Pacha

Hell's Kitchen meets Ibiza—excuse us, "Ibitha"—with four neon-lit levels of barely legal, beat-thumping action. Humongous SoundFactory space retains top sound but gets refitted with visa-status Eurotrash-in-training crowd comparing passport stamps. Private entry if you seem important. Airport-like security making sure you have proper ID for access to Pachita, the top floor's ultra-exclusive VIP lounge. Smoke some of that skunky skunky with Kate, you wish. Get catatonic near the gyrating go-go girls.