The Snake

Though after-parties were outlawed fairly quickly at K’s, I got the okay to do whatever I wanted during regular hours, thus leading to the formation of a monthly dance party hosted by my friends Cheryl, Mallory and I. I had met the girls in London and shared some great clubbing experiences, and K’s was the perfect opportunity to try to re-create those parties. It was also the perfect excuse to make money, get drunk, DJ whatever music we wanted and party until 4AM.

Our first few attempts at the party were hugely successful—throughout the night, there were probably 300 people in and out of the bar, which was shocking for a place that only sold beer and wine. The parties had themes, from British Invasion to Nerds Sci-Fi to David Bowie (all of which were mostly reflections of the same general theme, anyway). Manhattanites trekked to Williamsburg for the first time in their lives for us. I also had backup to guard the bar while I hooked up with boys in the basement (yep, that happened). Things were looking up once more!

Unfortunately, with later weekend hours came the neighbors’ opposition. Though the parties were held on Saturday nights, apparently some people lived to complain, like the bitch upstairs (I forget her name, so we’ll name her Vanessa—sounds bitchy and snake-like, right?).

Vanessa was a full-of-herself singer/songwriter who performed at K’s once in a while. I could be mean and criticize her music to no end, but I’ll just leave it at the fact that she wasn’t very good at all. But that’s not what was wrong with her—she was also a snake of a woman.

Whatever was up her ass caused her to bitch about us constantly, ignoring the fact that she lived above a bar. Vanessa also had a boyfriend who did the dirty work of coming downstairs in the cold, barefoot, to tell us to turn the music down. On a Saturday. At 1AM. The poor guy was whipped.

Noise complaints are easy to deal with, for the most part—I was actually surprised that was all we got since there were usually people smoking weed in the backyard and lots of drunk people stumbling around, breaking glasses and puking. Anyway, I would explain to them that due to the large quantity of people at this party, it’s almost impossible to silence an entire room. If the party was over, I was glad to turn things down while the remaining people trickled out. Apparently that wasn’t enough for Vanessa, however.

Especially when she discovered the hole in her floor.

Imagine buckets of water falling from the ceiling onto the main stage near electrical equipment while people are performing live music—that’s enough to kill a party mood immediately. Luckily, the first incident oddly occurred during open mic night on a Wednesday, just a few days before the real party was to be held. Our first thought was that a pipe had busted, but a plumber came in the next day and even checked the apartment upstairs for leaks. It wasn’t until one of my bosses called the space’s previous owner that we learned there was a hole between our ceiling and the apartment’s floor above us. It was the bitch.

Apparently, the incident had happened years before when the bar first opened with another tenant living above. During busy nights, water would pour down onto unsuspecting guests. How Vanessa discovered the hole and decided to use the same tactic is beyond me, but somehow she did. It was officially war.

At the next party, sure enough, midway through the night, water came pouring down. Luckily, I was prepared and moved the stage—and the electrical equipment—out of the way. Water was quickly followed by Vanessa pounding on her floor, but Cheryl and Mallory were ready with brooms handles to pound the ceiling right back at her. Sure enough, around 3AM, her boyfriend then stumbled downstairs to meekly tell us to turn it down because Vanessa was trying to sleep. At that point, I was polite, since the guy just made me sad, but this process was repeated constantly throughout that year.

I know it’s horrible, but it was so fun to screw with Vanessa when we could. Finally, the bar had an enemy! She also played a prominent role in the bar’s ultimate fate in the months to follow, for better or for worse, but for that moment, it just gave my friends and I a reason to throw even more blowout parties—after all, the snake knew she lived above a bar, and it was time we proved it to her once and for all.