Britney Spears’ “Toxic” called to me like a siren song. After hitting up two bars, Liz was ready to dance. Unfortunately, my go-to dj spot in the East Village had a line so we figured we would just walk around until we found someplace fun. “Follow that music,” I said and we walked in the direction of the beats. There wasn’t even a real sign on the door, but the small decal of a bird’s silouhette indicated we were at Blackbird.
The first room is a bit more low-key so you’ll see half the people sitting in booths. But just hang a left and you’ll find a second room with its own bar and the dj who attracted us in the first place. There is still a booth or two back here, but you won’t find anyone sitting in them. Everyone here favors standing while shaking their hips a bit. The prices are reasonable and the music was lifted right off my iPod, which means it went from pop to classic rock to motown.