Urban Marinade

I don’t like to step on a soapbox too often. I used to do that when I lived in California and it didn’t help my image. But something recently happened that irked me and now I feel like I need to speak out. No, I’m not offering to occupy a Starbucks or topple some newspaper bins. I just need to get something off my chest.

This past December, I was honored to learn I had been selected by the Washington Post as one of their finalist in their annual D.C. Tweeps contest. The contest is basically a superlatives list of local personalities on twitter. I was nominated in the “Nightlife Insider” category. It was actually the second year in a row that I was given this honor. Pretty cool eh! I was happy. And I played into it a bit and shamelessly plugged the contest in hopes I would win. Alas, I didn’t.

I’m not mad that I didn’t win. But I am mad about who actually did win. The term “nightlife insider” can obviously mean many of different things. But one thing I think this category should embody is “nightlife.”  When the person who wins the category very rarely does anything or says anything about nightlife, you have to wonder what’s up. Seriously, I get the whole popularity contest side of this. But if the Washington Post wants to be considered relevant and accurate, wouldn’t they make sure their nominees represent the category they are supposedly nominated for? I know the girl who won. She’s very nice. She’s very engaged and does a good job marketing her business. But it’s not a nightlife business. It has very little to do with nightlife.

My good friend Zach was nominated as well. Zach is a promoter for Glow. I would have loved to see Zach win. The guy is out every night. He’s out at some of the biggest and best parties all the time. If you want a true nightlife insider, shouldn’t it be someone who actually goes out at night?