Bodyguards Are The New Ugg Boots

Far be it from me to openly question others’ self-aggrandizing behavior, but I have to say, this seems a tad self-aggrandizing:

If you want to flirt with Darcy Smith, beware. You’ll have to get through her personal bouncer first.

Brendan Reed, a 6-foot-5, 315-pound tough guy Smith affectionately calls “the medium-sized one,” is one of three muscle-bound diplomats Smith uses to ward off admirers when she goes clubbing with her friends.

For $10 an hour plus expenses, Reed ensures that unwanted Romeos don’t start dirty dancing or asking for the women’s phone numbers.

“Some men can be really aggressive,” said Smith, a 30-something entrepreneur from South Orange, N.J. “It makes the experience a lot more pleasant. My bodyguard’s my most valued accessory.”

Just to be clear, as far as we understand, it’s not like Ms. Smith is venturing too far out of the green zone here — she’s no celebrity, either — just your average everyday clubgoer:

Smith is married and owns the West Village restaurant Andavi with her husband David Kokakis. But waving her ring does little to dissuade cocky New Yorkers.

The final straw came last February, when she was having a drink with a friend, 27-year-old Elicia Castaldi, in a hotel bar. Two groups of men kept offering to buy them drinks, and wouldn’t be put off by their refusals. Eventually, the manager allegedly told the women things might be better if they left.

The admirers “were getting really mad!” Castaldi said, adding that rich, eligible bachelors often feel “entitled.” Smith was livid that the barman seemed to blame the women more for attracting attention than the men who crossed the line.

The next day, with her husband’s encouragement, Smith put an ad on Craigslist looking for a security guard who would join her and her friends when they went out. The ad netted a moonlighting security guard named Victor and two other bouncers.

Not only does a bodyguard’s presence help Smith to let loose when she goes out, it also gives her husband piece of mind when he’s working or at home.

“It’s not about fending off guys who may want to flirt or hit on them — that’s fine.” Kokakis says. “It’s about keeping the drunken, aggressive pr–ks [pricks] away from them. Many guys mistake when a woman says ‘no’ for ‘try harder, be more persuasive.'”

“If you’re a woman who’s been driven out of bars or clubs because guys just won’t leave you the hell alone, then you’ll understand that it’s worth the money to have a bodyguard watch your back for the night,” he added.

Of course there’s always the option of — gosh, I don’t know — simply refusing to patronize bars populated by bridge and tunnel trash (present company excluded, of course)?

Your 80-Hours-A-Week Job At Sea Level Will Not Be An Issue

Needing to acclimate to high elevations for a South American mountain trek but don’t have one minute to spare? Simply obtain an altitude chamber and train from the office:

The chamber came equipped with a mask, which [Richard] Wiese could strap over his mouth and nose. The air coming through the mask was even more hypoxic, like the air at twenty-one thousand feet. After issuing a few disclaimers, Wiese had the visitor strap on the mask. “It’s going to be a horrible experience, and at some point you’ll say, ‘Take this off!'” he said. The mask went on, and within a minute the world grew heavy, the light pre-surgical. The pulse sped, as the blood’s oxygen level dropped. “More of your cells are being killed than are being rejuvenated,” Wiese explained. To mimic conditions inside a snowbound tent, Wiese and the visitor played a few hands of blackjack. “Look at you bobbing around,” Wiese said. “Your eyes are looking a little buggy. Try standing up.” This experiment did not go well. Nor did a brief one involving a step machine inside the chamber. Finally, the revelation that the visitor was feeling an unfamiliar tingling in the vicinity of his left femoral artery prompted an immediate removal of the mask.

Quack . . . Quack Quack . . .

After seven straight days of rain (and more rain), it’s as good a time as any to note (with an elitist’s upturned brow and obvious sneer) that ducks — those truck-boat hybrids seen in other tourism-driven cities — are trying to break into the New York market:

Unlike Boston, Philadelphia, London and dozens of other cities around the world, New York City does not offer tourists the pleasure of paying around $25 to cruise the streets in an amphibious bus, known as a duck, that ends its journey by splashing into the nearest body of water. Manhattan is lacking a crucial ingredient in the recipe for ducks: it has no boat ramps within five miles of Times Square.

New York Waterway, the biggest operator of commuter ferries between the city and New Jersey, hopes to fix that deficiency by building a ramp at Pier 78, at the west end of 38th Street, to accommodate a fleet of buses that float. But first the ferry company has to deal with criticism from competitors and community groups that oppose adding to the cacophony of western Midtown.

Meanwhile, those in charge — or at least the community board in the area — want to move slowly:

The local community board has asked the Army Corps of Engineers to hold a public hearing on the duck ramp before deciding whether to approve it, said John Doswell, co-chairman of the waterfront and parks committee of the board, Manhattan Community Board No. 4.

“Right from the get-go, the concern the board had was yet more traffic in an area we feel has got way too much traffic already,” Mr. Doswell said. As for being invaded by ducks, he said, “It all sounds a little strange, but I guess they figure people will pay money for this experience.”

Indeed, people probably will. Each year, more than one million of them ride the vehicles, encouraged by guides to quack like ducks or blow kazoos as they bounce and bob along.

And just so you know, competition is heating up ahead of any final approval, which could mean — joy of joys — dueling ducks and, presumably, dueling duck calls:

A few entrepreneurs have been studying ways to launch the ducks in Manhattan, and one startup, Big Apple Ducks, is considering hauling tourists from Lower Manhattan to Red Hook, Brooklyn, to plunge into the harbor. Carrie McIndoe, the president of Big Apple Ducks, said the company had bought three amphibious vehicles, called TrolleyBoats, that it hopes to start operating in Manhattan and Brooklyn by the spring.

But Gray Line, which runs dozens of open-top sightseeing buses all over the city, is trying to head off Big Apple Ducks by forming a partnership with New York Waterway. The Imperatore family, which controls the ferry company, would own and operate the ducks, while Gray Line would handle sales and marketing of the tours, said Tom Lewis, president of Gray Line New York.

The Imperatores have ordered eight amphibious buses that could navigate the clogged streets of Manhattan, then roll down the ramp for a quick float in the tricky currents of the Hudson River. Some duck operators use reconditioned military troop carriers that were nicknamed ducks during World War II. (Those boats have had several accidents, and one sank in Arkansas six years ago, killing 13 people.)

It’s Like Herding Cats . . . Into Hoops . . . Masquerading As Obstacle Courses

It just gets more and more difficult to be a cat, what with their owners expecting so much out of them:

Sheryl Crowe – no, not Sheryl Crow, the singer, but Sheryl Crowe, the cat with the second name that is spelled like that of Russell Crowe, the actor – had a choice of going over, under, around or through a big plastic hoop. On the far side of the hoop stood her owner, waving what cat people call a “teaser,” a stick with a sparkly ball on one end.

The idea – the big new idea at the cat show that opens at Madison Square Garden on Saturday – was that Sheryl Crowe would see the sparkly ball, jump through the hoop and go on to complete what amounted to an obstacle course. Yes, an obstacle course for cats.

Sheryl Crowe saw the sparkly ball, all right. But she slithered through the gap beneath the hoop. As her owner, Lauren Castle-Flynn, explained, “We’re not doing over, we’re doing under.”

In the annals of humans and cats, Sheryl Crowe was in uncharted territory as she previewed the course for what the Cat Fanciers’ Association, an organizer of the show, calls the agility competition. In the 99 years of the association’s existence – 99 years of judging things like the color of a cat’s fur and the shape of its head – it has never set up tunnels to run through and obstacles to jump over. Or not.

. . .

The agility course was set up inside what amounted to a large cage. Black plastic fencing, the kind homeowners in the suburbs put up to keep deer from lunching on the Montauk daisies that were planted last weekend to replace the ones that were brunch the weekend before, had been stretched across wooden frames. On one side was a door with a latch.

“Everybody always says, ‘I don’t think you can train a cat to do this,’ ” said Nikki Sanders of Columbia, S.C., whose cat, Lem, came in third in the agility competitions in two other cat shows. “Well, they’ll follow a toy. The fact they do all the obstacles is more important than the time. If they refuse, they do get penalties.”

This “Feline Agility Competition” begins in earnest this Saturday and Sunday at Madison Square Garden.

See also: Cat Fanciers’ Association CFA-IAMS Cat Championship official website.

People Really Win

A recent graduate with a MBA who resorted to walking around with a “Hire Me!” sandwich board has found a job . . . handing out fliers while wearing a sandwich board! Just kidding! Actually, the Post reports that the plucky young man got a “straight” job (as if there’s something wrong with wearing a sandwich board) after a sales director saw him pimping himself near Grand Central Station:

Christopher Barth’s hard walk has finally paid off.

Unable to land a job, even with a brand-new MBA, the Brooklyn man paced up and down 42nd Street wearing a sandwich board sign urging potential employers: “HIRE ME.”

Barth’s creative job hunting, which The Post first reported in August, has now landed him a position at telecommunications consulting company Broadview Networks.

The budding account executive was discovered when Alan Weissman, sales director for Broadview Networks, saw Barth, 25, standing on 42nd Street next to Grand Central Station.

On Sept. 19, Broadview confidently offered the enterprising young man a job selling Internet and long-distance service to small businesses.