Laser lights play on sheer white curtains and killer hip-hop jams pulsate through the air at The City. The curtains separate the club-land hoi polloi (the bottle serviced) from those of us who have to throw elbows at the bar just to get a drink. The beautiful people who want to be seen lounge on an elevated reserved level, replete with leather couches and low-slung tables, or shake it front and center by the DJ booth. The prices are stiff ($8 vodka Red Bulls? Does this look like Brooklyn?) but the pours are even stiffer.