WHITE GLOVE SERVICE

I went to a party out on Long Island this past weekend for my friend Frank Morano, who just turned 21. At the party were an assortment of strange celebrities - Richard Bey was there, who, in case you don't remember was Jerry Springer before Jerry Springer came along, and Joe Franklin was there as well, who, in case you don't know, is a talk show host legend in his own rite.

Frank Morano is a spitfire go-getter who is involved with the Staten Island Independence Party, he produces radio shows at WABC and runs his own cable access show on Staten Island TV called "Moranovision". The last time I went to one of Frank's parties, it was themed around him breaking the Guinness World Record for the longest steady broadcast or something...where his show aired for 36 hours or maybe longer. At the end, The Real Kramer gave me a ride home.

So, it's usually a very interesting, bizarre time whenever Frank is involved.

His party was held at a caitering hall on Staten Island. It was a fancy enough spot, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room, big round tables with name cards, and FOUR forks beside every place setting! The soft, chewy dinner roll came accompanied by two perfectly round butter balls that looked like they were made of white chocolate. But here's the most impressive part:

The hired help had white gloves.

I don't know if white gloves are supposed to indicate something in particular - mob affiliations, respect for Jesus, loving everything to be clean, Japan people pushers, who knows? But god damn, the service was EXCELLENT. Too good, almost. It was the kind of service where you even hint at a request and your expectations are exceeded. I might say, "Hm..., I'm kind of thirsty..." rhetorically, and not even knowing anyone heard me, three waiters arrive at my side, one with coffee, one with water, and one asking to take a drink order.

Wierd!

I almost have no complaints. The only thing I have to complain about is that by the end of the night, all the white gloves were filthy brown from being so god damn servicy.

In contrast. Loew's Movie Complex in Times Square is a different story. I went on Tuesday to see Star Wars, which by the way was excellent in my opinion, and I fucking HATE Star Wars. I went expecting to fall asleep. But more about that on Jessy Delfino's Blog.

When we got there, of course there was a big long line. Two people were working the registers. At one point, the male register worker said, "I'm going on my break." He shut down his register and just walked away, leaving one lone woman to deal with the whole, long irritated line. As the guy was sauntering away all proud of himself, I decided to embarrass him.

"Are you going to just leave her alone with this whole long line of people?" I asked incredulously. He got a little bit flustered and quickly jumped into the elevator.

Half of you are cursing me, calling me a bitch inside. "How could she do that? Doesn't she know he's only getting paid $8 per hour?" The other half are saying, "Good. I know how much it sucks to wait in a long line because of lousy service."

Is the fault Loews, for only paying their employees $8 per hour? Is the fault the guy's, for working at a job he probably hates? Is the fault his mother's or father's, for not instilling a good work ethic in him? Or is the fault mine, for giving a turd about whether service is good or not?