Roger Stone Makes a Decent Martini
Fast Times With the New York Young Republicans
The official location for this party landed in our inboxes just a couple hours ago and we weren’t supposed to tell anyone but of course somebody told someone and so the sidewalk outside this restaurant in Little Italy contains about 10 intrepid protesters enduring the New York City rain to shout at the people going in. They have identical black signs that say something, I can’t remember what, I am busy not making eye contact and navigating towards the entrance.
“Go downstairs and celebrate a cop-killer!” one of them yells as I descend the steps. “You’re supporting dictators and cop killers!”
I present my ticket, which says “Martinis with Roger Stone!” and also my name. I am at a strange moment in my career where my name might be recognized but probably not; if recognized I might be barred but probably let in.
They let me in. “You’re supporting dictators and-”
The door shuts and my life smash-cuts to house music and low lights and men in suits steering me to coat check. The bar is small and oblong and dimly lit and full to bursting with more men in suits, infinite suits shouting and talking and drinking at the open bar, which is where I head as soon as I deposit my coat, because my personal code of honor is that it’s fine to pay for…
