People are making a big deal out of the epic bar tab this week (full version here), but I don't see why. Far as I can tell, it was just another Tuesday night in the Board Room, Chicago's epicenter of cool. Another Tuesday night with the top people in the Midwest. Have you been to the Board Room? It's awesome. Let me hit you with some info from the "boutique" nightclub's website:

The design of BOARD ROOM's multi-level seating grants those seated at one of its ten tables a voyeuristic view of the entire space including direct sightlines into the DJ booth as well as the rain showers incorporated into the bottle display showcasing the city's sexiest performers. A lighting system comparable to those found in the largest clubs in the world and top entertainers keep the energy levels high, encouraging clients to dance atop the booths in groups as large as 40 people. ...


Yeah, that's how it's done. Also:

As a complimentary amenity, BOARD ROOM offers a Hummer H1 limo accommodates thirty passengers and can pick up clientele from any location in the city to transport them to the venue. The thirty two foot LED-lit bar is stocked with the finest spirits from around the world, including rare Japanese scotch and premium tequilas. The Champagne selection, however, is the star of the show with an emphasis on cuvees, rosés, and large formats from the finest houses in France.

Yeah, brah. Hummer limos are the only way to travel. And Japanese scotch is totally Bill Murray in Lost in Translation. So awesome and classy. Taste it. Taste the class. You love the fucking taste of the Board Room's class. One reader tells us that the Board Room even pays a guy to dress up in a furry monster costume and run around the club to get the party hopping. If you want to throw napkins at other top people in the club, you can. It's also encouraged. So now you got the idea. You got a feel for the class and the people in this joint.

And that's when the willowy kid with the hair and his chesty friend walk in. Zac Efron and Heather Graham. Whatever. Just another Tuesday night at the Board Room. Anyone who needs to cool off better run under the rain showers. If an A-lister walks in, then you get to throw napkins or kick the furry monster in the nuts. I guess the Russian didn't get the message though. The Russian had been putting it down with his friends: two Grey Goose magnum bottles at $625 each, two magnums of Dom Perignon Luminous at $1250 apiece, four bottles of Cristal at $1000 each. Goddamn Russians. This one was pooping dollars. He was the son of a billionaire, at least according to the media reports that came out later. He was a fool. No idea how to properly generate an epic bar tab. You don't stick to bottle service and champagne. You mix it up. Epic bar tabs are about variance. You go high, then you go low. And when you go low, you max it out with quantity. You order 592 Bud Lights. Just to freak out the squares. You buy Red Bull for everybody in the club. You throw in some berry drinks, like the Bruins did after they won the Cup. Above all, you have a sense of humor. Russian billionaire brats don't understand that. They are mirthless cretins who don't know shit about drinking. They disgrace their people.


I'd like to blame Efron for something—for High School Musical, at the very least. But he's faultless. This is all on the Russian. When he sees two minor celebrities making their way into his VIP section, he grows excited. Perhaps his Russian leg thumps up and down. His grubby Russian hands might clutch at designer jeans before clutching at Papa's credit card. For what he is about to do, Papa should beat him. Papa should beat him to death with his granite fists. But Papa will not, and the Russian knows it. Jasmine, the Russian says thickly, I want the Ace of Spades. I want the Nebuchadnezzer. The gold one. I must present it to my new friends. Their names are Zac and Heather, and they are here in the Board Room on a Tuesday night. I want to be loved, Jasmine. Forever. Please note that you will also receive a 20 percent gratuity of $22,510 for your assistance.


Somewhere in a real VIP room, "Champagne King" Don Johnson sadly shakes his head.