It had been about 4 months since I transitioned to New York living. Now, you might be thinking, “Living in the Big Apple?! That sounds totally awesome!”
Allow me to introduce you to the charming, far away land known as Scarsdale. Here, the trees spread far and wide, covering the village in a sea of green. Beamer, Benz and Bentley isn’t just lyrics to a catchy rap song; it’s what everyone in town can be seen in, speeding along the long, narrow roads. Indoor swimming pools, private tennis courts and six car garages aren’t just something from MTV Cribs, nope, they’re your neighbors. Not to mention, it’s “rumored” that Jay-Z and Beyonce own a house minutes from where I stay.
So how is this a bad thing Jayne?
Let me assure you, being a native Philadelphian, it was more than culture shock. When you come from row homes, dive bars, close friends and a sense of community, Scarsdale left me feeling A LOT displaced. I couldn’t understand how people lived in a place where Pabst never existed. The madness! Where was the normalcy!
I eventually gained some courage and ventured into this strange land to explore. Surprisingly not too far away there is a respectable selection of pretty happening bars and more importantly, “shopping to be done”. While Scarsdale is nice in its own ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous’ way, it still didn’t give me that warm fuzzy Philly feeling. What I needed was a good party, some hipsters and a Pabst in my life!
Brooklyn is Philly’s twilight zone; A borough full of space age, Bluetooth streaming, boombox necklace wearing hipsters from the future. As strange as these techno-savvy hipsters were, I immediately had that “at home” feeling from the moment I stepped off the J-train. It’s always easier for me to relate to no lens glasses, plaid shirts and bikes a plenty than the lavish luxury of where I stayed.
My first night out on the town was no ordinary night in BK. I was on my way to the most amazing event ever, The Brooklyn Night Bazaar. A huge warehouse rented for what could only be described as an insane three ring hipsterific circus.
As I walked quickly up the street, anxious to see what was in store, I stopped dead in my tracks. A huge line of people wrapped around the building and down the street. “Jesus! Is that really the line for this thing?!” I thought, contemplating finding somewhere with less of a wait. As quickly as the idea came, it was dismissed. There was no way I could miss this thing, I’d come so far. There was no turning back.
The line was surprisingly speedy, and after a quick frisk by the bouncer, and a stamp certifying my ability to get smashed, I charged into the shit show. My senses were on overload. Sights, sounds, and smells invaded my system simultaneously. The warehouse was huge and warmly lit with multitudes of Christmas lights. There was no distinct separation of anything. Food and beer vendors were scattered between crafters and artists. A big stage loomed in the distance surrounded by a crowd, jamming to the concert that was also going on.
I managed to get a hold of myself and decided getting a beer, or seven, was always the right move when you had no idea what to do. I managed to spot a beer vendor a few booths down and quickly walked over. “Two Sierra Nevada Pale Ales, please,” I asked awkwardly, not really sure of what to get when no Pabst was available. After generously tipping to excuse my indecision, I decided there was no time like the present to really see what this was all about.
Bobbing and weaving between mass amounts of indie kids and hipsters was a skill I had mastered from many a night at The Barbary. It was about precise lateral movements and carefully balancing double fisted beverages. After some righteous exploring, I stopped to grab a pulled pork sandwich before continuing my journey. As delicious as it was, I scarfed down my pork, polished off what was left of my fourth beer and made my way to the other section of the building, the huge indoor sports arena.
As I crossed into the second half of the warehouse, a huge projection of something psychedelic adorned the far wall, lighting what appeared to be a concrete soccer field. Guys and girls alike scattered the floor in an all out every man for himself game of street soccer. Opposite this area were several ping pong tables set up with lines of people, eager for teams to lose so they could get in on the action. Next to the ping pong area, was a makeshift Bocce Ball court. I didn’t know much about what Bocce Ball was or why anyone would want to play it, but man, these guys weren’t messing around. They really knew how to hit some balls!
I played spectator for a bit more, before I decided it was time to call it a night. By this point I was pretty drunk and still had to make it out of glorious Brooklyn and back to Boringville in one piece. A hop, skip, and a jump later, I arrived home realizing my first solo adventure was a success. I managed to find a place that seemed a little more like home and less like another nation.
The bottom line:
The Brooklyn Night Bazaar is a kick-ass time. If you’re looking for all inclusive, good old fashioned fun with a twist, look no further. Whether date night, hanging with friends or just wandering out on your own, the Brooklyn Night Bazaar truly has something for everyone. If you’re into music, shopping, food, drinks and all around super rad events, I would strongly recommend checking this bad boy out. The best part is, this one of a kind event is hosted multiple times a year. Check out their website for more information, dates and locations.
The Brooklyn Night Bazaar