The Superdive Diaries: In which a reader endeavors to see a midget pirate serving champagne

An EV Grieve reader decided to check out Superdive's new Champagne Tuesdays last night. This is the report.

I arrive at Superdive shortly after 10, eager to experience the
"cultural elitism and intellectual camaraderie" of its inaugural Champagne Tuesday. The cover strikes me as outrageous, until I realize the suggested donation at the Met is also $20, and Superdive boasts guys in white track suits humping the air with one leg off the ground while making a motorboat sound, which the Met most assuredly does not. I am eager to part with my $20.

The bar is filled with black and white balloons with ribbons. I can't see much but I'm sure everyone is dressed nicely and discussing philosophy. Then my world comes crashing down. I am denied entry due to the bar being "at capacity." I'm told to try back in 30 minutes, maybe an hour, but it does not sound promising. It seems less crowded than the grand opening, but there's nothing doing. I'm also told the bar will be closing early tonight, 12:30 at the latest. I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

I stand by, hoping for a break, or at least a chance to observe the makeup of the Champagne Tuesday crowd. A group of nine girls and two guys exit, mostly in work attire. One fellow kicks over something metallic sounding and states "I didn't do that." The crowd is happy-drunk, and well behaved. A woman in leather pants exits and gains admittance for one of her friends who had been waiting outside. It's clear I will not get in, and I retire up the block.