Monday, September 10, 2012

On Discerning When Going to Happy Ending is a Bad Idea…

Published 9/10/2012

I’ll give you a hint: the answer is most of the time, unless of course the promise of hearing all the Rihanna songs you heard on the radio in your car on the way there thrills you. This will most certainly happen while you’re there. But alas, a coworker was having a birthday gathering , and partly because I’m making a serious effort to be less misanthropic , but mostly because no one wanted to see Manhattan in the cemetery with me, I decided to go.

Now to be fair, Happy Ending does have a few great qualities, like awesome fish tacos, cheap valet parking, and a vending machine with beerpong balls in it. As much as I am loathe to admit it, I actually have fun when I go there. But yet…

The people who frequent this place are just… One of my friends was deciding what to wear and I was having trouble convincing her not to waste a dress, and not until I told her that the guys wearing plaid shirts were dressed up did she acquiesce and throw on some jeans.  When we arrived and she saw that I was not exaggerating, she was a little surprised. That however was nothing compared to the shock her  lungs were experiencing as they tried to breathe the dense fog of unfiltered Axe body spray. On the opposite end of the Joe College spectrum there was a guy, there’s always one, in a serious suit. Like, Barney Stinson serious. This could have been an honest mistake, as I too put far too much effort into my ensemble the first time I went there, but as he was exuding an air of newly-promoted-talent-manager pseudo importance, I could do nothing but laugh. Didn’t he know that Happy Ending is where you come to get sloppy? You are not Chuck Bass sir; take that ish to Soho House!

Aside from the demographics, Happy Ending, and all establishments like it for that matter, are a snare for reasons that cannot be explained. Like the Overlook Hotel in The Shining,  these buildings  posses people to do things that under normal circumstances, or at least without alcohol, they would never, ever do.  As I have temporarily sworn off the devil’s  juice due to the inauspicious manner in which my last outing ended, I had the pleasure of observing all of these strange happenings as they transpired.

 There were of course the requisite coworker hookups between people who barely speak to each other in the office, which made me feel like I was in a depressingly unsexy episode of Mad Men. I’m always torn between simply laughing or documenting these indiscretions for blackmail purposes, but  my fellow employees weren’t content to find love in hopeless places. One of my associates felt the need to intervene in a near girl fight in the bathroom over a misunderstanding of who was first in line. I don’t really know if her sense of decency  and civic duty is much stronger than mine or if she was really toasted and therefore empowered with a false sense of heroism. My first thoughts were I’m uninsured and I don’t know these hoes! I had no intentions of getting hit and messing up the face that I’m currently trying to make a living off of. You can’t buy cheek bones like this. Well you can but, anyway… (Who says actors are vain?)

After extricating myself from the would be perpetrators of girl-on-girl violence who were apparently doused in Britney Spears’ newest fragrance, I decided that it was time to depart. There’s only so much Rihanna one can be expected to endure in one sitting and escaping that den of fist pumping, cat fighting, and NSFW “ team building” was the only happy ending I had in mind.


Venue: 4 (It is the best of its kind.)

Alcohol Situation: N/A (I didn’t drink, but judging from the revelry I witnessed, I’d guess that saturation was sufficient to say the least.)

Actual Beneficial Networking Achieved:0

Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: 4

Atmosphere: #meh




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