The Night of

Me & some of the super friends decide to link & go support my sister Lily Vanilli. After a text exchange with Lily we link in the lobby of the hotel, exchange pleasantries & tell her we’ll catch her inside & leave it at that. To enter the bar you have to enter from the side of the hotel -told you this place was cool. Standing in front of the doors were two men; one was obviously the bouncer [Big Mofo], the other was a small guy with a perv-style mustache that we’ll call simply Mustache. Mustache asked if he could help us, to which I replied were here for tonight’s party & with a puzzled look on his well thought out mugg he asked “which party is that?” I politely but far from soft answered Moma’s [www.djmoma.com] Party; He’s your DJ tonight. He tells me (us) “That’s great, but I can’t let you three in” & proceeds to deliver in a well executed condescending voice with shrugged shoulders “my hands are tied, it’s not me, its the bar -their policy, I can’t let you in,” “three guys, I don’t know, I just can’t do it” [mind you, its 9pm, maybe even 8:30pm, we are the only three persons not working at the Trump Soho standing for 100 feet].

One of the super friends says “tell ’em you the guest DJs manager“. Mustache hearing this reverts back to the “my hands are tied” line. So the super friends suggest I call or text my DJ to get us in. At this point, I’m done with this place, I’m done talking with Mustache -in my mind I’m thinking of other events, I can go to & not deal with this shit. So I tell the super friends, let’s go to the Von (3 Bleecker St, LES) the big homie DJ Eleven has a weekly party called FAM that always delivers. “Are you sure?” I’m asked? I say to the super friends & Mustache, “He [Mustache] obviously will not let us in & it’s out of his hands [air quotes] cause he [Mustache] has made it clear that he [Mustache] makes no decision on his own“. So I lead the charge to the corner to wave down a cab.

As I’m walking up to the corner my DJ is watching me walk from the hotel & hailing a cab -she ask us what was wrong -so I let her know what had happened [www.thefeedbak.com] she says “fuck that” [all 98lbs] of her, she takes us inside the hotel to the guest entrance where there’s another door man, who’s much older, sorta grandpa-ish & he gladly lets us in.

The Kastel

The inside of the bar was pretty damn awesome. The DJ booth was flanked by a small bar -both are set above the main space of the bar that has a spacious floor with tables that line the right & left of the floor that take you up to the main bar, which was gorgeous. I’ve been to my share of bars/clubs, some very nice, some dives, some ride the line. The ones that are supposed to be nice all get judged by one element -ICE. If I’m paying $15 for a drink, I shouldn’t have a glass of McDonald’s ice. Trump SoHo -step ya ice game up! Drinks were ehh, space was posh, staffs outside of Mustache were nice & sounds were by Moma & Lily Vanilli & had the crowd in a controlled frenzy.

The super friends and I got our fill of the Trump Soho and we decided to take the party elsewhere. Walk out the back or walk out the front was the question, I made the call to exit the front. With the super friends in front of me, we walked out the same front door we couldn’t get into and as I walked out I patted bouncer and mustache on the back and said “enjoy your night fellas!” You could hear the sarcasm in my voice and see the “you bitch-ass” on my face. Truth be told; Big Mofo could care less but Mustache was perturbed [SAT word].