I have lost my Libation virginity
It is true. I have penetrated the cherry that is the velvet rope outside 137 Ludlow Street. As I told my friend Tiernan, much too defensively, "I didn't pick the place!". I was meeting Neil, my old college roommate who had flown up from North Carolina, and crew, and who was I to judge without having experienced it? (Okay, so I totally did judge the place before going there.) So there I was, in Libation on Saturday night.
It was as advertised - a little taste of uptown below Houston - and the space is not half bad, though the obvious railroad apartment influences or the "VIP"-only seating did not make for the most comfortable experience. Also, I observed frequent digital camera flashes, many sensible haircuts and a sing-along to Bon Jovi. Like I said, it was as advertised.
After Neil professed "This isn't my kind of crowd," and once Tiernan bought up his drink minimum, we crossed the street for the safety of The Living Room, and then the kimchi flavored goodness of Pushcart NYC. Ah, home again.
It was later made up for after meeting up with Neil and crew in West Village. To be honest, I don't remember much except a whirlwind tour of WVil and the Meatpacking District, but it was a probably a good sign that Maureen had to pick me up off the kitchen floor after we stumbled back. Well, she says she did. I don't remember this. She could be making this up. Also, she still hasn't given me an explanation for the ice cubes and the puddle of the blood in the bathub.
A woman I'll call Mary opened the door and told me she lived there... Mary said I was the 17th person to arrive. Shortly after, a man banged up the stairs, carrying a laundry basket of shoes. He was the 18th. We had identical subleases, which clearly stated how much we had given ($2,850) to Rita—who had never lived in this apartment.
Twenty people showed up that day and 13 more throughout the course of the week. We had all responded to the same uninformative Craigslist posting: "STUDIO APT TO RENT LOWER EAST SIDE MANHATTAN—BELOW HOUSTON." Mary was not particularly helpful or hostile, but explained the situation—"There's been a fraud," she said—then sent us to the police station.
Though to be clear, it's not about whether the media is critical of the Bush Administration or not. It's more about the press's insistence on missing the forest for the trees.
I'm curious to see exactly how effective these commercials are, when these 30-seconds spots seem to do more to alienate viewers than to appeal to them.