At 9 p.m. last night, Bank Street was humming with black Mercedeses, all idling for the air conditioning. "It's gotta be cold when my client comes out," said one driver. A bright red motorcycle with Diplomat plates screeched to a halt and an olive-skinned man bounded off into the most literarily significant inn since the Tabard. As prescribed by the Post's Mandy Stadtmiller, we had made reservations through Jon Kelly, Graydon Carter's assistant.

At the front bar is a mixture of beautiful young women and somewhat less beautiful and less young men who are accompanying them. "Rich, Rich," one man who looked like a dumpy George Lucas called to his friend at the bar, "Sauvignon blanc!"

Few people were alone—except at the very end of the bar, a very tall and forlorn-looking Mark Warner, the former Virginia governor and momentary presidential contender, sat drinking a glass of white wine. A man at the bar, surrounded by skinny and cute girls, laughed and said, "Ha, it's just like the five-year-itch!"

At the tables, a bit after 9 p.m., the shining lights of Manhattan's social mantle began to stand out. In one corner by the window, Anne McNally (of Vanity Fair fashion fame) sat with New Yorker writer Michael Specter and beautiful model-actress-painter Anh Duong. McNally clutched a white alligator print Prada bag; Specter sported his trademark weirdly-folding spectacles. The waiter was pushing the "famous macaroni and cheese."

Across from the McNally fourtop, Spike Carter, Graydon's kid, and a couple of his teenaged-looking friends sported the ruddiness of white kids who had been drinking. One of the girls in that party wore an oversize gray Batman t-shirt, another an Adidas jumpsuit. Spike himself sported a scruffy beard and was by far the least well-dressed man in the room.

There is a coveted horseshoe-shaped banquette, located, oddly enough, near the bathroom in the front room. This is where Graydon usually sits when he's there. Last night that space was occupied by Graydon's dear friend Ron Perelman. Next to him sat Penny Marshall and a couple of young girls. Ron and Graydon are as close as Penny Marshall and Ron's ex Ellen Barkin; those two were in a 1985 off-Broadway production of Eden Court.

By 11:30, the crowd had thinned considerably. The average weight dropped as the literary types went to bed and the model types came to "dinner." Outside the black town cars gave way to white limos. Through the slatted blinds of a neighboring townhouse, a leery resident peered out at the scene with suspicion. Her crow-footed eyes glittered with hostility. The diplomat jumped on his motorcycle and sped away down Bank Street.