The Party's Over in the City for Now

City's social scene sputters in aftermath of attacks

By S. Mitra Kalita | STAFF WRITERS

September 16, 2001

They sipped chai and lattes at Cafe Pick Me Up, hoping the East Village coffee shop would live up to its name.

They gathered at neighborhood bars to see familiar faces over beers and vodka tonics.

And they rented movies that they hoped would make them smile and forget the replay of buildings collapsing.

But nobody could really forget.

On the first weekend after Tuesday's deadly terrorist attacks, New Yorkers took baby steps toward resuming their social lives. For much of the week, the streets of Manhattan and its surrounding boroughs have been deserted as businesses and streets stayed closed.

Still, those who ordered shrimp cocktails or sipped red wine Friday night did so with a pang of guilt. Could life really go on?

"The normalcy of it is what feels weird," said John Keitel, 23, an actor who lives in midtown. "This could be any Friday night. Then you look at the TV."

He and four friends kicked off their weekend at the Blue Water Grill, a popular seafood restaurant in Union Square. A television had been brought into the bar area so patrons could track the latest news.

Many tried not to, but found themselves fixated. "Everything else ends up seeming so trivial, you turn back to the news anyway," said Laurie Brown, 26, a manager for a theater production company.

Yet Friday evening started out solemnly as many stood along tree-lined residential streets and grimier commercial strips cupping candles in their hands. Others chose to cocoon, aided by videos and takeout food.

"It's all just to get away from the news," said Martha Bordon, an Astoria resident who searched Blockbuster for a comedy but settled on sci-fi. "Everyone pretty much wanted to stay home."

The city reflected that sentiment, with ample parking available and bars and nightclubs reporting low turnouts Friday.

"There's no fun," said John Kelly, owner of The Parlour bar on Manhattan's Upper West Side, where patrons had canceled parties and deejays. "It's all sadness."

Suddenly, it became easy to get a reservation at New York's ritzier restaurants. "We're rebuilding the book each night. The reservations in place prior to Tuesday don't mean much," said Alfred Portale, chef and co-owner of the Gotham Bar and Grill.

Nightspots such as Culture Club had prepared for a Friday night as usual. Three bouncers stood underneath the '80s dance club's signature Pac-Man sign, joined by no revelers. Clouds of smoke to the south perhaps explain why, on this night, the line didn't extend down the block. Strains of "Venus," Bananarama's 1986 hit, played as manager Kristen Erickson decided to close.

"No one came," she said apologetically.

Nearby, Club NV also remained closed, but a handful of locals still gathered at McGovern Bar on Spring Street. Despite being low on hard liquor and certain beers, bartenders said they reopened Friday to see each other and help New Yorkers grieve.

"I just wanted to be open in case people wanted to go somewhere," said Greg Harris, 27, a musician who bartends to pay the bills. "It's certainly not business as usual."

That's why Katrina Smith, 37, an osteopath, decided to meet a close friend at McGovern's. "It's a quiet bar," she said. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere disco dancing. This is the most I can tolerate."

Across town, over large mugs of steaming stuff at Cafe Pick Me Up, a trio of friends discussed the economy, dating and errands they had to run.

"I feel kind of like a jerk," said Regina Yunker, 28, a teacher. "I feel like I should be talking about the World Trade Center . . . But it's nice to have normalcy because we know everything will go on."