And the lord said to Noah, come with all your household into the ark, for I have seen you to be righteous (upright and in right standing) before me in this generation.” Genesis 8
Have you noticed the rain? We watched the lightning from the lobby entrance to the Rivington Hotel and counted 1 alligators, 2 alligators, 3 alligators, 4 in a super-scientific attempt to determine how far away the magnificent bolts were from my merry band of Sunday travelers. Then it was upon us, and I said to my flock, let us flee unto Spitzer’s and partake in friendly fare. So we went to Spitzer’s. I had the PBLT and the rest had salad. My arteries must be getting hard. The downpour came at us hard, and we huddled with the masses and drank and ate and waited and watched in wonder. Mother nature ain’t happy. The busboys tried to lower the windows, but it was a slow go, and the windswept rain wiped out the first two rows of diners. We got a little wet, but we were an intrepid band, and it washed away the sweat of shopping and strolling. I bought a cool hat at Still Life. The rain was traveling sideways in torrential sheets, thunder and lightning were right above us, and we didn’t have to count critters to understand that. It was a rain of biblical proportion, then it ended in sunlight — and then it happened again yesterday.
It’s been a seriously rainy last couple of months. It’s been cool too. I know, I know, I guess if my writing/designing career doesn’t work out, I could try to be a weatherman, but one has to seriously wonder if those scientists Al Gore’s using didn’t get their educations from that guy on TV who teaches you how to make money selling stuff on eBay. We joked of building a great ark and plotted to take two of every job in clubdom. Who would I save? I’m not taking into account breeders and non-breeders … doesn’t seem like Noah did either.
Owners? Well for sure I’d grab Eric Foss (Lit) and Paul Sevigny, who will, I’m sure, open something biblically amazing soon. I’d consider Eddie Dean if the wise judge rules favorably this week and the Pacha owner is still in business. I’m sure there would be considerable pressure to bring Noah Tepperberg because of he’s name-appropriate, and maybe the ship needs to actually make money. I’d ask Richie Akiva and Scott Sartiano, but it’s a boat and they’re jet-setters.
The door would be my boys Wass and Jon Lennon. No way they would have let mosquitoes and roaches in the first time around. For DJs, I’d go with Cassidy because who else would throw in a Dolly Parton tune; and I’d sacrifice a lamb to get Junior Vasquez because he makes me happy and will do the 40-day-and-40-night gig easy — he’s done gigs like that before. For bottle hosts, I’d grab Denise Robinson and Jayma Cordoso. I know, Jayma — you’re an owner now — but if you don’t want to get on the boat, let me know. You’re the best bottle host in town, and that owner slot is crowded.
For events, I’d ask Francis X. McHugh and Kevin Crawford. I’d bring Patrick Robinson and Julie Park to manage the whole thing — somebody’s got to get the bussers to sweep up. On security, it’s Luke Petit and Jeff Craig because I trust them. Waitrons: Lelanea Fulton and Ayana Frazier. It’s gonna be a 40-night excursion, and I’m gonna need a bunch of bottles with lots of smiles. These gals have great … smiles. The bartenders for real sure are Seamus Regan and Blaze. For promoter, hmmm, maybe we only need to bring one promoter. OK, if we have to bring two, it will be Kenny Kenny and Emma Cleary. I know, Emma, you’re an owner, but I really liked your Monday-night Femme Fatale party at Katra, and these days almost anyone can call themselves an owner. Nightlife blogger? Well since it’s obvious to anyone who knows me I have never had much interest in self-preservation, I’d opt for Rachelle of Guest of a Guest and Brittney of ChiChi212. I’d ask Scott Solis of Down by the Hipster, but I think he would be thrown overboard before we left port.