My friend is in musical theater and lives in NYC. She took us here to meet her friend from out of town, the wigmaster from a Dallas production of "Catch Me If You Can". This hotel is in the center of Times Square and a Petri dish for the obscure.
  1. I realize bar is the kind of place where middle-aged Midwestern men try to initiate extramarital affairs but then get nervous and leave
  2. For some reason, it seems as though everyone here is eating an iceberg lettuce salad, shredded carrots litter the carpet like autumn leaves
  3. There are no waiters, for this is a lawless domain. We are instead tended to by a bartendress with platinum hair and hard, Santa's coal-lined eyes
  4. The drinks here average $16. SIXTEEN DOLLARS. I could get a craft cocktail infused with imported jasmine and Marilyn Monroe's plasma for $16
  5. I spot a Pinot that's $13 and opt for that; bartendress instead charges me for the $18 Pinot. I don't say anything (see: "lawless domain")
  6. The decorator who likely conspired this place in the early 2000s surely meant well - but aioli now stains the lounge chairs and the throw pillows seem to be grimacing from the thousands of exhausted rumps that have smothered them
  7. Karlie Kloss's abdomen casts a pink light upon the bar
  8. Dads on vacation probably look at Karlie's abdomen and think, "This is a paradise city of sex"
  9. I try to commiserate about being at the Marriott Marquee Bar with a man sitting at the wigmaster's table. He replies, "This is what I love about New York: the people, the energy. We are at the center of the universe."