By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
By Steve Weinstein
By Araceli Cruz
"It's definitely not the cool thing anymore," DB says. "But I was into it before it was a cool thing. Maybe it'll be the cool thing again, one day."
I went to Konkrete Jungle to end my official participation in New York nightlife the way I began it nearly eight years ago. This is my final column. After five years, I'm hanging up the Fly Life hat to become a staff writer and broaden my horizons (read: see daylight).
I'd like to dedicate this column to the people who served as my introduction to New York nightlife, and those who tolerated me for many years, including but not limited to Siouxie Zimmerman, Gamall Awad, Justin Bond, Mario Diaz, Murray Hill, Larry Tee, Tommie Sunshine, Lyle Derek, Honey Dijon, Sherry Vine, Misstress Formika, the World FamousBOB*, Julie Atlas Muz, Robert Johnson, Tommy Saleh, Mandy Brooks, Kimyon, Elan Ackerman, the MisShapes, and Thomas Onorato. Thanks to Mr. Musto, Frank Owen, and Steven Lewis for the nightlife education. Thanks to David Rabin and Robert Bookman for hours of healthy discourse and ideological rabble-rousing. Norman Siegel, Paul Chevigny, and the many cabaret-law activists who've fought to get this stupid law off the booksyou are my heroes. There are more: You know who you are.
And I will always remember, mostly with fondness, all of the parties and places I've seen: Motherfucker, MisShapes, Siberia, Mama's Bar, Rated X, the Cock, the Hole, Halcyon, Matter:/form boat rides, Bunker at subTonic, the Dark Room, Nublu, P.S. 1, Body and Soul, Shelter, Cielo, Centro-Fly, Luxx, APT, Plant Bar, Filter 14. There are too many people to thank (don't worry, I won't soon forget) and too many moments to immortalize. I'd need three columns to do everyone justice, but I don't have that. Party over: out of time.