AFTER THE RIOTS: TAKING STOCK OF THE CITY : Post-Curfew Revelers Reclaim the Night : Weekend: From comedy clubs to jazz joints, movie houses to eateries, cooped-up Angelenos relish being out on the town.

“Like my new coat? Sharp, huh? Got a great deal too. Had to let it air out a bit--get that smoky smell out. . . .”

It was the first weekend in post-curfew Los Angeles, and comic George Lopez was doing the topical thing at the Laugh Factory on the Sunset Strip. The joke went over big in the early show--like a sigh of relief, Lopez said--and now a line of Angelenos was stretching around the corner, waiting to get in. Their city might be occupied by National Guard troops, that smoky odor might linger, but these people had come to laugh.

All over Los Angeles County, from the heart of urban turmoil to the suburbs, people who had been cooped up by a curfew the weekend before descended on restaurants and nightclubs to wine, dine, dance, laugh and groove away the tension. The Laugh Factory crowd included European-Angelenos, African-Angelenos, Latino-Angelenos, Asian-Angelenos, Arab-Angelenos, Whatever-Angelenos--just one battalion in a formidable army of revelers determined to reclaim the night.

Sheryl McCaskill, 29, confronted post-riot L.A in a skintight red mini and stiletto heels as she waited in line at Little J’s, a dance club near downtown. “We’ve been stuck up in the house for too long,” she declared. “Now it’s time for us to get some air and party down.”

Rockers in black leather hit the Roxbury in West Hollywood, and film buffs suffering from cabin fever queued up for the Saturday night preview of the new Tom Cruise movie in Hollywood. Meanwhile, jazz bassist John B. Williams was strumming at Marla’s in the Crenshaw district and the Spago crowd included Tony Curtis, Carol Channing and Mickey Dolenz. You remember Mickey: Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees. . . .”

“I need a good laugh. It’s been too serious,” said 26-year-old Arnold Esqueda, waiting with friends Serena Fujioka and Mary Park to get into the Laugh Factory.

Last week, Park said, was “very scary. . . . My grandmother lives in Koreatown.” But all of her relatives were fine, so on this night Park was all smiles.

Not that everyone was ready to have fun. Kevin Garnier, a 27-year-old teacher, comic and Laugh Factory doorman, didn’t care for gallows humor about the fury that devastated much of his South L.A. neighborhood.

“You have to be removed from the situation to find the humor in it,” said Garnier, who had been unable to withdraw money from the bank during the week because his branch had been burned down. “It’s like, damn, there’s nothing funny yet.”

But Sheryl Yerby, like Garnier an African-American, said it felt “great” to be out at a comedy club with friends. “Last week was my birthday and I didn’t get to celebrate,” she said. “I’m sweet 16.”

Across town at Little J’s, Kasandra Kimberly, a 22-year-old senior at Cal Poly Pomona who was also dressed to thrill, said this night out had a special purpose: “I think it’s more focused on unification. Tonight is a party not so much to get away from it all, but to get back to our normal lives.”

That seemed to sum up the feelings of many night-lifers. Not everyone was blithe; the nerves were palpable at many hot spots, and at some places business was downright slow. Still, it was good just to get out, people agreed. Good to feel something besides anger, horror, sadness, guilt and bewilderment.

“I mean it is Saturday night,” said Erik Felix, 27, of Canoga Park, part of a sold-out crowd at the Cinerama Dome for a special showing of the new Tom Cruise movie, “Far and Away.” “Life has to go on. You can’t dwell on these things to the point you can’t do anything.”

Lori Goldklang, 27, a Sherman Oaks resident who said she spends most Saturday nights in movie houses, said she felt trapped at home. “It’s nice to get out again, that’s for sure.”

“It didn’t matter where I went or who I was with, as long as I went out,” said Denise Garcia, 25, a customer looking for relaxation Saturday night at Blak : Bloo, a bar and nightclub in Hollywood.

At Menage in Old Pasadena, dozens of dancers, mostly African-Angelenos, crowded the floor. “How many of you all are trying to forget the times?” the disc jockey screamed out above the throbbing beat. Dancers raised their hands and cheered loudly.

A few windows were broken in Old Pasadena during the turmoil, but on this night the sidewalks that were virtually deserted a week ago were crowded.

“A lot of people got bottled up and stressed out last week, and they want to relax,” said Evan Liss, a bouncer at Q’s Billiard Club. Only 80 patrons showed up all a week ago Saturday; this Friday, though, more than 210 people had packed in during the first hour of business.

But despite the festive mood of relief, many people said they sensed subtle changes on the streets. Some blacks said they were being treated with more courtesy. Some whites said they felt very much more on guard, more inclined to look over their shoulders.

“Outwardly, there’s not that much of a difference of how things were before, but I think there’s still a lot of tension. I think people still feel real cautious--that’s how I feel,” said Kevin Yoder, 27, a white plumber from Monrovia who was shooting pool with friends at Q’s. “It’s an awareness . . . there is a difference now.”

Kevin Owens, a 26-year-old black stockbroker, said things felt pretty normal. But then he added: “I was driving today, and a white dude, he looked at me and waved, and said, ‘Hi’ and ‘After you.’ It was weird.”

Business was slow at some spots. The bar at Spago was vacant at 10:30 p.m. Friday and trendy Melrose Avenue was unusually quiet. Traffic moved along effortlessly throughout the evening, and sidewalks usually jammed with people watchers and late-night shoppers were empty of all but a few couples holding hands.

But there was no doubt that life was returning to normal at trendy dance clubs, bohemian coffeehouses and dining establishments.

Roxbury manager John Long happily reported “a lot of energized people spending a lot of money and drinking a lot.”

Several San Fernando Valley restaurants said business was also slower in the Valley on Friday night.

“It’s slower than usual for a Friday, but it was extremely busy during the week,” said Peggy Paola, manager at La Frite Cafe in Woodland Hills. “People got cooped up last weekend, and it was crazy this week,” she said, but it had slowed down by Friday.

Most restaurant and nightclub patrons said they had not given last weekend’s curfew a second thought while making weekend plans. But they admitted it had cramped their style.

“I felt like I was in prison,” June Mouer of Woodland Hills said of the curfew while she dined on a pasta dish at La Frite Cafe.

Meanwhile, Catch-One, a gay dance club on Pico Boulevard near Crenshaw, drew a big crowd.

“I am out here to relieve some of this tension and just dance, dance, dance! “ said Chris Walters, 30. “I am here to support my community and party like I just don’t care.”

Just a figure of speech. People do care, said 42-year-old Sir Marshall, a Catch-One DJ.

“Tonight is special because it is a time of healing and everyone coming together,” Marshall said. “Music is a language that we can all understand, a language of healing. And believe me, I plan on making everyone as happy as I possibly can with my music tonight to help them relieve some tension.”

Over at Marla’s Jazz Supper Club, bassist Williams was launching the first of regular Friday night jam sessions, hoping to revive the struggling club owned by actress Marla Gibbs, as well as the cultural life of the damaged community.

“I want to be part of the solution,” said Williams, who plays in the band of Arsenio Hall’s TV show. The audience at the supper club Friday night was small, but Williams predicted that many top musicians will lend their talents to the cause.

“I think many people want to help out in any way they can,” Williams said as Billie Holiday sang mournfully on tape in the background.

“Oh, we’re going to pull it off. We’re going to pull it off.”

Times staff writers Lorna Fernandes, Amy Louise Kazmin, Kim Kowsky, Josh Meyer, Lisa Omphroy, Dennis Romero and Lonnie White contributed to this report.