In 2014, on the Highline, directly underneath the Standard Hotel, was an art installation consisting of 3 bodega style refrigerators, with big glass doors, containing many multi-colored fresh pressed juice bottles, with strange labels listing their ingredient contents. Two such labels read “bottle service: wall street journal, windex, champagne, foreign currency, vodka, salmon roe, sea salt” and “minimum wage: mr. clean, money order, medical scrubs, french fries, toilet paper, phone card, latex gloves, pennies,” respectively. The artist’s name was Josh Kline and the name of the piece was titled “Skittles.” The Winnie’s smoothie would be something like: “half pack of cigarettes, two bumps cocaine, $5 dollar bill, four small square pieces of paper, tequila shot, golf pencil, Juul pod, half can Asahi, lime wedge garnish.” The blended up, murky concoction should then be poured into a neon green plastic bottle and split five ways between yourself, two close friends, and two complete strangers you’ve only met because they also know the words to Sisqó’s “Thong Song.”
I have had some proud moments at Winnie’s and some not so, but am more willing to accept either fate there than at most other karaoke establishments. Recently, the owner of Winnie’s, Winnie, went through a cancellation of sorts for rudely directing a transwoman towards the men’s room with the point of a finger as she sat drinking at the end of the bar in a chair she seems to be occupying less lately than she used to. When asked, Winnie’s diverse staff responded, in kind, stating “Yeaaaahhh I mean it is bad but she’s an old Chinese woman who grew up in under Mao. She doesn’t really know about all that. She doesn’t even really speak English.” There is a proudly displayed photograph of Winnie with Bill Clinton above the antique cash register behind the bar.
Once, and with a high level of accuracy, my friend Will and I did an excellent rendition of OutKast’s “Bombs Over Baghdad.” We wondered how it was us two white guys from suburbs, in California and Texas, respectively, hadn’t known until then of each other's affinity for the fastest song on Stankonia (2000). The further into the song we so accurately sang, the more we began to feel ourselves. Until, a young Middle Eastern woman rose in protest informing us her friend is Iraqi and currently in attendance. She asked us who it was exactly we thought we were. Our friend Rishika rushed in between to liaise on our behalf. Thinking it better not to engage, and without any obvious valid argument to pose, and still having quite a bit more song left to rap, we maintained focus to finish at what I would estimate was 98% accuracy; were it Guitar Hero and taking into account a couple purposeful omissions. Afterwards, we reflected. We knew not the exact politics of Big Boy nor Andre 3000 but surely they weren’t in favor of the Gulf War, nor George Bush Sr. But surely the young woman didn’t know any of our’s either so perhaps it wouldn’t be in her interest to assume two strange white men from suburbs, in California and Texas, respectively, chanting into microphones “Bombs over Baghdad” didn’t mean it literally. The song did come out in 2000, a year before 9/11, and 3 years before Bush Jr. had our government lie to everyone so the west could re-invade Iraq, but, that being said, context is key.
Regardless of what key you sing in on the party lit stage floor of Winnie’s, regardless of what brand of cigs you smoke or variety of nose beers you partake of, regardless of which bathroom you use or table booth you throw your jackets onto, the only thing more cacophonous than a packed Winnie’s is the headache you will have the next day. Please return the mics after your song, don’t forget to tip your bartenders, $20 let’s you skip the line, and if there's something in the song you wouldn’t say in front of your HR rep then best not to say it into a microphone in front of thirty strangers regardless of how the Youtube karaoke lyrics read for Chief Keef’s “Don’t Like.”
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p.s. - Fun Fact! Winnie’s opened in 1987 and was originally on Bayard street, until 2015, when the landlord leased the store front to Mexican restaurant Lalito, booting Winnie. Lalito begat Lalo, which closed, and ultimately the address became Dr. Clark’s.