am when the party was definitely dying out. Once out, we began walking toward the subway we came on. All of a sudden, a large wet blob splatted on my bare leg. A strange clear glob was on my thigh, and looking up I realized that a man on the rooftop above had hocked a loogie without even a “heads up below” first. I was panicking that someone’s slimy wet mucus was clinging to my leg and started screeching in distress. A construction crew heard my cry and ran over to see what the fuss was all about. I told them the story and asked them if they had hand sanitizer. I was in luck and a man pumped the liquid into my hand. I told him to keep going. “Are you going to bathe in it?” He asked. Of course I was going to bathe in it! Some random stranger’s spit was covering my body! I was so disturbed by this situation that I sobered up completely and decided to take a cab home with the girls.
Always,
Alena Netia Horowitz
