Flash Mayhem

Flash Mob #4 was tonight. Real mayhem. Here's what went down.

6:55 pm: I was in a hurry so I took a cab from Union Square. People born in July were supposed to show up at the Bleecker Street Bar at Crosby and Bleecker. The cab driver didn't believe me and told me that Bleecker didn't intersect with Crosby. I told him to just let me off at Bleecker, and lo and behold I was a block away from the intersection of Crosby and Bleecker.

For some reason, even though I'm sick and I knew I'd only be there a minute, I ordered a $6 Stoli on the rocks. After a minute of scanning the bar (about 50% of the people in there were obviously Flashmobbers), I spotted a guy handing out slips. I took one and left the vodka sadly unimbibed.

We were instructed to go to a shoe store on Lafayette and pretend to be out-of-towners who were really excited to be in an actual Soho shoe store. The problem with this was, here we are, a bunch of pretentious hipsters, make fun of a pretentious shoe store where many of us would actually shop (if we weren't there for a pretentious Flash Mob.) Typical postmodern incestuous navel-gazing.

7:05 pm: I find the store. It isn't even that chic or pretentious. It has big signs advertising sales. It's more of a warehouse store than a chic Soho boutique. Bad choice of venue. I have time to kill so I wander. Around the corner, I find Housing Works Used Book Cafe, which rocks. I've got to go back there.

7:16 pm: I figure it's time to go back. We were told to synchronize our watches so I want to make sure I arrive just on time. Of course, as soon as I turn the corner, I realize the vast majority of people neglected to synchronize. The place is already seething with hipsters. Messenger bags are spilling out the window. iPods are being tread underfoot. It's a forest of thick, black-rimmed glasses, slick digital cameras, and shoes bought in pretentious Soho boutiques.

Crossing the street, I hear a little girl address her grandmother: "We have to go in there, there's somebody famous!" I turned to her: "There's nobody famous. They're just ... congregating." Oddly enough, this seemed to make perfect sense to the little girl.

7:18 pm: Bedlam. Right as I arrive at the doors, the security guard bars them. It's already dangerously packed in the shoe store, and he's sweating up a storm. Our little hipster Happening may cost this guy his job.

People are begging and pleading to be allowed in at this point. One older woman, obviously out of place in this Conference of Youth, charges the door, shouting "New York Times! New York Times!" It was satisfying to see her turned away. After Jayson Blair, they just don't get the same respect from people on the street.

Check the Flash Mob #4 photo album on the side for all the full-size pics.

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