So, we decided to go to a theme restaurant… and we ran smack-dab into a cosmetologist convention. Did you ever notice that cosmetologists often have the scariest hair? Why is that? Granted, this group was from Ohio or Idaho or Iowa, and they were still sporting the hair helmets and the rouge bombs. We, of course, had to pretend we were from some state that started with an “I” or an “O” just to fit in. While sitting at the giant, guitar-shaped bar, we hobnobbed with the chin-pierced bartender about the hotspots in town. “Where’s the Eiffel Tower?” asked a friend. “I heard the Sears Tower is really tall. Do they have tours to the top?” I politely questioned. “I want to go on a donkey ride in Central Park. What street can I catch one of them toboggans at?” asked another. The bartender’s chinspike waggled as he politely told us that those things didn’t exist in New York, and that we might be better off in Paris, Chicago or backass Mexico, but he tolerated us quite nicely. The space itself is quite odd, and certainly wasn’t a restaurant in its original incarnation. The memorabilia is also quite lame. This is definitely not somewhere to which we’re going to rush back, but there is always the allure of Alec John Such’s bass guitar. [MF]
221 W 57th St.
