Tavern, Southampton: You'd think an old club trying to re-invent itself under a new owner would vacate the shit building, have a toilet inside, and lose the outdoor portapotty look. Oh, and sack the toothless portapotty attendant squirting my hands with knockoff hand sanitizer expecting a tip. Sorry chump, I only gots rolled up 100s. Other than that, the name of the game here is using big name djs like David Guetta (memorial day weekend) to fill the spot. But if this poor effort isn't ballin enough for you, perhaps the 3 lines to get in are: 1 for guys who were stupid enough to buy a 50 dollar entrance ticket just to wait on line for an hour; 2, a line for short skirts smuggling their fat girlfriend and/or gay guy in and 3, the bottle service stripey button down spikey hair orange colored mutants willing to pay 250 to get in ontop of the minimum 3 bottles at 300 a piece. Once your in, you have the pleasure of watching roided out Gweeds do there thing, and if that scenery sprinkled with 14 dolla drinks in plastic cups tickles your fancy then this, my friend, is the place for you.
Georgica, Bridgehampton: Now this, is the spizzot. The crowd is basically Murray Hill, just in the Hamptons. Not particually recession friendly, the drinks are atleast down to 12, and that includes topshelf. The real ace in the hole is the jams: a mix of 80s rock, hip hop and dance music. The girl to guy ratio is kept at about 2 to 1 by the senior citizen doorman (who grabbed my ass on the way in) and his 6'5 350 pound bouncer cohort. Tables are a standard 300 a bottle, but it's roomie so you aren't potentially catching the H1N1 from the Gweed doing his 2 step in your personal space. The only setback is that it turns into a lounge around 11. But as 1 AM rolls around, the place is all drunk 20-30 year olds - primarily 7s and 8s. In other words, get me the F back there asap.
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