Finally back in the Big City...

Finally back in the Big City and stopped by my favorite club north of the Mason Dixon. I found things to be better than I remembered in some regards, and not quite as good in others. We'll start with the positives: the spectre of Rudy Giuliani's "Disney-fication" may still be apparent on 42nd street, but not at Flash anymore. Dances are not up to Tampa or Dallas standards, mind you, but there's way more contact than there had been.

My main gripe (aside from the obscene drink prices, which simply have to be accepted as a necessary unpleasantry) is that there really wasn't any one girl who completely stunned me. This used to be almost a guarantee, and I am very willing to chalk it up to simple randomness that it didn't happen the two times I visited. But there are still tons of smoking hot chicks. I am only being so incredibly picky because this place conditions one to be so. When there's always been a girl you would sell your soul for, it strikes you when it doesn't happen. So it's the exception that proves the rule. Top-shelf eye candy that plays more than ever before.