Forget the plethora of pictures plastered on your feed by high school girls who look like they were deprived of finger painting as children and now are making up for it with tribal face paint to denote their rebellion. And after you’re done grappling with the fact that girls the size of your pinky are adjacent drinks the size of their faces inundated with sugar and a lollipop for good measure, I suggest you try going somewhere new. That is, If you’re as adamant as me about going to places trending on instagram with filtered #NoFilter pictures and #BestNightEver captions written in a desperate plea for people to covet your “eventful” whereabouts
Grab a friend and set out to find a place you’ve never heard of. Yelp It, Google it, do what you have to do. Tell a cab to drop you off at the meatpacking district, and follow the cobble-brick road. That’s what my friend *Leah Dorfman and I did anyways. The best nights are the ones unplanned, am I right?
We stumbled, (and by stumbled I mean stumbled—reference above to cobble-brick road), across this place on Little West 12th street called The Standard Biergarten overlooking the highline. It had a classy German beer garden feel replete with ping-pong tables, a photo-booth, and an archaic ticketing system. The tables were cozy with candles and the out of towners were friendly with stories.
But I must say, what was extra cool about this place, what really separated it from the rest was: we had no problem getting in. Holla to all my fellow underage Connecticut buddies.
The next morning I told my co-workers, ever the pretentious young’un, about this chic bar Leah* and I discovered last night called The Standard. Whilst crushing my hopes and dreams of attempting to flea the typical scene my co-worker says,
“Oh. The Standard. Everyone knows about that place.”
** Name changed for fake ID purposes