Big news here at The Leviathan, the sprawling high-rise where I live: After a decade of misfires, recriminations, and several decorators whose proposals made me wonder about demonic possession, the building has redecorated the lobby.
I went downstairs to check it out the other day — I’d avoided the whole thing under construction — and I was not whelmed. My first thought was that someone must have said, “Let’s tell ChatGPT to create a look that’s a cross between a midwestern Ramada and a wedding cake.”
In fact, it’s a celebration of beige — banal and harshly lit — which, coincidentally, is also how I’d describe several residents at Happy Hour.
But, the furniture intrigued me. The only pops of color in the huge space, each piece seems to glow, but not in a warm, cozy way. More an “ET, phone home” vibe.
While I was admiring the furniture — well, staring at it slack-jawed, afraid to touch anything — one of the bitch-savants involved in the decorating approached me.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked.
“It raises many questions in my mind,” I said.
“Like what?” she asked defensively.
“How many naugas sacrificed their hides to produce this upholstery?”
“It’s simulated!” she chirped, pushing me down. “Sit on it!”
I hit the settee like a bowling ball dropped from a helicopter. Memory foam flowed around me as people rushed past. I sank deep into another dimension — unfortunately, that dimension was exactly like the Delta Sky Club in Atlanta, but without the free food and cocktails.
Hmm…maybe we should consider priority boarding and baggage restrictions for the elevators. Win-win!