www.villagevoice.com/music/0719,romano,76594,22.html -
[Cached Version]
Published on: 4/1/2007
Last Visited: 5/9/2007
I even met Chris Wilson, formerly of Page Six, at Siberia once, or maybe three times, all sometime between the hours of 4 and 7 a.m. Like how I imagine the real Siberia, the club was usually dark, and time didn't exist.
I spent the second half of my 30th birthday there, sitting on Siberia's tattered couches of questionable hygiene in a long black gown, with a fake diamond crown on my head, staring at the birthday cake on my platform shoes.I am sure my lipstick was smeared.Nights-or rather, mornings -often ended the way it did once for a friend: Penniless at the crack of dawn, she was forced to abandon a cab midcourse to ditch the fare, and wound up jumping on a subway going in the wrong direction and eventually doing the walk of shame in the blazing July sun, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge at high noon.
...
Such well-wishers as Chris Wilson, now a writer for Maxim, joined in the apparent tradition of hurling bottles at the wall."In the old place, we used to call this 'Night of a Thousand Broken Glasses,' " Wilson said.