
Webutante Ball, Year Four
The scene outside Marquee, a 700-some capacity club on 10th Ave. and 26th, was dramatic. Three fire engines wailed, police cars pulling up behind them, beside a long line of well-heeled public relations professionals that snaked around the block. A middle-aged man carrying a brown sack was getting into it with the bouncer. “I was invited, and this asshole…” Never attempt to gain leverage with one bouncer by berating the bouncer next to him. He will never take your side. “Who do you think you fuckin’ are?” the guest asked, before he turned and performed a pissy walk north. Read More



