I'd alternately hoped and dreaded, in the way that one waits for the bloody denouement of a horror movie, the Techcrunch party in New York last night would be a charnelhouse. Bobblehead dolls of Michael Arrington, publisher of the tech news site, tortured the way only twisted Manhattanites know how. Dorks from the West Coast, puffed up with notional wealth, but paralysed by the sight of New York women, far off any scale of beauty that they've experienced at the campus cafeteria. But it rained last night, poured, apocalyptically. The slightly damp party report, and Nikola Tamindzic's inimitable photos, after the jump. Oh, and Michael Arrington, outside his natural environment. And hot Manhattan babes, coming in drenched from the rain.

LOCKHART STEELE, DEEP IN MANHATTAN'S CLUBLAND — A quick primer on the block of West 27th Street in Chelsea between 10th and 11th Avenues. Nightlife queen Amy Sacco opened the legendary club Bungalow 8 on it about a half-dozen years ago. Since then, most every other clubowner in the city has followed, making the street a teeming hive of velvet ropes, stiletto heels, and strippers (yeah, there's a Scores branch here). The giant flashing sign at the 10th Avenue end of the block says it all: USING FAKE ID IS A CRIME.

Bed, the venue of choice for TechCrunch's first formal NYC party, came to the block by way of South Beach. The idea of lounging on plush platforms probably made some kind of sense down there, but it never really caught on here. No matter, I noted, exploring the mostly-empty space upon arrival: the loungey bed area was given over to demo platforms from sponsor companies. The vibe echoed the words of one elevator-mate on the way in from the downpour outside: "We're doing podcast advertising!"

Hey, it's Michael Arrington! We've never met! We trade one-liners about TechCrunch and Lifehacker and Jason Calacanis and it's friendly! In that awkward it's-not-really-friendly way! Before we're on our third sentence, the groupies descend — "Your site rocks!" — and I'm back alone in the middle of the room. The air conditioning still isn't on.

Daniel Mauser, the one face in the crowd I recognize, walks over, visibly relieved (as am I) to have found someone to talk to. "Did you notice the soundtrack?" he asks. "Pink Floyd's Money." Five minutes later, he's gone home. Lucky bastard. (The venue, by the way, never got more than about half full. If you showed up, you got in.)

Not all bad. NetSuite's Zach Nelson has improbably opened a tab at the bar and encouraged us to use it, even though he's not (beer and wine were free, but this night called for the hard stuff). I talk to Arrington's new general manager, Jennifer Rice, who vamps for Nikola's camera.

A few minutes later, Dodgeball founder Dennis Crowley, a staple at New York City techie events, ambles in. (His Dodgeball check-in: "@Bed NY ! techcrunch nerd party.") We wonder where the other regular players at these type of thing are. What's the point of preening if potential acquirers like IAC's Michael Jackson and News Corp.'s Jeremy Phillips aren't there to see you? (Both men, by way of comparison, made it to a party on this very block two weeks earlier hosted by DailyCandy-for-frat-boys email newsletter Thrillist. Priorities, people.)

What else? Oh yeah, Pete Rojas of Engadget showed up sometime in the middle of it all, wearing one of his improbably cool t-shirts. "So, we have an opening now at Weblogs Inc.," he joked — but he's staying. Let slip that Calacanis has some stringent noncompetes in his contract.

Much later in the night — after Arrington stood on what might have been a bed and thanked the crowd and namechecked the fine companies making the evening possible and received his bobblehead doll — I ran into CondeNet's Steve Newhouse. We'd never met, but in the spirit of the evening, we agreed to grab lunch soon to discuss synergies. Something about Reddit! Hooray! And then it was back into the rain and strippers of West 27th Street, and on into the night.

Here's the full gallery, with bonus babes.

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