The VILLAGE IDIOT closing

[GMANN]

Has anyone ever been there ? Its pretty much the trashiest of the white trash bars. It has the lingering smell of puke when you walk in, saw dust on the floor, cute bartenders, cheap cheap beer, and the most bluegrass/country jukebox I've ever come across.

The bar was originally on 2nd Ave and 10 st many years ago but moved to 14th and 9th. The owner of the bar is Tom McNeil. This is the man who is basically the "grandfather" of Hogs N Hefers, Doc Hollidays, Red Rock, Coyote Ugly and others.

I was just wondering if anyone other than myself has been there before ? Place is ok if you like that sorta thing. Only other person other than myself and Lush that has been there was FN Moron. Supposedly its closing down at the end of Sept.

[Lush]

Hmmm I heard of this....I don't know where...oh yeah...you told me yesterday.

A sad sad day for people who like the smell of puke

[Keyser Soze]

i just poured a can of PBR on the floor for my homies down at the idiot.

[Lush]

Oh you mean beer flavored water? It's like propel with fizz

[Keyser Soze]

its poor mans champange

[Silera]

Originally posted by Keyser Soze
its poor mans champange

You seem to have had a few mimosas already today.

[Keyser Soze]

i prefer the bloody mary.

[GMANN]

This is an 800 word tribute to the Idiot by Eddie Goldman who hosts an internet show and a columnist....

I liked it.


" What do we make of reports that the Village Idiot, the Mount Olympus of Tommy McNeill's beer-drenched empire of three country music dive bars in Manhattan, is about to have its lease expire and not be renewed?

Turn down your Gretchen Wilson music for a moment, y'all, and raise your beers in tribute. Something historic is about to transpire.

There is an article in the New York Times of July 4 on the gentrification of the meatpacking district, in whose prime ribs currently sits the Village Idiot, at 14th Street near 9th Avenue. The article quotes some investor in one of that area's new, fancy-ass clubs as saying, "If you want to make money, buy property where the prostitutes and miscreants are, hold onto it for 15 years, and you'll make a fortune."

That's the problem, that the real miscreants are those who are trying to commercialize all of New York's culture and squeeze every last red cent, pence, yen, and euro out of it.

Try as they will, they can never gentrify those memories and experiences of the Village Idiot out of our hearts and minds.

A couple of years after it opened, I remember being introduced to the place by some friends who were world-class freestyle wrestlers (the real kind, dummy), but no longer go there. I remember being begged for a Village Idiot T-shirt by a friend from California who had never been there but had heard of it (I obliged and mailed her one). I remember seeing lots of cleavage on and behind the bar, and, better yet, when lucky and staying there long enough, the reasons why that bra collection is piled deeper than the oceans, higher than the stars above.

I remember learning to respect and love country music, as I did also at its West Side sister asylum, Yogi's. Cash was king, and I mean Johnny, and not only because they took no plastic.

I also remember when they used to have a fish tank next to another larger one filled with the "killer turtles." When the inhabitants of the first one were thrown into the latter, we saw first-hand the natural love among nature's creatures. And I remember a lot of stuff about which I just can't talk about.

But most of all I remember perhaps the best group of bartenders I ever will see, and I've been everywhere. They made everyone feel right at home, like they were years-long regulars, even if it was their first time in this bar or even any bar.

That many of these lovely girls are also still at Yogi's and McNeill's downtown dive, The Patriot, and will end up at other similar institutions, makes me not have to move to Amarillo or way down yonder on the Chattahoochee.

Drinking at the Idiot meant that you had a certain philosophy of life. You did not feel guilty spending as little on as much beer as you could, wearing as unfashionable and raggedy clothes as you had, reveling in as dilapidated a dive bar as was imaginable and yet still allowed to remain open. It was always Anti-Fashion Week at the Village Idiot, and it was not for Barbie Doll-types. And inflation meant that the pitchers of MGD went from five bucks to six.

You always felt part of the party, no matter your gender, age, ethnicity, species, planet of origin, or anything else. The reason: It was dedicated to that very American proposition that we are all entitled to the pursuit of fucking happiness, one pitcher or bottle of beer at a time.

You didn't have to be a redneck to know that we don't fit in with that white collar crowd. You didn't have to be a bumpkin to know all the words to every country music song. You didn't have to be a philosopher or historian to know that there was absolutely nothing disrespectful or anomalous in guzzling cheap, cold beer while watching the babes gyrate and disrobe on top of the bar while American flags served as the focal point of this dump's decor.

In fact, there was no better symbol of this raw and raunchy freedom than the red, white, and blue. The Declaration of Independence guarantees life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I doubt you could show me another country where having fun and being happy are as valued and as hallowed traditions.

Even if these miscreant real estate speculators, yuppies, and other parasites take over the whole damn meatpacking district, they cannot kill the culture which the Village Idiot represents. Yogi's seems to be packed with lots of meat most of the time. Business seems to be up at The Patriot. Places like Doc Holliday's are usually jammed. I'm sure there are some honky tonks which I haven't been in that are jumping as well.

So just remember: Subway maps are free, and unlimited Metrocards make the best deals for regular riders. I just hope they fixed the AC at Yogi's .... "

[HedCold]

i walked by it today and saw it said something about "virgin bartenders in bikinis"

classy

[GMANN]

When they need new help the sign usually reads : SHAMELESS SLUTS WANTED: NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY.


classier!