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When I found myself at Bonny's on Friday night irreparably sober and unavailable to the ladies, I decided to make the best of the experience by asking some regulars—and there were plenty of sightseers there to see what they'd been missing—where they'd go to get their drunken dancing fix. Results were mixed, but aside from one very confident reply that Danny's could offer everything Bonny's could, no one was sure. "Danny's is great, but it's not the same," one told me. "I guess I can't walk home from the Hideout," said another. "Bonny's for life," said another, who had "no fucking idea" where she'd go in coming weekends, just that it'd never be the bar that replaces Bonny's.
Anyway, things didn't seem so out of the ordinary on Friday besides the 40-minute-long line outside. We sang "Last Nite" in its entirety on the penultimate night, but that could happen any day, really, because that song is awesome. The one notable difference was on Instagram, which lit up with more than a few tributes, and some of the same old pics of shit-faced faces.
Below are a few photos tagged with Bonny's location that I nabbed from that hipster dance party of smartphone apps.
*Read these as square quotes, not something someone said, because I'm referring to the scary fact that the youths who'd go to Bonny's (like me) say things like "totes" when they talk.