While on the cheapest date ever ($13 groupon at Crif Dogs worth $28 – aka a shit ton of hot dogs), a nearing-hobo-status looking man walked in and asked the lovely server to turn off the music and give him a flattened cardboard box. Is he going breakdance? I wondered. We put down our corn dogs and held off on our cheese fries for a minute, but nothing happened.
As we walked outside, we overheard the man tell the server that he was waiting for the cops who were inside eating hot dogs to leave before he would start. Knowing that might take a while, we decided to walk off the dogs.
Stuffed beyond comprehension and so unreasonably affected by our fullness, we popped into Momofuku Milk Bar and tried a boozey rum spiked Chocolate Covered Pretzel Shake. Sometimes you actually are in heaven. There is “cereal milk” (the crispy, crunchy, mushy milk at the bottom of your cereal) in it! But that wasn’t dessert.
After more delirious shuffling we found ourselves back in front of Crif Dogs and Super Bad Brad was rocking. This guy had funky soul written all over him. And his shirt! And his hair! And his glasses! And his swagger! Super Bad Brad is the original hipster. And the best entertainment on a Friday night in Williamsburg.
While Jon and I were dancing like silly fools in the middle of the sidewalk, I thought to myself, boy singing in front of all these people must be hard. Driggs Ave is a tiny stage for this class act; Super Bad Brad, who has a Wiki page, has performed at the legendary Apollo where he sang Let’s Get It On, and received a standing ovation.
Here is a short documentary about the life of Super Bad Brad, where he admits he has a crush on Bette Midler, maybe an obsession! I mean who doesn’t?