Showing posts with label Rapture Cafe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rapture Cafe. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

[EVG Flashback] At Superdive

Originally posted on June 26, 2009...



Superdive opened last night at 200 Avenue A. (So it was Thursday the 25th after all!)

A reader sent me a fairly lengthy e-mail early this morning after a night out at Superdive. The reader started off by saying: "Maybe you can excerpt something useful from this, but I don't know. It just wasn't that interesting." We'll be the judge of that!

To the reader's e-mail:

Upon entering, confronted with a wall of noise. It's *incredibly* loud. You can't make anything out — total wall of noise.

Near the door are some mini kegs stuck in ice. By the window are guys filling mugs from a mini kegerator. Very fratty, all around. Fratty smell, especially.

We try to figure out the bar situation. Confusing. It looks like there is no bar and patrons are just doing whatever, but really there is a bar. It's just surrounded by patrons. We eventually get drinks. My mixed drink is quite strong. This is good, as it took an eternity to get it. It was served by a bartender wearing legwarmers on her arms. As we're trying to secure drinks, we're hit by a blast of flatulence. Did I mention this place is fratty? We get our drinks and head toward the front. The girls here are CUTE.

There is a live band in the back, playing under an enormous lit sign that reads APPLAUSE. The sign is always lit. I do not clap. There is a guy on piano, trying to sing over the noise, and he's accompanied by a drummer. They're playing "When a Man Loves a Woman."

There are plastic cups everywhere.

We go for another round of drinks. We ask how much, and the bartender says "Ummm.... 30?" as if we're bartering. We pay. It seems fair for the amount of drink we're walking away with.

A cringing girlfriend leading her man away from his friends.

A group of girls enter, high-fiving each other. They are cute.

A guy in a yellow shirt starts to lose composure, head in hands. He's had enough beer.

"Thriller" is played (the pianist/drummer are done now). There is cheering, dancing.

And that's about it. We get bored and go for pizza.

Friday, June 26, 2009

At Superdive



Superdive opened last night at 200 Avenue A. (So it was Thursday the 25th after all!)

A reader sent me a fairly lengthy e-mail early this morning after a night out at Superdive. The reader started off by saying: "Maybe you can excerpt something useful from this, but I don't know. It just wasn't that interesting." We'll be the judge of that!

To the reader's e-mail:

Upon entering, confronted with a wall of noise. It's *incredibly* loud. You can't make anything out — total wall of noise.

Near the door are some mini kegs stuck in ice. By the window are guys filling mugs from a mini kegerator. Very fratty, all around. Fratty smell, especially.

We try to figure out the bar situation. Confusing. It looks like there is no bar and patrons are just doing whatever, but really there is a bar. It's just surrounded by patrons. We eventually get drinks. My mixed drink is quite strong. This is good, as it took an eternity to get it. It was served by a bartender wearing legwarmers on her arms. As we're trying to secure drinks, we're hit by a blast of flatulence. Did I mention this place is fratty? We get our drinks and head toward the front. The girls here are CUTE.

There is a live band in the back, playing under an enormous lit sign that reads APPLAUSE. The sign is always lit. I do not clap. There is a guy on piano, trying to sing over the noise, and he's accompanied by a drummer. They're playing "When a Man Loves a Woman."

There are plastic cups everywhere.

We go for another round of drinks. We ask how much, and the bartender says "Ummm.... 30?" as if we're bartering. We pay. It seems fair for the amount of drink we're walking away with.

A cringing girlfriend leading her man away from his friends.

A group of girls enter, high-fiving each other. They are cute.

A guy in a yellow shirt starts to lose composure, head in hands. He's had enough beer.

"Thriller" is played (the pianist/drummer are done now). There is cheering, dancing.

And that's about it. We get bored and go for pizza.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

CB3 didn't approve a liquor license for Superdive; "a nice neighborhood Internet café-bookstore" becomes a bar with keg service at tables

In previous posts about Superdive, I wondered how the SLA/CB3 could have approved such a boozy concept (mix your own drinks, keg service at tables, etc.) ... Well, it turns out they didn't. Check out the minutes from the May meeting. (Item 4 below from the May 11 SLA meeting.)



The owners of Superdive were denied the renewal of a full on-premise liquor license (click on the image for a better view).... in part, because the owners "did not appear before Community Board #3" ... and "the location has been closed for several months." (Actually, Rapture Cafe & Books, the previous occupant here at 200 Avenue A, closed in April 2008)



Regardless, the State Liquor Authority has the final say in these matters. Meanwhile, according to the SLA Web site, Superdive has Rapture's existing license, which is effective through April 2011.



Rapture owner Joe Birdsong's name is on the SLA licensing information, operating as trade name Superdive. Birdsong was interviewed for a Dec. 28, 2006, article in the Observer about the cafe's opening:

Proprietor Joe Birdsong said the 2,200-square-foot space (formerly occupied by the Clockwork Orange-themed Korova Milk Bar)... is still awaiting his community-approved liquor license, which he hopes to receive once the State Liquor Authority's present moratorium on new licenses expires next month.

For now, patrons can sip coffee or tea as they browse the cafe's prerequisite bookshelves.

Mr. Birdsong, who, in order to some day sell alcohol, pledged to operate primarily as a bookstore, said he has, in fact, sold some books, particularly back on Christmas Day.


The Observer had more on Rapure on Jan. 7, 2007.

Rapture owner Joe Birdsong expects to receive his license to sling suds any day now, as the State Liquor Authority’s four-month-long freeze on processing such permits expired with the change in the calendar year.

The bohemian-style café’s entry into the booze business won’t technically exacerbate what many S.L.A. critics have denounced as a citywide proliferation of liquor licenses in recent years. Mr. Birdsong is simply taking the existing license from the location’s prior tenant, the Clockwork Orange–themed Korova Milk Bar. Keeping the license at that address was of particular concern to the building’s landlord, Mr. Birdsong said: "The owner doesn’t want to lose the value attached to it."

Not that Rapture’s ownership would choose to emphasize the alcoholic content of its business plan, penned by Mr. Birdsong. In fact, his proposal barely mentions the venue’s "extensive and unique beer and wine menu," even though his pending permit would grant him the freedom to serve Jägermeister shots or far stiffer drinks, if he wanted to. A wise strategy. Given the city’s current bar-wary climate, prospective restaurateurs and tavern operators are subject to an ever-increasing degree of scrutiny.

Even a self-described "nice little neighborhood Internet café–bookstore–performance space" is not immune, as Mr. Birdsong found out when he appeared this past September before local Community Board 3, a panel that specifically singled out Avenue A as a bad example of area bar sprawl. In order to garner community approval for his own "limited bar," Mr. Birdsong had to promise in writing that his proposed literary hangout would not someday morph into a troublesome, boozy nightspot.

Specifically, he was required to submit a "signed notarized stipulation" that Rapture would "operate as a bookstore with the service of alcoholic beverages incidental to its operation as a bookstore" and "with the predominant space being used for bookshelves," according to the minutes of that meeting.


Whoa. So, what just happened here?

Meanwhile, a few people were inside Superdive last night for what looked like a private party...