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 T'S
EARLY STILL, just after 10 p.m. On this Friday night, Viscaya
Lounge is just waking up. Right now, says Viscaya doorman Alex,
it's still "easy" to get into the lounge. Give him
a couple hours to "warm up," however-to get a feel
for the night's party-and he says if you're a no-name guy |
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out the place."
Alex still doesn't let him in. It's no use, even during this
"easy" hour. That's his job and his decision, explains
Alex. He handpicks every party. "It's crazy man,"
Mike says, eyeing the elusive unmarked doors. The lack of signs
and the
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without a bevy of better looking gals, it will be nigh impossible
to part the red ropes. Even so, he still stiff-arms early
bird "Mike." Dressed casually but, somehow, still
primly-in jeans and a Yankees jacket-Mike tries to talk his
way into the club.
Alex
tells him that he'd have to buy at least two bottles of $200
liquor, a proposition
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fully roped-off entrance makes it "seem like a VIP place,"
one that he'd like to see from the inside, Mike says.
"I've
got over four thousand dollars in my pocket," he adds.
"Two bottles they want. I told them I'll buy one, and
I don't even drink." He expects to visit three or four
clubs tonight but apparently not
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| Ron
looks on as Alex denies Mike entrance to Viscaya.
PHOTO:
Lane Johnson |
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that
would surely turn away the faint of heart. Mike says he'll buy
one.
Alex doesn't budge. He tells Mike that he's let only two girls
in so far and that it's simply not worth Mike's money to stop
by. That's fine as well, Mike says. "I just want to check
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Viscaya. "Maybe the way I'm dressed . . ." he says.
Or perhaps, he suggests, it's the pesky reporter hovering around
with a camera. In the end, only Alex can say. |
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