You’ll see some awesome music, you’ll probably dance, you’ll "accidentally" be there 'til 4am, and you’ll probably make some questionable choices that require brunch the next day, whether it's Sunday or not.
Watching football all day, eating wings, then raging all Sunday night can't be a bad decision, right? Except it kind of is, though.
If you love the Meatpacking scene but aren’t so into the club scene, this is always a great option. That is until you realize you've spent about eight hours in one of those wooden booths up front and you’ve got cigarette voice and your shirt is covered in at least one vodka soda.