When he walked in, I thought he was lost. I expected him to say, "Excuse me, where's the Bowery Wine Company?"
But he didn't. He ordered a drink.
Did he lose a bet? People don't usually walk into the Mars Bar wearing yellow sneakers, green shirts, and pink sweaters draped over their shoulders.
A few people stared.
Trying to get my head around it, I've told this story to several people this past week. Their first reaction has usually been, "Seriously?" Someone asked me if the guy got his ass kicked. No. We're not in high school, though I often think I'm living in one on weekends. The thing is, we're so used to seeing entitled young professionals in the neighborhood, we hardly give it a second thought. It has been happening for years. Usually it's much more intrusive than someone simply having one drink and leaving. Somewhere last Friday, Bloomberg was likely smiling. It's still the city of his dreams, built in his likeness.
Everything is so watered down that even someone dressed like a dish of sherbet can walk into the Mars Bar. Nothing is sacred. Bloomy and the gold-mining developers have beaten the city into submission. They're vampires and they've drained the remaining drops of lifeblood from what was once the most vibrant, potent city anywhere.
But is it too late?
[Bloomy photo via]
