So Thursday started off innocently enough: gio and I, broke as jokes, decided to do something free. So we packed up our skinny asses on an M4 bus to the Cloisters. For those of you who may not know, the Cloisters is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum dedicated to medieval and Gothic art. An hour and a Harlem traverse later we arrived. It was a glorious spring afternoon now and the gardens were absolutely divine. My friend and Fendi coworker Andrea was in town from Rome and dying to go out with gio and I and vice versa. So while Gio was taking research inspiration pics for Nicole Miller's spring line, I was coordinating where Andrea could meet us. We decided on the ever-trusty Splash, seedy gay bar and Manhattan institution.

We stopped by gios house to have drink appetizers, the equivalent of stretching before a workout. After a few glasses of wine, we descended onto Splash, home of the 2for1 happy hour. Andrea, after alighting from a pedi cab (THE HORROR!!), joined us and my favorite bartender Mikey. A dick flick (poor mikey got a cheap thrill) and a few drinks later and we were ready to move on to bigger and better things, namely dinner. (Before we could say "table for 3" we got caught in the middle of a police parade of some 30 plus squad cars) But as luck would have it we ran into none other than our favorite doorman, Fabrizio all salt and pepper hair and dressed in classic napoltian' style in his dapper white suit! We asked him for nightlife advice and he suggested we go to the uber-exclusive, reservations-required Gramercy park hotel. We were skeptical we'd get in but with our alcoholic logic figured if worse came to worse we'd throw down the Fendi card and see what it got us.

We got to GPH and waltzed right in. Now let me explain what we looked like at this point in the evening: I was in a cowboy shirt, shorts and my gold sneakers. Gio was done up in a navy sweater and tattered jeans and Andrea in nothing more than a t shirt dress and black patent leather Lanvin jacket. Unsure of where to go we ducked into the elevators were the elevator conductor asked us "What floor?". After a brief pause he assumed "penthouse?" To which we promptly replied "sure".

The elevator doors opened to a sea of men in suits (no not hot finance guys in suits): apparently we had unceremoniously barged in on a private CW network event. Again using our alcoholic logic, we made a beeline for the bar, which we found with NO problem. And seeing as how it was a network/networking event, we decided to mingle so as not to stick out like bohemian sore thumbs. Charming as all hell, we caught the gimlet eye of one of the network execs who immediately knew we weren't invited but dissimulated any knowledge of that. Enthralled by our unassailable good looks and Holly Golightly brio, Mr. Big was ever the host and kept drinks coming throughout the night. Again playing the polite host, he brought over several other execs, among them a 500 lb southerner to whom Gio immediately took a liking and appropriately nicknamed "Sexy".

Finally Mr. Big popped the question: "you guys aren't with the network, are you?". We truthfully (or drunkenly) admitted our lack of affiliation with CW and he let us stay anyways an continued to bring us drinks and now made sure the cater waiters stopped by our firmly established post at a table officiously marked "Reserved." "But," he warned us, "just pretend you're with some show if people ask!". So when first questioned gio plead the 5th and simply said, "I'm under contract so I can't discuss any details about the show". I suddenly became an agent from Americas Top Model and Andrea my newest discovery and next season's winner. The cater waiters came HOT and heavy. Eager to be a good host to my cute Italian coworker, I offered to trade the waiter his tray for my hot blond import to her utter embarassment.

But we weren't in the clear yet. A security guard approached our cozy corner and asked who we were with; our plans and hard work were ruined. We would be forever labeled and sham and hoax and banned from GPH FOR EVER!! Gio and I looked at each other with nonplus. Our white knight came in the form of Andrea's confident response:"Tribune". "OK" retorted the guard and turned, leaving us to our drinks. Genial! Gio and I stared over at Andrea in amazement.
"How???????????". She gleamed victoriously "it's right there on the reserved sign!". Que tontos!

The party began to wind down and so we made a gracious exit thanking all for time well spent. At this point we were famished so we descended upon Elmo to have our nightly meal. Everything was going smoohtly until the faggot manager took it upon himself to diagnose gio as exceedingly and dangerously drunk, forbidding him to have another drink. If this wasn't enough, he bitchily snatched the drink right out of gio's hand just as he was about to take a drink. Needless to say Gio was livid and I'll leave it up to your imaginations to populate the discourse that followed with all kinds of four letter words and other expletives. So we called for the check, signed and got up to leave but not before gio dumped the ketchup pot on the signed copy of the bill. We walked Gio to his door, I dropped Andrea off at her hotel and tucked myself in, alone.

The End
(Luckily Top Model provided us with our own camera crew and they captured the night's irreplaceable memories on film).