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Thursday, May 28, 2009

Justice For Michael Musto



(image via papermag)

The purpose for ID checks at city nightlife establishments is to make sure that the guests are over 21. And we get that. We really do. But of late certain venues have taken the whole check ID thing waay too fucking far, veering into our comfort zone. The purpose is to keep out children, not to fuck with someone who is clearly a decade or so older than the designated legal drinking age. Oddly, even in the immediate aftermath of 911 things weren't this crazy. Since when is going to a party like visiting the Bloomberg headquarters? Even at private media events this blogger has witnessed members of the press turned away for not having either a current drivers license (how many subway-riding NYC residents have one? this is not Vermont!), or valid passports (just happen to be carrying it on me, let me whip it out, bouncer).

Twice over the past 6 months this blogger -- fucking goddam -- has been denied entrance to media events because we didn't have a drivers license or our passport at the ready. And it fucking sucks, man. Walk of shame -- the whole 9 yards, brother. This, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is naught else but stupid shit. We will no longer be silent. And, as it had to happen, this growing trend just happened to backfire bigtime (bound to happen), denying entry to none other than Michael Musto -- only the city's best nightlife columnist. From Musto:

"You have to believe me on this one, folks. If you don't, I can produce a witness!

"he other night, I went with a friend to XES, the low-rent but often amusing gay bar in the West 20s. I figured, 'It's somewhere to go and I've been there a million times and it'll be cozy and I can impress my friend with the VIP treatment I'll surely be accorded and maybe I'll get a free Diet Coke and...' So wrong!

"Some freakazoid was sitting outside on a stool, demanding to see my ID. I guess my puffy, 900-year old puss and hunched over posture weren't enough proof that I'm of drinking age. (And I don't even drink anyway!) I gamely produced an ID card, but it wasn't good enough for this little mastermind (who by the way had a thick foreign accent. Does he even have a green card?). He needed to see a drivers' license or Passport to prove that I'm not a teen! The fact that my picture is in the dictionary under "Methuselah" somehow offered him no solace.

"Defeated, my friend and I had to crawl away and go to another bar, where I didn't get VIP treatment, but at least I got in!"


This prompted "Tony," who runs the joint-in-question to answer in the comments section:

"OMG! I'm the -- shall we say over 40 -- bald guy who runs XES Lounge. And it is my fault. I put the fear of god in my employees about letting in or serving the under 21 crowd. But, in my defense, the city puts the fear of an "out of business' sign in me. I'm hopeful that we can show a little more common sense in the future without compromising safety. I propose a Michael Musto night at XES to make ammends. What do you say? By the way, in the words of Billy Crystal, 'You look mahvelous, darling!'"


Tail between his legs, the rat bastard. But the apology is offered ex post facto, douchebag. Why is it that it is only the amateurs that have this problem? There is no "ID check" at Paper magazine parties, and they have been flawlessly lubricating the city's best and brightest for over a decade, smoothly. And the lines move briskly because IDs are not being pored over by illiterate goons in leather jackets at the door. It's the fucking newbies on the scene, the goddam contenders that go overboard on security -- insecure? -- that generally fuck the whole shit up, ruin the vibe.

Hey! You! Stupid mook at the door! Dumb muscle! Your job is to keep the kids out and let us in. And we mean YOU: John Varvatos on the Bowery, Stanton Public and Steve Madden. I'm naming names, I will not be ignored(And .. thanks for letting me vent, fellas)

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