(lounging and watching the crowd at SWAY on Monday)

 Some say nothing in life is free, that is true, unless you live in New York City.

 I love my friends; most of them live here in New York, but I have many that live in California, Florida, New Mexico, or Georgia. My friends in those states balk at the idea of how much rent or taxes I pay here, "How do you eat!?!?" "How do you financially survive there?!" They ask with genuine concern. I assure them that besides the rent, New York City has some of the best deals EVER and I think those are just some of the perks of living in this amazing city. Here is a short list of some of my very favorite cheap deals (for those of you who are cheap dates, or those of you who want to take someone on a cheap date).

1. The Johnson's on Rivington & Essex. $1.50 PBR, and $2 well drinks until 9pm everyday. That's some happy hour, plus the bartenders are all hot (both the boys and the girls- and they will let you flirt with them free of charge!)

2. Bryant Park Monday summer movies series. Grab a picnic basket a bottle of wine and curl up with your love (or lust of the week) and watch a fabulous free movie as the sunsets.

3. Coffee and pastries in Chinatown. First of all the coffee is D-freakin'-licious! I think the secret (ancient chinese secret, huh?) is light cream. The great bakeries are plentiful in Chinatown, and both a pastery and a cup of coffee together will run you about a $1.50.

4. Dumplings in Chinatown. You can get 10 for a buck. "A buck?" you say. A buck. One dollar. One clam.

5. Shakespeare in the Park. For those of you more culturally inclined- you can see free Shakespeare in Central Park if you are willing to get up early and wait outside the ticket booth for a few hours. Trust me it's work the wait and you can get to two tickets for free!

I wanted to find new deals last night (and to see how little I could spend), so I went to another one of my favorite sites:My Openbar.

I took two of my gay boys, my roommate Chris, and my friend Mark, with me for a little "adventure in free" last night. Our first destination was a place near Union Square on 20th and Park (in Grammery) called "FLUTE." The title of the party "Glamorous As You" aka "GAY". The deal, free champagne from 9-10pm. Chris and Mark were down. Gay? Champagne? Hot! Mark, Chris, and I are notoriously late for everything, from going to the movies to a make out session, but for free champagne, we were ten minutes early and the first to arrive. The very kind and sweet host (and perhaps owner?) Al greet us with a warm smile and a bottle of bubble. DJ Romeo was playing lush tunes that complimented the strawberries and cream Al brought out to our table for us to try. The place was packed in under twenty minutes.

At the strike of 10 we thanked Al for his hospitality and cabbed it over to Le Souk for our Monday night complimentary four course meal and cocktails. Once again we were early. We were greated by Jordan (the promoter) and he pointed us to the prime table. The hosts came and brought pitches of sangrias and mojitios, baskets of bread and a chile flecked olive tapenade. The beautiful guests poured in moments after our arrival (including a well know handbag designer- who walked in with what looked like the entire tail of a crocodile turned into bag/briefcase- the poor thing still looked alive!) and then became a standing room only after our second course came.

Chris and I decided to go to our next destination, "Sway" on Spring street as Mark decided to stay behind (could it have been the handsome German who was occupying his time that made him stay put? hmmm....me thinks so).

Sway is hosted by the lovely blond bombshell Roxy (aka Roxy Oxycottentail). She is hands down one of New York Cities best promoters, her crowds and d.j.'s are always FRESH, hot, styling and profiling. I cozied up in the booth and marveled at everyones fantastic clothing choices to the dance hall sounds of the lovely DJ Queen Majesty. After a little dancing, and a little suprise text romancing, my roommate and I kiss and hug our fabulous host good-bye to head back to the Chinatown loft.

Total cost of the evening: $12 (two cab rides)

Having your roommate Chris pay for your cab rides: Priceless

(me, in a lil'room. photo by koury angelo) 

Thursday morning sitting at my desk trying to avoid doing work- I get a text from my photographer friend Koury. One of his photos was being featured at the legendary Milk Studios in Chelsea. The invite featured a New Yorker's favorite word: "FREE." Free Admission, Free BBQ, Free Booze, No RSVP and performance by Gainesville, FL "Against Me!" I was there.

Three of my female co-workers (Lindsay, Anna, and Alison) wanted to come with and as they aren't on the town as often as I am, they came back to my loft in Chinatown to change into some of my party clothes, drink wine, and cab it to Milk.

I knew the with the words "FREE" dangling over this event, that everyone and their hip grandma was going to be there. The event was at 7pm and we arrived at 7:30pm to a line around the block and hordes of pretty people w/ 80's sunglasses on pouring in from all sides.

My girls were panic stricken "Omigod! We're never going to get in!!!" Lindsay says.

"Relax." I say pulling out my Blackberry, "I'll text Koury."

Moments after I text Koury, he tells me to come to the 15th Street entrance. This also turns out to be an obstacle course with landmines as over fifty people are waiting to get in this way. The men at the doors are shouting with their hands out "NO ONE ELSE CAN GET IN THIS WAY!!! WE ARE TOTALLY SERIOUS! EVERYONE LEAVE RIGHT NOW!" Fistfights almost ensue. Who would have thought- all this drama at an artshow.

My girls are ready to leave, when I say "Patience. Koury will be here soon."

Koury comes out from the back room. He has a camera slung around his back like a guitar. Koury is a calming presence, light emits from him, and he is undeniable knee buckling gorgeous (sorry ladies, he is so married). He kissesd me on the cheek, meets the ladies and says with a smile and a soft voice "Follow me." He leads us to elevator, up to the third floor, and then down the stairs.

We're in, and even better- on the stage. The crowd is thick, wall to wall, and a Mariachi band plays while skater boys navigate the half pipe in the room. After a few beers and a spin in the photo-booth I am greeted by another crew of girls I roll with.
They want to go to Max Fish and as the party was winding down we decide to hurtle the puddles of water from the melted keg ice and head to the Lower East Side. We jump in Alyssa's jeep and head out.

After a gin and tonic and good conversation with Aly, Alyssa, and Alanna (yes, the A team) I head to my local watering hole "The Stanton" up the street from "The Box." The Stanton is in Chinatown proper as is The Box. Clubs are popping up all up over my neighborhood- which is FANTASTIC for me! I don't have to schlep it to the Meatpacking district as often, and I can actually walk home from these clubs. The Stanton is very good to me. My friend Felicia makes me a mean (and by mean, I mean, knock you on your a$$) Martini. Todd and Amit, the handsome owners, won't let me pay for it. Usually a kiss on the cheek and a smack on their butt will suffice.

After I leave I walk down toward The Box. There are literally thirty guys in button up shirts and jackets outside with their (dare I say) scantily clad women standing with them. All of them are yelling- "I swear I am on the list!!" or "Do you know who I am!?" I stand and watch the circus like atmosphere.

If you walk past The Box in the daytime (as I have done a thousand times) you would never know it was there. It blends in with Chinatowns' bakeries and non-descript storefronts. The only indication that something more might be going on is the small box office window that has a red curtain draped over it. The two doors guys look and me and smile. I talk to them every time I walk home. I have even given them nicknames, "Rocko" and "The Face" (yes, ok, I like the A-team). "The Face" pulls me over. "You going home Maya?" He says holding my hand.

"I was thinking about it. Whatcha got going on tonight?" I say.

"You know...the same scandalust stuff." He says with a smile.

"You talked me into." I say and I walk inside.

It's funny. A lot of people make a big deal about going to The Box. But to me, it doesn't take Jedi mind tricks to get in. It's in my neighborhood. I've gotten to know some of the staff and, well, I am also a girl that likes to wear tight dresses (they're tasteful people!).
I like The Box, not because of the Celebrity element. Come on, you can get that anywhere in New York. I sat next to Parker Posey at a movie this weekend. But, I like how they put it together. It is apparent that the main owner Simon Hammerstein, (who was p.s. talking way to loud on his cell phone in my office last month) put a lot of thought into the club. It feels partially like an old hotel lobby, a cabaret space, and a speakeasy all rolled into one. You walk in and there is an old box office to your left (which is why I think it's called The Box gentleman, and not alluding to female genitalia as some of my guy friends have thought. Dirty Dirty Boys). It's dimily, but warmly lit, and there is a beautiful long bar that leads you to a back room, where there are heavy red theatrical curtains that have the words "The Box" projected through a die-cut gobo light. They cover a decent size stage on which performances range from the beautiful (The Cary Brothers) to the absurd (um, acccording to Von Von Von, there are performers that actually stick their bottoms on patons faces...hmmm).  Upstairs in the balcony there are closed curtained VIP rooms, where I think some sweet make out action takes place (just ask Mickey Rourke. Actually I was told he was in the bathroom getting pleasured. TACKY or HOT? You decide).

I walk to the end of the bar, where a Wallstreet type offers to buy me a drink. I accept. The lovely bartender makes me something thick with Vodka and Chambord in a martini glass (Every once in a while I tell a Bartender to "surprise me" with a drink. This one was fantastic). The gentleman begins to tell me of a tough break up he has just gone through. I don't know what it is about my face that says "therapist" but men in clubs do tend to pour their heart out to me. My therapy session only lasts as long as my drink. I give him a hug good bye, thank him for the drink, and a "Hang in There Champ." I give "Rocko" and "The Face" kisses good-bye.

As I walk away I get frustrated looks from the same men that were standing there outside when I walked in two hours before and I laugh. I wanted to say "Oh honey! There are many other clubs in NYC!" But then again, men are always trying to get into the box.

 (photo by koury angelo)

Considering that it was a Monday- I was going to take the night off from going out. After all, I am a 9 to 5 woman, and wearing sunglasses at your desk with little packets of Alka-Seltzer, Vitamin Water, and V-8 don't bode well with the boss. I was also looking forward to catching up on my sleep and let's face it keeping a little money in my pocket. Everyone in New York these days seems to have a cash flow problem, even Trump, and I'm no exception. According to my friend Kim, cash and good fortune was about to flow back to me again.

Last Thursday I was sitting in Max Fish on the Lower East Side with two of my girlfriends Kim and Jes. We like Max Fish, not only because there is a pool table, pinball machine, and good drink specials, but also because the boys are good eye candy, but they are only eye candy. Anyone that has ever dated a skateboarder, surfer, actor, or bartender knows what I am talking about. It's also the kind of place where a guy will ask you to buy them a drink, not the other way around.

We were sitting next to the pinball machine drinking PBR's when my palm began to itch.

"Quick! Make a fist and put it in your pocket!" Kim screamed as she rolled my hand into a fist.

"What? What are you talking about?" I said confused.

"I'm superstitious! If your palm itches, that means money is coming to you, but you have to put your hand in your pocket!" Kim said enthusiastically.

I wasn't against a little superstition that might bring me some welcome cash flow.

The weekend comes and goes. Before I know it, I am at my gym Equinox checking my messages in the locker room when Mark calls me. "You have to come out tonight!" Mark says with almost a whine. "It's going to be cute."

Mark is a fashion coordinator, with great fashion sense. He can pull together a great pair of paper thin jeans with his Cartier rings and a Paul Smith shirt in a New York second. He also lives for the nightlight, cute rocker boys, and disco naps.

"Mark, It's Monday night, I'm at the gym, and I want to catch up on my sleep and..."

"Girl, you know your apartment is SWEATSHOP hot! Le Souk is air conditioned with free drinks, free food, and the crowd is going to be cute."

"Alright, I'll meet you at 11pm." I have always been easily persuaded when it comes to going out.

I go to Piano's on Ludlow with my beautiful French cousin Sophie to have a pre-Le Souk drink. Piano's is another eye candy place if you are into boys with over worked hair (which I am not) or tattoos (which I am) or boys that are in bands (which, by the way- you can't swing a  Balenciaga bag with out hitting someone at Pianos that is in a band). Even Chris Martin from Coldplay was their last week, casually eating fries and looking at the crowd.

I walk in and begin to simultaneously (but lightly) flirt with the bar-back and the door guy while I wait for Mark to meet me to go over to Le Souk. One of the guys is adorable, with beautiful blond hair indie rock hair, and the other is well, fierce (as Mark put it), with raven black hair, piecing eyes, tattoos, and Italian features. The one with tattoos is very respectful and a little reserved. "Ah, he must have a girlfriend." I say to myself. I hug him good night; he kisses me on the cheek. "See you soon?" He says as I walk away. "Yeah, I'll pop back in again." Smiling coyly. I walk over to say good-bye to the other one, who had been telling me that he was thinking of leaving New York. I tell him he should stay in New York; there is no better city, when he blurts out "I have a girlfriend." I started to laugh.

He begins to blush, "Um, I just realized that you didn't actually ask me out..."

"No, I didn't, but you're really sweet..." I said with a smile. After he finished shaking his head from embarrassment, he gave me hug and I walked outside.

Mark and I meet in front of Piano's and like a perfect gentlemen, he opened the cab door for me. I looked down at the cab floor and it looked like someone had left a 20-dollar bill on the floor. I was wrong. It was a $100 bill. "Oh hell yes!!!" I said.

"Damn it!" Mark said, "I should have gotten into the cab first!!!"

"Don't worry honey, shots of Patron on me." I said.

Mark and I walked into Le Souk, where he was correct: the crowd was cute, the music was good, and Jordan's (the promoter) table was overflowing with beautiful guests, Cliquot, and Grey Goose. Le Souk is a Moroccan themed night club with fabric flowing from the ceiling dotted with glowing metal lanterns. Mark and I sit next to the hookah and he pours me a glass of champagne. As I sip I look over and see an incredibly handsome man. Mark looks him over and gives me the "stats".

"Prada mules, Dolce and Gabbana watch, Paul Smith pocket square. Nice double-breasted hand stitched jacket." Mark said caressing his glass of Cliquot.

"Gay?" I ask Mark.

"No, European." He said back.

Just then I made eye contact with him.

"I'm going to give him the profile." I say slyly to Mark.

"Slowly girl, slowly, don't wanna give him whiplash." Mark says with a smile.

I walk around the club, when the handsome man grabs my hand, he asks if I am leaving. He has a beautiful accent that I can quite discern. When I say no I am not leaving, he asks if we can go to a quiet corner and talk.
He is sweet, Turkish (ah! I would have never guessed in a million years), a fashion designer, incredibly polite, and he smells like amber.

It is 2am and Cinderalla's carriage is about to turn into a pumpkin so I dash outside and hail a cab to head home to chinatown. I look down at the cab floor- no money, but I have a feeling that will be a habit now...

 NEXT POST: "THE BOX": Ancient Chinese Secret Huh?