Friday, August 17, 2007

G-spa did not hit the G-spot

How do you spell false grandiose…T R U M P. Okay Ali, Dave, and I met up with Fidel for one of his promotions at the Gansevoort hotel. This place is in the very swanky meat packing district and houses two equally posh clubs. The ‘Plunge’ is the roof top deck club (similar to the ghost bar at the Las Vegas Palms). ‘G-spa’ is the spa by day, club by night in the basement.

We had VIP bottle service down in G-spa. For all the hype surrounding the place it really was not great. Yes, it did have three Jacuzzis and private bungalows but when you boil it down, it was small, dark and smelled of chlorine. The Jacuzzis are just for show I guess because they had big signs above them saying they were for “aesthetic” purposes only. Talk about kill joy. I guess when the joint opened, Lindsay Lohan was down there and they hired a bunch of models to swim naked in the tubs.

Thanks to Fidel’s fine connections, we had a nice bungalow off to the side. He also ordered a bottle service for his guests. Guess what bottle they brought out….Trump Vodka! Ah ha ha ha. Will that man not stop until he has branded everything with his name? Anyway, the bottle was quite long and skinny (wonder if the design indented to overcompensate for any lacking in the manhood…giant phallic symbol)! Don’t get me wrong, the vodka was quality, I just cannot get over the logo.

From our vantage point, we were able to people watch. I noticed there were twice as many guys as girls there which is unusual because as a rule, a guy cannot get in without at least two girls on his arms. Well all the guys either looked sleazy or out of place. Yeah there were guys wandering around in print t-shirts and jeans. Granted I am sure it was $100 jeans and Armani Exchange t-shirt, but it felt like they just got lost on their way to their hotel room. Hey, if I had to wear a dress sans bra, then they better class it up. Dag.

After about two hours, I had my fill and was tired (some of us have to work in the morning). I jumped in a cab and headed uptown. When the cabbie dropped me off, he confessed he did not have any ones for change (he claims he has been breaking 20’s all night). I heard that the law requires cabbies to have change for 20’s at all times, but I have yet to enforce it. Luckily he offered to pay me back in quarters. Yeah quarters! I figured why not since I need to do laundry anyway. It is amazing how $4 worth of change can weigh down a purse. The little stinker snuck in a Canadian quarter though. Bastard, doesn’t he know it is worthless here…worthless! Maybe I’ll try it out in my washing machine anyway.

On a side note, I just read an article about the origins of my neighborhood, Hell’s Kitchen. Evidently in the 1860’s it was the home of the “Westies” gang made up of civil war veterans. They were known for so much violence that they play a major mark in the book “Gangs of New York” (later to become a movie). It was mostly inhabited by Irish and German immigrants until the 1950’s when the Puerto Ricans started to move in. I guess the rents were cheap there (same as today) and there was a mass influx of our favorite red-white-and-blue sporting friends. Tension and fighting (like daily knifing) was so prevalent, that they based the musical “West Side Story” on the neighborhood. Neat…not all the killing and stuff, but you know…

Evidently, with the addition of the Lincoln tunnel, they tore down a lot of the original buildings in the neighborhood. Bree actually lived in the last tenement building row left (east side of 9th Ave between 45 & 46). In the 1970’s and 1980’s the place was know for being run by the mob and again gangs. I guess one joint proudly displayed all the severed fingers from enemies behind the bar. The mob set up all sorts of prostitution and drug houses in the area but they were all closed down (said but not proven) when Giuliani moved in as mayor. Now they have toned it down with porn shops and peep shows. Maybe in another ten year, it will just be cinimax.


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