Back down to the lobby, the television cameras doing an Academy Awards number with the lights training on low-wattage people like actress Yancy Butler, the media chumps expecting Sharon Stone, Boris Yeltsin, whatever to stroll in. Stone wisely opting for the Wynton Marsalis concert, another actual expected movie star dining across the street. The evening stumbling into oblivion. Yet another journalist manque, a part-time "psychic entertainer" from Orlando, looking for bit parts; a club owner talking about the financial benefits of rampant celebrity delusion. Another pointless evening, an out-of-town guest marveling at the insanity: "This is so bizarre; there's too much happening at once with no focus. But nothing -- absolutely nothing -- is going on.