There's a story about Glenn Gould discovering that he could practice piano most efficiently while there was a vacuum cleaner running in the same room. And just yesterday, frequent-commenter Mr. Berman posted a very good solve time despite repeated interruptions from his boss. Well, today, as I worked on this puzzle, Frannie was switching back and forth between the Nightly Business Report and Charlie Rose, and as it turned out, I plowed through it like a bulldozer through sand. Sure, at the ACPT I was annoyed beyond distraction by the clicking of a camera shutter - maybe what would have been better is if the person sitting next to me had been watching TV. (Don't even think about it, Berman.)
And so what do I remember? A generally positive reaction. I loved WHATADUMP (17A: "This place looks horrible!"), and that phrase is, sadly, kind of appropriate for the ACROPOLIS (14A: Literally, "highest city") (really? it's not just "high city?"). No, that's too strong. Even in RUNES, err... ruins, the ACROPOLIS is still amazing.
There was some hesitation about whether an A or an E were needed in GENTLEMENSCLUB (19A: Site where top hats and canes might be checked at the door), but finally, MIME (7D: Act out) gave the answer. I enjoyed the informality of GODEEP (30A: Throw a long football pass), the formality of WONT (61A: Practice) (which my dad is wont to say). 10D: Bottom of the sea? (HULL) brought a smile, CITYMAP (39D: Concierge's handout), too, made me smile, as I remembered receiving these in so many different cities... ahh, travel... CRANNY, SKORT, STOOP, ... lots of good stuff.
1A: Cuckoo (DAFT)... hmmm, I don't know. How about a B. DAFT is a decent word.
Favorite: TINE (37A: Food sticker). I think I needed three crosses!
Least: XERO (51D: Prefix with -graphic) This is crossword-worthy?
There was some glue - ENTR, ANI, SSN, MSS... - but nothing egregious. Overall, I liked this one quite a bit.