Back in the late '80s, when I was prone to wearing an oversized hoodie with even larger camouflage cutoffs, my bridge-and-tunnel brethren thought it was pretty badass to make the trek from the 14th Street PATH station all the way down to the Bowery for a CBGB's hardcore matinee. We usually wound up dodging balloons full of piss thrown from apartment windows, and, once we arrived, our fellow patrons (dudes nicknamed "Psycho," etc.) thoroughly unnerved our lily-white suburban asses. And yet you'd always hear some old-schooler mutter, "This place is a fuckin' romper... More >>>