Thursday, July 3, 2008

Meet me at the club, it's goin' down...turf war at Rose Bar

bathroom wall at 1OAK


Last night I left the office at 6:48pm Eastern Standard Time. Momentous!!! 

Seriously, I was jumping down the street, a la Mary Tyler Moore. Not only that, but I have the day off today (Thursday), and it's July 4th (US Independence day, for my international readers) on Friday, so a four day weekend awaited me.  Unfortunately, however, my plans to sit on my butt and read all night, which seriously is my idea of fun - sometimes, were quickly dashed by - surprise surprise - none other than my annoying-as-all-hell roommate. 

Right on cue, Jason, a promoter/friend (the only promoter in NY I will party with, occasionally...and that is including the one I dated briefly...) calls me to see if I was interested in going to dinner and 1OAK later.  Upon inquiry as to who else would be in attendance, I find out two girls I know and like are joining, so off I go. Dinner was at Bocca (19th St. b/t Broadway & Park) - the pastas were pretty good, especially the lobster ravioli. Chunky lobster meat.  Dinners like this really amuse me, as all the other girls are full-time models who eat virtually nothing, leaving plenty of food for me. Sweet! 

Post-dinner, we pile into Rose Bar where the action goes down. For anyone reading this who does not live in NY, Rose Bar is probably the best bar in the city, at least in terms of decor. That is, unless there's another bar with a Picasso sprucing up the walls. And since I'm not the only one who thinks highly of it, it's kept really exclusive, although I am not sure if places like Rose Bar are exclusive because they're great or great because they are kept exclusive. (LOGISTICS - we were at the table directly in front of the fireplace.)  The place is relatively empty when we arrive, and aside from the tables of hot guys a few tables over, I am just enjoying the music, my lavender and cucumber fizz, not listening to my roommate, and the Keith Haring painting on the wall I'm facing. More people begin arriving and the place fills up. 

Then BAM!

Another group of models/hipsters/pretty-young-things arrive and take up the table on my left.  Two girls from this table, most definitely successful full-time models, come to our table to talk to Blake, Jason's friend.  Jason doesn't promote anymore (he's a full time fashion photographer now), but is still riled up. 

He tells me, "ChippingMademoiselle, you have NO IDEA the politics of this situation right now! You are so naive, but sh*t's going down!" 

Politics? Who the f- cares? I want another lavender and cucumber fizz, dammit, and keep 'em coming! Where's the cocktail waitress?! The bottle of Veuve is near empty! 

So apparently the turf war was such: who has the best girls (more famous models) at their table, and who can convince more girls to "switch sides" The Hendricks might have been going to my head because I thought this was all f-ing hilarious!! FYI I do not model. 

So Chris, this very sweet guy I met at Tenjune, a club, a few weeks ago, is part of this "enemy group." He texted me after we met, but sadly I responded, "Who is this? How did you get my number?!" - oops! But he models, and I have told myself to avoid male models at all costs - no offense. Anyway, Chris comes over to my table to chat, but before I could exchange two words with him, Jason taps me on the shoulder.

"CM, I know this seems ridiculous, but you're my homie and I reeeeeeally need this favor. Those promoters are pissed that their two best girls are at our table talking to Blake. So they sent that kid (Chris) over to talk to you. Pleeeeease can you just talk to him when we leave here. PLEASE, I am begging you."

Champagne is coming out of my nose at this point because I'm laughing so hard.  This is so high school! But fine, whatever.   

So I turn to Chris, "Chris, dude, my friend is buggin' out.  He forgot he's not a promoter anymore. Let's talk to later, k?" Smile. 

Chris is obviously a very nice guy. Cute too, actually...he winks and goes back to the enemy table.  

Bridgette, one of girls at my table, tells me that she knows the promoters next to us. Yet, because she is at another table, they refuse to acknowledge her existence when she says hi!! But had she not been with a group of models, they would have been very, "Oh, hi dAHrling" with her.

Hahaha...calm down people!  But whatever, the music and drinks were great. Bridgette and Alaina are fun, and have good senses of humor.  The other girls are nice too, although I can't really talk to them.  On to 1OAK (a club, one of the newest "good" places in the city), where they were celebrating Independence Day with red, white, and blue balloons, fire eaters, scantily clad women in Uncle Sam outfits walking on stilts.  If I were American, I'd be so proud...


guys juggling/eating fire


dancers on stilts

Future posts: why Chilean sea bass will stay on the menu at BONDST, dating misadventures, street photos, and nutrition

2 comments:

Stanley D. said...

What happened to the 250 Word Count. - 844

-S

CM said...

The ridiculousness of the situation described, as well as the fact I was writing after sleeping for 3 hours, required those extra 594 words.