Last Friday night, an hour and a half after arriving at the Westlight restaurant on the roof of the new William Vale hotel in Brooklyn’s hip Williamsburg neighborhood, I checked in with the hostess: Another 15 minutes, she chirped, promising that my name was at the top of the waiting list and my party of two would be seated shortly.
The restaurant was fully booked by noon that day, but another cheerful hostess had assured me on the phone that the wait wouldn’t be long, so I didn’t expect to be ensconced at the Westlight’s industrial-chic bar for more than two hours.
