If the cobblestone'd streets of New York's Meatpacking district could talk they'd probably say something like, "Jeeezu! Where'd all a' dese friggin' morons come from?" The weird little triangle of Dutch-named streets, meatmarket loading docks, and low-slung industrial edifices have seen more carnage than the Crimean war. But that's nearly all in the past. Now, it's a hotspot for well-heeled twits and the ill-heeled twits who sweat them. Jalopnik's sister site, Gawker, sent one of its snoops down there with a photog to find out what happens on a typical Friday night, and aside from the party scene, they came back with a short tableau of the district's late-night automotive sc ne faire. Let's take a look.
A super-stretch BMW X5, carrying a gaggle of bachelorette-party gals from North Jersey, tries to hang a u-ey after the bride-to-be realizes she may have accidently left her engagement ring inside the pants of a "good friend from college" back at Hogs and Heifers.
An unidentified driver of a BMW Z3 calls for backup after being propositioned by a she-male named "Fanteazza" on the West Side Drive.
Latin singer Ricky Martin yells at the paparazzi to "stand down," from the passenger seat of a "friend's" Lamborghini Gallardo. The photog, who hadn't noticed Martin, was just taking a picture of the car.
Realizing her friends have left her at an after-hours party, a young woman wonders if she can get a ride home from Tarik the hot dog guy and are the buns Atkins-friendly.