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.

Guess where? "Frattier than the frattiest frat party"

Eater has another reader report on the Greatest Shitshow of Them All, Superdive. Of course.

"I checked out the now imfamous Superdive last night, and I was blown away by the place. I paid $7 to mix my own drink (blacklable on ice, filled to the rim), was with a group that bought a keg, and smelled the aroma of weed. I can also say the place is frattier than the frattiest frat party imaginable, and was populated by about 90% business-casual clad iBanker types, and the plain-looking, done-up to the nines girls that follow them around. I have absolutely no idea how that place plans to stay open, there are potential liabilities EVERYWHERE (health violations, SLA, lawsuits, whatever). The place is a massive house of cards."

Previously on EV Grieve.

The Superdive Diaries

Reader Paul W. sent along the following report from this past Saturday on Avenue A:

Just walked past superdive. there were these schmucky "dudes" screaming at the top of their lungs and chanting something at the girl across the street on a bench at OST. one "dude" was wearing a us marine corps shirt and i literally saw him rip off his dog tags and howl. his other "dude" friend was wearing a full on white 70's track suit with white terrycloth headband and aviators. the room was otherwise empty and there was a kegerator near them. i walked past and felt the need to walk past again. on the second go around tracksuit dude was humping the air with one leg up off the floor while simultaneously doing the motorboat sound with his lips. it was about 4:15 pm.

i live [nearby] and needless to say, I'm terrified.

Previously on EV Grieve:
At Superdive (with new comments)