Met up with a group of about ten friends within the smokey confines of Palm Tree who were debating where to go next: Le Prive or Firecracker? I have no idea how Firecracker popped up since I haven’t been to that club since the night it opened YEARS ago.
I remember that night well. It was after Jill’s birthday dinner at Ciudad, and some actor friends of ours told us to check it out. Although it’s located in Chinatown, Firecracker isn’t a Chinese club, because no Chinese person in his right mind would give his club a name that he couldn’t pronounce. Fie-yah-clac-kah. But then again, I remember someone telling me her Korean parents named her sister Delores. By the time the Delores was three months old, her parents were forced to change her name to the easily pronounceable Korean favorite, Susan.
(If you really want to give an Asian person fits, ask him or her to say, "Arbitrarily." Half of the time, they end up swallowing their own tongue.)
So about a handful of us ended up at Fie-yah-clac-kah, which hasn’t changed a bit all these years, except the stench of ganga – which made virtuous Jill puke the last time we were here – was absent. The healthy-sized crowd’s the same as well. About a third Asian, a third black, and a third white. Quite a few were of the knit cap and Puma sneaks variety. T, with his corporate blue dress shirt and slacks, stuck out like a sore Yuppy thumb.
In the end, I did appreciate the hip-hop upstairs, the live jazz downstairs, and the mellow atmosphere all-around ... although the lack of scantily clad hotties did lower the joint’s rating a few notches. But that brings up another good thing about the place, cheap liquor - something that's in rare quantity these days. In fact, when the bartender told me my first round of drinks was $25, I gave her fifty bucks and walked away, thinking she must've meant $45. Luckily for my dumb - and apparently deaf - self, the bartender was kind enough to call me back and give me the proper change.
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