One Night in Sugar

Expectations are useful and unwanted. Expectations are adaptable, flexible, modifiable, and variable. They make one smarter. They make one stronger. They make defeats resemble victories. They make victories more substantial. How are expectations unwanted? Eventually, one’s moment occurs and expectations must be met…

For seven days, innuendo, rumor, and speculation swirled. Would Paris Hilton actually appear in Sugar Bar? I had complete confidence she would. Why was I so confident? Chris Corso, Mike Gallicchio, and Brian Swanson are not morons. They are not stupid. If Hilton’s appearance were merely a publicity stunt, forget figurative egg… Corso would be scraping omelet off of his face indefinitely…

With one hour remaining until Sugar Bar’s open, activity and energy were omnipresent. Whenever I am asked my favorite aspect of this website, I never hesitate… The hours prior to open and subsequent to close are my favorite… The bunnies and bunny chasers never witness these hours…. They never witness (unless they have worked in a venue) the hours of prepping or concluding a venue requires…

As drink slingers and servers placed bottles onto tables, security mentally prepared, and sound was checked, Gallicchio and Swanson paced with anticipation. Their demeanor and dialogue was an intricate mixture of accomplishment, cockiness, and nervous energy… Would Hilton produce the crowd? Would the crowd arrive earlier? Would the evening equal previous iconic escapades?

I know I’ve mentioned Swanson previously, but inevitably, he is an annotation when I discuss Corso and Gallicchio. Why is this? Corso and Gallicchio’s persona scream millionaire moguls… Swanson’s persona suggests your high school classmate, who always strode with assurance because he knew the proposition was not if, but when he would succeed. Corso and Gallicchio made nightlife in this city, but Swanson is equally relevant… He is the street credibility of the trio…

Approximately one hour into the evening, one of my previous questions was answered… The crowd maintained this city’s reputation for tardiness… On the sidewalk, Gallicchio prowled as if he were a Royal Bengal Tiger… His eyes were intense… His face was expressionless… By eleven p.m. on the night of Donnie Wahlberg’s appearance, Sugar Bar was crushed… By eleven p.m. on this night, one could dribbled a basketball comfortably through the venue…

Thankfully, Sugar Bar Promotions Superstar Whitney Allure rescued the opening hours… You would assume I would have one evening where I encounter the precocious pop tart and cannot construct a paragraph… I’ve known her less than two weeks… That evening was not this evening, as via her personality and scrumptious black and sequined dress, Whitney once again ensorcelled my attention…

Ensnaring my attention for the polar opposite reason was the casting session for Freaks & Beef that Sugar Bar was hosting… I know I’ve typed several scorching sentences about heifers and I promise I will type some more… But, I must cuddle another controversy and discuss the transvestite collection which was present this evening… I want to say this before you even type word one, let alone sentence one, of your e-mails… I have no objection to an alterative lifestyle…

However, transvestite is not an alternative lifestyle… Men wearing dresses (as several did this evening) or women wearing men’s clothing is not appropriate… Ken transforming himself into Barbie doesn’t make Ken a special subset of people worthy of equal rights… It makes him weird… Every moment the abhorrent green and gold dress wearing perversion crept near me this evening was a moment when I considered leaping from Sugar Bar’s balcony onto the dance floor…

I promised I would return to my favorite piñata and the heifers were prevalent amidst the platinum bunnies tonight… I realize every crowd cannot be composed solely of muffins and some evenings, an even equation is a victory… But, Sugar Bar’s crowds have crossed the sixty-forty parallel and are flirting with seventy-thirty… Is Sugar Bar the official venue for those who haven’t heard the words calorie count or can we correct this?

At approximately 12:30, I encountered Park Street Patio Promotions Superstar Tori Lioness, who informed me that Hilton would not be arriving until one a.m. Thirty seconds and less than fifteen steps after those words were spoken, I was walking the edge of the venue’s dance floor when Hilton strutted past me…

Dressed in royal blue with a matching headband and showcasing enough diamonds to purchase several sections of this city (as well as city center for the purpose of turning it into her dog’s new home), Hilton was escorted into the balcony by a phalanx of security that would have made any elected official in any state or city jealous… Six security personnel and a trio of police…

As Hilton ascended into the balcony, an anticipated and anxious throng followed (and was of course refused entrance into the balcony by security)… Moments subsequent, I encountered the throng personally when Avi Primetime, Shawn Money, and I sought our spots above the dance floor… Avi was in front of me with a hand on my shoulder… Shawn was behind me with a hand in my back… We squeezed our way through the clamoring hoard and after one moment of walking stairs arrived in Paris’ perch…

And allow me to state that the seconds I was squeezed through the clamoring hoard were completely worth it… Above the dance floor was an unequaled compilation of empire and platinum bunny perfection… Corso, Gallicchio, Swanson, Randy Haffey, Tori, Shawn, Avi, and Paris Hilton… I know I’ve compared this city’s nightlife with the circus, but that comparison was marginal until this evening… Above the dance floor, I was now part of the collection in the center ring…

Within ten minutes of my entrance into the balcony, Hilton assumed the microphone and spoke with her typical tandem of instigative playfulness… She then swallowed a shot, took pictures of the crowd on the floor, danced with her boyfriend (was anyone even noticing he was there), danced with herself, and sat atop the rail… With her back to the potential peril, Hilton appeared placid and provocative, openly flirting with those who could not garner entrance into her paradise…

If asked (and I don’t know this personally, but everything I’ve read suggests it), Hilton will tell you that she craves the camera and that she makes the cameras crave her… Both were true this evening… Her antics entranced and invited digital flashes and those digital flashes outnumbered the amount of people staring toward the balcony…

Amidst the crush of digital flashes, Corso approached and requested vindication… The conversation I will keep private, but the subtext was that Hilton had appeared, even though this city had doubted his ability to produce this result… I will retype what I told him and also twittered… Chris, I make it a point never to doubt the king…

As her night concluded, Hilton appeared dissimilar to the decadent debutante, who had entered the balcony only ninety minutes earlier… Seated upon a couch, her boyfriend’s arm around her, Hilton was withdrawn… She smoked a cigarette… She pressed her hands to her face… She appeared at multiple points to cry…

At approximately two a.m., Hilton surrounded herself with security and walked the stairs toward the exit… As she passed the balcony bar, the upstairs drink slinger snapped a pair of pictures and Hilton disappeared into the stairwell… Her hyped and hyperbole visit to this city concluded with only pictures as proof she was ever present…

In the exhilaration of their triumph, Corso, Gallicchio, and Swanson celebrated and conversed with clutches, as their venue was cleaned… Despite incomprehensible expectations, the trio once again, shut up and put their money where their mouth was… Today, the expectations will alter, as the trio shakes this conquest from their memories…