Lower East Side Bar Crawl
Usually, I take a Friday night off unless I've got plans with a buddy or a date lined up. But this past Friday, I polished off a Chipotle steak bowl big enough to feed an elephant. I was not feeling up for solo TV binges or joint hits tonight, I decided to hit up the Lower East Side for the first time since graduating from NYU last year.
I swung by The Library, a spot known for its cheap drinks and cool graffiti vibe, but it was dead quiet – more like a library for the silently inclined rather than a bar for tequila shots and Tecta with a lime. I rolled my power chair across the street to The Mercury Lounge just in time to catch the end of a funk and hip-hop set by a band called Juice Band. Turns out, everyone there seemed to know each other from college or were family in town. I chatted with one of the band members about music influences like Jimi Hendrix and Kendrick Lamar. It was a quick pit stop, about an hour long.
Next on my agenda was meeting some friends at Cherry Tavern, a short walk and an even quicker wheelchair roll away. When I got there, I spotted a big blue wheelchair sign indicating accessibility. I asked the bouncer and part-owner if they could fetch the ramp for me. Their response? "Sorry, buddy, our ramp's busted – can't let you in." No apology or offer to make it right, just salesman vibes fearing a negative Yelp review. They couldn't even suggest another accessible bar, which was no surprise.
I rang up my buddies, told them what happened, and moved on. No way was I giving those jerks my business. So, I rolled over to Omar’s Kitchen and Rum Bar, a lively Caribbean joint with groovy roots reggae tunes bumping. I approached the bouncer outside, mid-conversation with a beautiful lady while he puffed away at his spliff. I love that mix of weed and tobacco smell, even if tobacco's a cancer stick – such a classic NYC scent! I asked him about accessibility, and he said, "Yeah, we're accessible, but only for outdoor seating – no ramp, sorry." This certainly left a bad taste in my mouth. How can you preach inclusivity and then shut me out?
All pissed off, I called up my mom, hoping she'd share my frustration – she's usually my biggest advocate. "Mom, can you believe it? Two bars, claiming to be accessible in the 'liberalist' city on earth, and neither had a damn ramp. They just smiled and said, 'Sorry, buddy.'" She listened, but it was 1:00 AM, and she needed her sleep. We'd talk more tomorrow. I chuckled – maybe not the best move to wake her, but in a city that never sleeps, it's easy to lose track of time.
With a couple of drinks in me, I decided I wasn't ending my night on a sour note. Full speed ahead in my chair, I stumbled upon a happening spot with a line out the door: Doc Holidays, an Oklahoma-themed bar blasting country music. I rolled in, smirking. Until things suddenly changed and the vibes got tense. The so called politically correct crowd – mostly Parsons and NYU types – eyed me like an alien with my big wheelchair. Back in undergrad, this happened a lot, but it hit home how strange people still are around disability in the 21st century.
Then, I met a conservative Mexican dude, an NYU grad from a decade back. We couldn't be more different politically – he was anti-abortion and anti-Israel, whereas I lean the other way. But he noticed how uncomfortable people were around me at the bar. "Hey, come over here," he said, buying me a round. "How 'bout a shot of whiskey?" I grinned, "Down for the whiskey, but grab me a Coke – can't do straight brown liquor." We spent the next two hours chatting and he gave me tips on chatting up girls.
No luck with the ladies that night, but having someone treat me like any other guy made it worthwhile. Too often, people assume a dude in a wheelchair must be either a creep or asexual. He reminded me that having a disability doesn't change basic desires.
We wrapped up the night at Heaven Can Wait, a bar where the manager instantly catered to my wheelchair despite the packed scene. I said goodbye to my new buddy, heading home with a smile. From the Conservative Mexican dude to the hipster owner rocking a bucket hat these are the people making NYC a more accessible and kind place. Don't forget your portable ramp on the Lower East Side – it's worth it! Thanks for reading
