Some friends took me to the Black Eagle the other night. We got some drinks - $42 bucks for three beers and three shots! Holy fuck! - and I eventually staggered home. But I was so drunk I couldn’t stay put, so I went back out and found Urge.
Urge used to reside in that drab wasteland near the NOW Magazine offices, but lately it has moved, to the space above Kitaro at 459 Church Street. The thing is, you have to approach it from the laneway behind Woody’s. The hot Aussie who runs it - Andrew, I think his name is - has done everything right. You enter via a dark laneway and climb a metal staircase, beckoned by a green light. You slip $10 through a hole in a door and you are buzzed in. Inside, the place is (in my best Donald Trump impersonation) HUGE, and rather busy on a Saturday night around 1 AM. I stumble around, trying not to collide with other wasted guys. Because I am blind drunk, the only thing I’m good for is a show, so I dodge into a glory hole booth and look through the crotch-height hole in the wall at the guys next door. They are grunting, and fucking, and naked, and not hideous, so it’s a lot like watching a good but not great porn disc. I enjoyed it immensely, and applauded when it was over.
By then, it was time to go home. I steadied myself - didn’t want to look a shambles on Church Street, still so busy at this time of night - and finally made it all the way to my apartment. Wow, what a journey. I am going to hate myself tomorrow. But I will wake up loving Urge. And admission is only one-fourth of what it takes for three guys to buy one round of drinks at the super-overpriced Black Eagle. Check out Urge now!