fifteen seconds of fame at the Dream Hotel

This Sunday evening I joined Yvonne and Phillip at the Dream hotel, a  fantasyland for the pop-culture-consuming rich, a shiny metallic fountain of youth where everything is surface.

The aluminum façade feeds on the futuristic cruise ship motif: circular holes for windows a Inside it feels as if the spaceship of 2001 Space Odyssey crashed into a Miami clubhouse: vintage furniture, pictures of Keith Richards smoking a joint and Jimmy Hendrix burning his guitar, etc, etc.

Everything revolves around the circle: spherical lamps and spherical bulbs, circular windows and circular doors. Circular balconies and wallpaper with grey circles. Spotted umbrellas.  No square people allowed.

The space around the small pool is a fashion show, entering without high heels is sacrilege. In the back there´s a  “beach” with real sand and access to the extremely well supplied bar. A constant techno-beat in the background. More staff that than the actual crowd.

The beat, the same fucking beat. Heartbeat and anthem of the entire neighborhood.  Always on, the exact same compass, day and night. A constant rhythm, designed to induce a sort of trance.

Except no one was actually dancing–they were just watching each other getting wasted, all of them enacting their pleasure in terms of green connection, the Benjamin’s, wondering how each one could possibly afford to hang out. A vintage orgy of silicone breasts and long, ridiculous haircuts.

It was gay night in the club and the place was getting full of the flashiest most spectacular divas from the Meatpacking District packing themselves against each like sardines. A group of drunk English men,  in the pool, their mouths open wide like orcas in Sea World, waited for two girls to throw them pieces of shrimp so they could catch them and entertain the crowd.

In the corner, a spectacularly fake Beyonce-looking blond, a black Barbie, lying down in a Cleopatra pose and  watching the event  from afar.

It started raining. But the party kept going till late at night.

Tomorrow the same thing would happen. Again and again, until the end of times.

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