Magic After Hours NYC is a unique and enchanting experience that takes place in the heart of New York City. This captivating event offers a one-of-a-kind evening filled with magic, mystery, and wonder. At Magic After Hours, guests are transported to a world where the impossible becomes possible. The event is held in a secret, speakeasy-style location, adding an air of exclusivity and intrigue. As attendees enter the venue, they are greeted by a magical atmosphere filled with dim lighting, vintage decor, and the faint sound of enchanting music. Throughout the evening, guests are treated to an extraordinary showcase of close-up magic performed by some of the most talented magicians in the world.
The session went how sessions go — some good waves, some bad waves, always clinging to the hope that something bigger or better was looming out the back. Nearly three hours into my surf, about the time you’d start looking for a wave in, I found the lump I’d spent all day searching for.
The tales told within the rock icons first new set of songs since 2005 speak to age and rage in a fashion that keeps them away from post-millennial blather or elder laments. A nice, sorrowful atmosphere is brewed in Opera, and trailing guitar notes lead the track through a very classic and familiar sort of feeling to it, which makes it sound like it could open for an 80s TV show but also doesn t make it stand out too much on the album.
Throughout the evening, guests are treated to an extraordinary showcase of close-up magic performed by some of the most talented magicians in the world. These skilled performers not only dazzle with their sleight of hand techniques but also engage and interact with the audience, creating an immersive and intimate experience. Magic After Hours NYC is not your typical magic show.
Supernatural: The BeachGrit curse!
(Ed. note: In my rusty memory Rory Parker was always hurting himself and having surgery. Our Michael Kocher was killed by policemen. Now poor Michael Ciaramella is laid low. Do you believe in the supernatural? Could there possibly be a BeachGrit curse? And if yes, who conjured this dark force?)
The goal was to arrive at Marbella, a surf break forty-five minutes from our Playa Negra domicile, by first light. That meant a 4:45 wake-up and 5:15 departure.
A night of Cacique (a sugar cane liquor) and Snappa (a terrible drinking game) put us slightly behind schedule. Costa Rica will do that to you.
After an hour of waking up, then re-waking up my debilitated pals, the truck was packed and we were off.
To cut time, we took a local shortcut — one that involved weaving through cattle, romping over potholes and crossing a small river. The only obstacle we hadn’t accounted for was a fallen tree blocking our path.
By the time we’d encountered the natural roadblock, we were too far into the shortcut to head back. Fifteen minutes to Marbella through the tree, an hour if we were to turn around.
Our Nissan Navara fit just under the main trunk, but one of the core branches — a solid two feet in diameter and thirty in length — was directly in our path.
After short deliberation, a decision was made. We would move the thousand-pound piece of lumber in order to clear a path for our vehicle.
We got low, counted down from three and, PUUUUUSH!
A new idea; Two of us would lift while the others would drive the trunk forward with all of their body weight.
It worked, if slightly.
Each countdown resulted in an inch, maybe two inches of progress. A couple times when we lifted, the tree would swing back and we’d lose six inches all at once. Twenty minutes later, muddied and scraped from neck to heel, we’d moved the tree just enough to slip our 4×4 through the gap.
We laughed. We cried. We mocked the petty piece of lumber and were swiftly on our way.
As far as I was concerned, the day was already a success. A surf session would be great to wash off the dirt and sweat, but this tree endeavor had already achieved my daily entertainment quota.
With the morning commute behind us, we arrived at Playa Marbella to find clean, chest-high wedges breaking up and down the beach. Mesmerized by the sight, we pointed and squawked like amateur birdwatchers. Within minutes our feet were clean of mud and coated instead with Mr. Zog’s white goo.
The session went how sessions go — some good waves, some bad waves, always clinging to the hope that something bigger or better was looming out the back. Nearly three hours into my surf, about the time you’d start looking for a wave in, I found the lump I’d spent all day searching for.
Head high on take off, with a valley in the center and another hump forming down the line — the wave implored me to soar. If not implored me, then taunted me, in a ‘you won’t hit this, you pussy’ kind of way.
My friends were watching from out the back. I had no choice.
Launching off the lip, I felt my feet disconnect from the board momentarily, before regaining traction a foot closer to the nose. The air wasn’t exceptionally high, but I covered a decent amount ground and was set to land at the point of impact.
The initial landing was soft enough, but with the weight of the explosion from the crashing swell, I figured I’d be engulfed by whitewater and bucked from my board.
Turns out I was half right.
Rather than being overtaken by fluffy clouds and kindly deposited into the abyss, the explosion sent the nose of my board skyward, taking my front foot along with it. This pushed my front knee inward, toward the deck of my surfboard — a maneuver well outside my range of motion. I felt the sensations of a pop, then pain, then despair, in that order.
Still underwater, I knew something bad had happened. I remember thinking that I didn’t want to come up — not in a suicidal way, it’s just that breaching the surface meant facing the reality of a blown surf trip, if not something much worse.
I was able to hobble back to the car, but by the time we’d arrived home, I couldn’t put an ounce of my weight on my left foot. I couldn’t even straighten my leg.
My initial plan was to wait it out, to see if my knee would improve on its own. I spent the next 36 hours laid up in bed, occasionally hopping around the house to piss or get an ice pack. It didn’t help one bit, and I feared my knee could get worse without proper treatment.
The next day I saw an orthopedic surgeon (travel insurance FTW) who put me through X-rays and and MRI. Results showed a bone bruise, a sprained MCL and a nearly-severed ACL.
Might need surgery, he told me, might not. Said I should rehab it for a week then see a specialist in the States.
I’ve learned that surgery would put me out of the water for four months, but I wouldn’t be at 100% for at least seven.
If no surgery, it’s anyone’s guess how long the recovery will take, but it’ll be at least a few months until my knee is strong enough to withstand legitimate athletic activity.
So, that’s my current reality. No more surfing, no more traveling, no more bees, and definitely no Namibia for the foreseeable future.
Oh, and to top it all off, I have to move all my shit into a new house by the end of this month.
And to think a tree was once my biggest problem.
Zach Weisberg is that you? Morgan Williamson you too?
To cut time, we took a local shortcut — one that involved weaving through cattle, romping over potholes and crossing a small river. The only obstacle we hadn’t accounted for was a fallen tree blocking our path.
It goes beyond the traditional stage performances and brings magic up close and personal. Guests have the opportunity to witness impossible feats happening right before their eyes, leaving them in awe and disbelief. One of the highlights of the event is the opportunity for guests to participate in the magic themselves. Magicians often invite attendees to assist with tricks, making them an integral part of the performance and creating a sense of wonder and excitement. In addition to the enchanting magic performances, Magic After Hours NYC also offers a carefully curated selection of food and drinks. Attendees can indulge in delicious cocktails and culinary delights as they immerse themselves in the mystical ambiance of the event. Magic After Hours NYC is an experience that transcends the boundaries of reality and invites guests into a world of wonder. It is a captivating evening that leaves attendees with lasting memories and a newfound appreciation for the art of magic. Whether you are a fan of magic or simply looking for a unique and extraordinary night out, this event is sure to leave you spellbound..
Reviews for "Escape to the Magic of NYC After Hours: Exploring the City's Night Owl Lifestyle"
1. Jennifer - 1 star
I had high hopes for Magic After Hours NYC based on the reviews I read online, but I was extremely disappointed with my experience. The magician's tricks were not impressive at all and lacked any kind of wow factor. The show felt more like a series of poorly executed card tricks and cheesy jokes. Additionally, the venue was overcrowded and uncomfortable, making it difficult to enjoy the show. I would not recommend this show to anyone looking for a memorable and entertaining magic experience.
2. Mike - 2 stars
As a fan of magic shows, I was excited to attend Magic After Hours NYC but unfortunately, it fell short of my expectations. The magician seemed unprepared and fumbled through several tricks, which made the whole experience underwhelming. The pacing of the show was also off, with long pauses in between tricks that killed the momentum. The overall atmosphere was lackluster and the venue felt quite run-down. I left feeling dissatisfied and wouldn't visit again.
3. Emily - 2 stars
My friends and I decided to check out Magic After Hours NYC for a fun night out, but we left feeling quite disappointed. While the magician had a few impressive tricks, the majority of the performance was lackluster. The jokes were cheesy and not funny, and the magician's interactions with the audience felt forced. The overall show lacked cohesion and failed to capture our attention for the entire duration. I would recommend looking for other magic shows in the city that offer a more polished and captivating experience.