How so? Without naming names–and believe me, we tried–the man shared war stories about political types who leased space in his building during the 2004 primary season. Suffice to say, most of the stories had all the elements of a really good Motley Crüe afterparty: cops, lots of beer and drunk people. There was one about a campaign that was so noisy that people in adjacent buildings complained. “We’d get calls at 10 or 11 at night, and you’d have to go down there to tell them to knock it off,” the man griped. “But you’d get there and find out that no one was in charge. The person you needed to talk to- they were never there.”
But noise was nothing. One campaign, he says, threw a massive party before vacating their space, which spilled out into the hallways during the afternoon workday. During that fiesta, campaign workers, again no names, started a food fight in which a platter of lasagna was inexplicably thrown against the wall and left there. At least that’s what he thinks happened. He came across the bloody scene after the campaign had moved out-the stain of tomatoes and grease still fresh. Nearly four years later, he’s still mad about it. “Lasagna!” the man said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Lasagna on the wall! These are some nasty people.”
