6:30 p.m. — The bar is rammed, and people are extremely impatient. I’m used to Toronto, non-Hollywood people who are more chill. Every single person is kind of shitty. I guess they’re travelling for work and probably not used to waiting in a six-person line at the bar, but that’s no excuse. This guy is clapping his hands in front of my face trying to get my attention. I take his drink away and I say, “I’m not standing back here texting. I’m obviously busy and moving. I see you, I would have gotten to you, but now you don’t get a drink.” He goes to management or reception and tries to get me trouble. I hear about it later, but nobody was indulging in that.