The Boardwalk Complex is the jewel of Erie nightlife, boasting four diverse venues in one location. The laid-back Boardwalk Bar plays host to casual hangouts with dartboards, jukeboxes, and flat-screen TVs, while the luxurious Dream Ultra Lounge swanks up the evening with sleek leather sofas, a mahogany bar, and an upper-crust dress code that keeps sandal-wearing gladiators in the arena where they belong. The Dream Nightclub proffers state-of-the-art dance space with a luminous bar, kaleidoscopic light show, and scorching music video projections. Venerate the sun gods of summer as you bask in the tiki torch glow of Coconut Joe’s outdoor deck and chow down on goodies from the grill. Your VIP entrance rushes you to the ruckus with expedited entry and covers two slices of toasty pizza and two drinks from standard domestic bottles and well liquor.
Now in their 86th season, the Harlem Globetrotters continue to entertain millions of parents, children, and general basketball admirers with a trademark blend of athletic precision and razzle-dazzle showmanship. For their 2012 world tour, a rotating roster of Globetrotter favourites takes to the hardwood each game, so spectators might spot Special K Daley sharing a behind-the-back pass with newcomer Jacob “Hops” Tucker, the 2011 College Slam Dunk champion whose 50-inch vertical leap cruelly dashed his dreams of working in a ceiling-fan store. The Globetrotters might also present a study in contrasts with five-foot-two Too Tall Hall and seven-foot-eight Paul "Tiny" Sturgess, the world's tallest professional basketball player.
The Grammy-winning trio Train freights a cargo of breezy melodies and poignant jams, satiating legions of fans on its 2011 tour. With intrinsically catchy beats and the crossover appeal of a bipartisan milkshake, Train's euphonic anthems bridge the gap between the hearts and brains of millions. Best known for Grammy-magnet singles such as “Hey, Soul Sister,” “Drops of Jupiter,” and “Calling All Angels,” Train’s grooves, combined with Patrick Monahan’s lilting vocals, stick in ears like relentless peanut butter, taking up brain space normally reserved for algebraic formulas and state capitols. During the gripping live show, devotees can expect sing-alongs from Train’s catalog of smashes, possibly sprinkled with cochleae candy from the band's upcoming album. Train even tickles diehard fans' other senses with its own brand of wine, Drops of Jupiter, fermented from astronauts' tears.