The Critics Choice Award for chutzpah goes to … the lady swathed in gold lamé, sporting a Mohawk fade hairstyle who, without so much as a by-your-leave, crashed past me and scooped up a bottle of Milagro Silver tequila that was part of the centerpiece on tables at the Barker Hangar in Santa Monica. “Can I,” she asks, grabbing the booze.
Wasn’t my liquor. The thing that made me jump up in my seat was that Mohawk Lady already had bottles under her arm. Quick as a flash, she repeated the same move at neighboring tables.
By now she had a haul of five or six bottles. Crash! One of them fell to the ground, so she swiped a replacement. Stirred the former crime reporter in me.
Who was Mohawk Lady? She’s an online critic, someone at another table tells me. Later on I ask her directly but she mumbles, unsurprisingly, something incomprehensible.
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