The Azure Rooftop Lounge sits atop a twelve-story luxury hotel, and because this is Cleveland, not Manhattan, those twelve stories get you a practically unadulterated view of the city and surrounding areas. Long after the open bar had closed at BuzzFeed’s “Red White and Blacklisted” RNC party last night, a fellow journalist pointed out a column of flame poking into the sky, far out toward the horizon. I’m not sure where it was coming from—an oil refinery, probably—but it felt like an appropriately cheap symbol for the night.

Hey are you looking for a fun new bar? Here is one.

Fancy nightlife establishments — when they're not using hand signals to secretly talk about you, they're doing it right in front of your face: with code words.

Ray Price, one of the great voices and storytellers of the Golden Age of country music, almost died over the weekend. His son, Clifton Ray Price, certainly believed that his father—who is 87 years old and is most certainly, and inevitably, dying of cancer—had passed away on Saturday. But after Price's wife angrily contradicted that report yesterday, the younger Price wrote on his dad's Facebook page that he had "been deceived by some cruel people" and that his dad was indeed "still hanging on." He's going to die, though. Soon. So listen to "Night Life," written by Price's old bass player Willie Nelson. It's the title track from the greatest concept record ever made, a louche, slightly slurred, lipstick-on-your-collar tour through the drunken disintegration of the middle-class American family.

Brooklyn Is Everywhere, And Everywhere Is Brooklyn:

America's hottest after-hours discotheque is Club Applebee's.

Your crush on Prince Harry is about to end. At a nightclub in Croatia, he was videotaped climbing onto a banquette and performing a catastrophic sideways shuffle dance, culminating in a loss of balance and a dive into the swimming pool behind him. Then he gets up, pulls the ol' "I totally meant to do that," dances his way to shore and climbs out, saggy denim butt dripping all the way. Apparently if he were not a prince of England, Harry would be an overgrown frat boy in the Meatpacking district. Good to know.

While Beyonce was announcing her pregnancy last night, little sister and hipster foil Solange Knowles was in a surrealist, possibly racist brawl with the Miami Beach police force. It all started when Solange tried to carry a five-foot inflatable banana into a nightclub.

An employee from a "top six publisher" forwarded us a grotesque work of inadvertent humor: Always Judge a Book by Its Cover, a proposed memoir by noxious narcissist and career slut-shamer Nik Richie, founder of TheDirty.com. Updated.

Bars exist for people to hang out with their friends, watch the game, unwind, and maybe play a game of pool or pick up a bit of strange for the evening. What bars are not for are all your silly games that are not only annoying, but dangerous. People are getting sued!

Midtown nightlife hellhole Lavo has become known for their celebrity bottle service and hard-partying weekend brunches. Now it's taking the tackiness to a whole new level: "Bikini Brunch". Yes, female patrons will be encouraged to wear the skimpiest item in their wardrobe while eating their omelets.

The Limelight Marketplace, the collection of high-end food, clothing and design booths in the building that once housed storied nightclub Limelight, is employing a new tactic. It's going to turn itself into one big department store. This was always just a bad idea.

Meatpacking District hellhole Tenjune, besides serving as a microcosm of all that's wrong with humanity, is also owned by a dude who possibly likes to jerk off in front of his employees — according to a lawsuit filed by four employees, that is. Mark Birnbaum, the club's co-owner, is facing allegations that he "[M]ade unwelcome sexual advances, requested sexual favors, and engaged in inappropriate and illegal verbal and physical conduct of a sexual nature with plaintiffs, all of whom are young female employees at the lounges." Classy.

If you were a young, attractive, in-the-know Manhattan homosexual in the past 15 years, you've probably—no, definitely—been to Beige, the popular, swanky Tuesday night Gay-list party. Hate to break it to you, boys, but it's closing.

After the recent unexpected death of its namesake founder, the new owners of Don Hill's closed the downtown nightlife institution for good on Monday night. Developers are going to turn it into a condo. Welcome to the new downtown Manhattan!

Two cocktail waitresses have filed suit against the Standard Hotel's Boom Boom Room alleging they were fired for being short. When you're half drunk, does it matter if the hottie bringing you another cocktail is 5-foot-4 or 6-foot-11? [NYDN, photo]

Check out the hot new trend sweeping posh Manhattan restaurants: Eating your meal, then running away before you pay the check! "Theft of service" was up 20 percent last year, and the people doing it weren't just poor jerks.

After hearing about Jason Hope's "amazing, star-studded" $500,000 Christmas party, we declared him Party King of Scottsdale. But wait—isn't Dan Quayle's airhead sex blogger of a son from Scottsdale? Let's see what Ben's bros have to say.

Going to nightclubs would be a lot more enjoyable if people knew how to behave properly. Follow these seven simple yet important rules and you'll make life easier for everyone.

The post-Richard Johnson era Page Six today has an item about Chinatown's Santos Party House being shut down over the "criminal sale or possession of controlled substances" inside the club. Too bad they ran a picture of the wrong guys!