Chillin' In Jersey: A Lesson In Journalistic Imbibing

THE HUDSON CURRENT is a free weekly paper in Hudson County NJ that features the subhead "Life • Leisure • Listings." It’s one of those rags that 95% of its readers peruse for the last of those three things, but occasionally I guess people do read its content. As any bartender who has time to kill after setup and before the dinner rush can tell you, stacks of free papers in the foyer can plug a few empty minutes. Two recent issues featured stories that did more than temporarily fill time: They provided me (and most of the staff at my bar) with endless amusement, and I’m not talking about the personals or the She-male ads. These two pieces were so (unintentionally) hilarious, they put most of THE ONION to shame.

The stories, "One Night, Four Bars: Another Glimpse of Hoboken’s Nightlife Scene" and "All Night Party: Experiencing Jersey City’s Summer Nightlife Scene" cemented every Jersey Guido and Crispy Chick stereotype you’ve ever heard. Repeated references to light beers, heavy colognes and perfumes, "chillin’," homogeneous outfits, "getting digits," cover bands, sports and money, all done without a trace of irony, made more than one reader ask "Is this for real?"

Sadly, it was. The following is a sampling of quotes from both articles, all grammatical and typographical errors presented verbatim (I won’t insult the Hangover’s readers by correcting them for you.... I trust you know proper pronoun usage).

In ONE NIGHT, FOUR BARS (another glimpse of Hoboken’s Nightlife Scene), the writer (whose name I’ll omit) prowls the mile square with three of his closest male pals:

"Dave, Brian and Rich sat by the end of the bar near the front window. I went to the bathroom. When I came back I noticed Dave and Brian talking to some women next to them. Rich and I conversed about our jobs, basketball and girls."

"Girls normally start dishing out digits only after their fifth drink at 1 a.m. at a bar or club."

"Green Rock is one of those bars that are always packed... My boy Brian went up to bar to buy drinks (it was his round) and Dave and I approached the group with the cutest girls.... Dave and a girl named Lisa seemed to hit it off. I heard them talk about financial stuff and the stock market. They both worked for business firms down the Jersey Shore."

"As they left in their tight black pants and belly shirts, Dave turned to me, almost knocking me down with the scent of his early ‘90s Polo Sport. ‘What! I gots me the digits, yo.’ ...After getting ‘digits,’ it is recommended that the guy call during the middle of the week in order to seem interested but not too desperate."

"It was almost 11 p.m. and we decided to take our game up a couple of blocks to the popular Whiskey Bar on busy Washington Street... I recognized one of (the bartenders). We had graduated from the same college together. She still didn’t hook me up with drinks."

"There’s a lot of hot pieces here," Brian said to us. "I know, I know," Rich said."

"Attractive women is a big factor of a good bar or club."

"’You know, Shaq is huge,’ I said, half-drunk. ‘Yeah, I know, but I still say Kidd is the best player in the league,’ he said."

The caption under one of the photos reads, "People hang out in Hoboken during the weekends."

In "ALL NIGHT PARTY: Experiencing Jersey City’s Summer Nightlife Scene," our intrepid reporter hits the JC night spots with three female acquaintances (presumably to give this piece a slightly different flavor... mild cheddar instead of medium?).

"(Kelly) just turned 21 and goes out with her friends to meet guys and drink. "I hear the Sandbar is off the hook on Saturdays.... Hopefully a lot of cute guys will be out. I don’t want to dance with no scrubs." (No doubt Left Eye was smiling down from Heaven at her legacy.)

"With plenty of parking, P.J.’s is a great place to relax and watch a good sports game on a flat TV."

At one point, our hero uses his Press Connections to get on the list for The Sandbar (described as "arguably one of the best clubs in North Jersey"). By this time, a number of male pals have joined the partay, and they are muy impressed at being "on the list."

"’This is a great place to meet single women,’ he said. ‘Almost everybody here is Latino, and me and my boys get ripped and meet people.’"

"Jason, Brad and me went to the indoor dance floor.... Since Brad has always wanted to kick it to Carla’s friend Kelly, he walked up to her and danced."

"’Yo, I have to go to work. i think the little one likes me,’ said Jason. ‘Go kid. Go to work,’ I said to him."

"’I can’t believe that guy asked me for my number,’ Kelly said, laughing....’If he looked good I would have given him my cell,’ she said. ‘But he was stupid.’" (I really think this should have been spelled ‘stoopit.’)

Okay, it’s easy to mock mindless drones who go to jam packed weekend warrior places looking for "digits".... let the babies have their bottles, I say. What kills me is not so much the predictable behavior reported, but the manner in which it’s done. The writing is so awful, so junior high, so utterly lacking in any insight or perspective it just made me angry.

Reading both of these pieces, I was reminded of Cheech and Chong’s "Sister Mary Elephant" where her students have to read their reports on their summer vacations. I kept hearing the cadence of the stoner repeating "I woke up. Then I went downtown. To look for a job. Then I hung out in front of the drugstore," over and over again.

Why weren’t these pieces of stellar journalism EDITED, you may wonder? Perhaps because they were WRITTEN BY THE EDITOR!!! This is the person whose job it is to look at other writers’ work and tell them what’s wrong with it! To cut the fat, to make it flow better, to make it legible!

At one point in the Hoboken tale, our fearless leader tells of impressing a lady with his journalistic credentials. "’You’re not really a writer, are you?’ she kept asking me. ‘Trust me, I’m a journalist,’ I would reply, with a smile."

Pallie, you may get a paycheck for typing words into a computer and having them appear in newsprint, but trust ME.... you are NOT a writer. But keep chillin,’ yo. The weekend isn’t too far off.