Rooftop Bars Will Always Disappoint You

Rooftop Bars Will Always Disappoint You

The sun’s out, baseball is back, and everyone’s regretting not going the gym enough this winter. It’s truly a magical time of year that brings forth my favorite seasonal activity of them all, outdoor drinking. No longer are we confined to the 4 walls of our local watering holes with sticky floors that are definitely not coated in puke and urine. We get to take our talents to the outside world where we can chainsmoke like it’s the 1960’s and cover up our drunken eyes with fresh a pair Ray Bans. If you are to run into me during this time of year I’ll be happier than a pig in shit 90% of the time. That other ten percent is reserved for when I run out of cigarettes.

One of the few drawbacks to outdoor drinking season is that some individuals consider it to be synonymous with the term rooftop bar season and use the two terms interchangeably. If you are one of these people then I apologize but you are simpleton and we probably can’t be friends. Nothing will kill my vibe quicker than some asshat suggesting that we go to one of these overhyped establishments because they just finished reading an article entitled. “Top 10 Rooftops In NYC That You Just HAAAVVVEE To Go To This Spring.” They want to give off the illusion that they’re apart of the finer things club. When in reality, they still just take advice from their Facebook timeline.

I do get why this time of year gives some people the urge to let their bougie flag fly. Millennial based TV and Movies have led them to believe a lie. If you disagree, tell me if this sounds familiar: The whole gang strolls up to a chic rooftop together to receive immediate service from an overly peppy bartender. They wander around aimlessly to find a conveniently open table that perfectly fits all 8 of them with room for more. From here they sip their cocktails and have meaningful life conversations about their jobs, friends, and love lives. It’s a fruitful and fulfilling bonding experience under the gaze of the stars and moonlight, shining upon their beautiful city on a perfect summer evening.

Well, I hate to break it to you, but that little sequence is full of shit.

Rooftop bars are essentially the new nightclubs for our generation. Let me break down how your night will actually go and you tell me if this sounds familiar. The lines wrap around the corner with admittance rules of 2-4 people at a time. There’s usually a hardass bouncer who chooses your fate based upon his mood and how many females are with you. Once you finally trek your way up the stairs, it’s assholes to elbows as you battle your way towards the bar. The crowd around said bar will bare a striking resemblance to a merch toss at a skatepark in the early 2000s (A la the cinematic masterpiece Grind) with the only difference being that the crowd is draped in Gingham button downs tucked into dark washed jeans. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

After waiting a solid 25 minutes to get a drink, you’ll continue to bob and weave through the crowd that has somehow doubled in size. You eventually find a place to stand in the corner because the hostess told you that the tables are for reservations only. Even though their website says no reservations. You’ll drink your $18 whiskey cocktail slowly because you dread going back towards the bar. With your head on a swivel, you periodically check your phone until you’re finally fed up and ask you friends “Wanna go somewhere else?” ….To which they will respond by fellating you in gratitude because you asked the question they didn’t have the balls to.

Before all you single guys come at me with the “But wait! What about all the hot chicks at rooftop bars! Chicks are sweet!” I agree with you, chicks are sweet. But let me break the news that your daddy hasn’t got the heart to. Those chicks want nothing to do with you, son. Similar to the aforementioned nightclub, the rooftop bar scene is hott people central. It doesn’t play kindly to those of us that have to rely on our personalities to get by in life. I’m a drunk 7 at best, but if you put me amongst NYC’s “beautiful people” they’ll just assume I’m a busboy. Not that I mind because of the tips they give me; everyone’s gotta have a side hustle.

That’s why this year I urge all of you tell your friends to get bent when they want you to be another sheep this summer. I fully encourage everyone you to scratch that outdoor drinking itch as the weather gets warmer. Host a BBQ, find a beer garden, or throw a few back during your softball game. Just don’t be a turd and stay off the roof.

Image via Shutterstock

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Kevin Caulfield

Chicago based stand up comedian. Writer. Idiot

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