22nd Jun 2003
The Bulgar
I know my out-of-town friends think from this blog that I spend every weekend at the Bulgarian Bar, for all I carry on about it. In fact, in the three and a half years that I’ve lived in NYC, I’ve only been there maybe six times. It’s just that it’s so damn much fun every time that I normally blog about each visit, which just makes it seem like I spend all my time there. What more to say? I wish I knew the name of the Romanian Gypsy brass band that was playing there last night to give them props. Not on stage, just a dozen funky horns bobbing amidst the thronging masses on the dance floor. Epic fun, as usual. Dancing on the tables. Sex in the air. Cigarette smoke, too. True, I don’t get out much, but I am quite sure there’s not else like it in NY, or anywhere on this side of the Danube, for that matter. Everyone at the Bulgar is 19 years old, even if you’re pushing 40 or beyond.
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