Last weekend, the good folks—and insatiable party animals—over at Thrillist, set out to prove that the West Coast truly is the best coast by inviting hordes of social influencers, media types, and sweepstakes winners to be wined and dined (emphasis on the wined) in L.A., home to the website’s second-longest-running city edition. The home base for what was dubbed “Hotel Thrillist” was the JW Marriot, part of the massive entertainment complex L.A. Live, the centerpiece of downtown L.A.’s revitalization.

Last night the "fashion set" bid the tents at Bryant Park adieu and turned the runways into 1Oak- a look that came complete with dancing models, Moet and Ronnie Madra. I put "fashion set" in those very convenient quotations because partiers were more of the "drinking set," as apparently none of the people who had spent the most time under the big top- the fashion editors, designers and front row stars- could muster the nostalgia necessary to say goodbye. That and Calvin Klein was having his party somewhere else.

● Macondo (Lower East Side) - Hero to gourmand alkies everywhere, Junior Merino has gone and done it again. His Aguacate and Mescal at Rayuela’s younger, cheaper, funner sis is probably the greatest thing to ever muck up a blender. Creamy fresh avocado, sweet agave nectar, and Scorpion mescal by the frosty, puke-green pitcher. ● Momofuku Noodle Bar (East Village) - The porky ramen bar takes 7-Eleven to school, son, with its watermelon lemonade Soju Slushie. Big gulp a couple and marvel at how all the blond wood is like getting smashed inside somebody’s cool balsa architecture project. Brain freeze! ● Rusty Knot (West Village) - Named after the most disgusting sex act ever, the eponymous frozen mojito is also a kitschy tiki classic. Spotted Pig via Key West is the perfect camped-out cruise -- supplement your plastic cup of rum-n-sugar with a pig in a blanket and sunset over the West Side Highway. Only thing missing is Gavin MacLeod.

Are you tired of hokey recession specials that never end up scratching your gnawing, thirsty itch? We are rapidly becoming a city of broke drunks, thus it is vital we learn how to be the best broke drunks we can be. If you have no job, no prospects, and only a few bucks, but still maintain flawless taste, then check out the top ways to get your drink on without further damaging the already broken bank.

It hardly need be pointed out that we pine longingly for the days when airline travel was all sexy and glamorous, and political correctness hadn’t outlawed the use of the “stewardess” (though, mind, we’d never dream of referring to her as “toots”). But those groovers over at JetBlue, apparently understanding our considerable pain over the matter, have decided to open the terminal of our dreams this fall at the interminably construction-riddled JFK International Airport. Built adjacent to the venerated but tragically moribund Earo Saarinen 1962 TWA Terminal -- perhaps trying to absorb some of the hope for the future that it once inspired -- the new Terminal 5 will be spacious, light-drenched, and a shining symbol of the once great modern ideal.