Snuggled secretly beneath a hot dog shop on Astor Place, e and I discovered  a TOP SECRET COCKTAIL BAR duely titled Please Don’t Tell. (So I WON’T tell you exactly where *.) First you must step into the magical phone booth and dial the secret number. Then the secret door opens and they judge you, make their decision, and let you in, tell you they’re full, or tell you to come back at a certain time and they’ll have a special table just for YOU. Once inside, the music is perfect, the ice cubes are giant orbs, the bartenders are devestatingly attractive, and your cocktail is made with aloe and honey and lime. Erin’s, with maple and bacon vodka. I’ve never really been much one for going places where you have to wait to get in, but last night , we felt like stars (because we are.)

* Google it. Duh.