Beautiful minds …
… not required.
So I have a favorite new bar in the city, and I love, love it. It’s amazing. Anyhow, on a Friday night a couple weeks back I was supposed to meet some friends at My New Favorite Bar. I was running late because one after-work drink turned into about 7 (in this market, barely a surprise), when I got a text from my friend saying there was a private party at the bar that night, but not to worry, they managed to secure my name at the door. However, she had one condition — I had to dress “se*y”. I obviously thought she was being funny, and told her to forget it and that I was just going to come in my work clothes, but then she called me and insisted in person. (With a slight giggle in her voice).
Fine.
So I show up, and instead of the usual dapper doorman alone, that night he was accompanied by a very attractive woman wielding a clipboard, checking off names with a huge smile. “Must be some party!” I thought to myself, and walked in. It didn’t seem too out of the ordinary at first, very attractive women, but this is New York. Then a woman walked by … her top ended below her breasts, which were totally bare, totally huge, and decorated with – er – strategically placed red stars. “Um. Where am I?” Then I looked around in a bit more detail. Lots of good looking women, lots of cleaving, and lots of giggling.
I finally met the organizer. The conversation went something like this:
Me: “Hi, so what is the deal with this party?”
She: “Well, like, we started it in LA and San Francisco and, like, it’s a Beautiful People party where, like, people are beautiful and they like to dress se*y and be se*y. It’s great, you’re se*y.”
Me: “Oh, that’s … interesting. How did you get the idea for it?”
She: “Well, like, my friends and I got sick of going to bars and meeting guys that just, like, wanted to sleep with us, and where people were not beautiful and se*y. So we decided to have our own party, where the girls are unpretentious and, like, open to alternative lifestyles and where they invite the guys, so you know they, like, don’t just want to just sleep with you.”
Brilliant! Have another martini, luv.
Just then, a friend of hers walked up and I overheard her saying “this party is the reason I work out for the rest of the year!” … I slowly dipped back and wandered off to take a bathroom break. (More for the break then the bathroom). Except I waited. And waited. Until two girls finally came out of the stall. Suddenly didn’t really have to go anymore. Walked back to my friends who were talking to a girl that kept falling on us. Literally. Falling on us. It was time to go. We politely thanked the organizer (who gave us guest passes for the next event) and walked out.
Premature, for sure (things were clearly just getting warmed up) but I am just-not-ready.
From there, we went to another new discovery on my part, the late-night, open 24-hour, China-town dive. Next to us was a couple that looked like they walked out of a white-snake video (no kidding, leather pants, long hair, and all). Two tables away sat an older, balding, slightly-overweight man, who just looked like he stopped by for a bite or 18 of msg, and next to him was a table of cops. The best part, covering all the walls were signed pictures of “celebrities”. Except none of us could recognize a single one.
It’s amazing. And they sell t-shirts.
Finally, decided to call it a night. The cab dropped me off at the end of my street at like 3am, and I had to navigate through a small crowd of about 7 people in full-out circus costumes, and a man … on 9ft stilts. WTF?
Yup. This is New York.
