Many people over the years have judged me for hanging at the dark and dated Imperial House lounge. I’ve been told that I’m missing out on meeting young, wealthy, movers & shakers my age by not spending my time in the downtown clubs. First let me say, I’m not impressed by anyone who will pay $400 for bottle service on Vodka I can get down the street for $20. Second, I don’t own a pair of Lucite heels, and third, while the downtown scene has great moments I’m sure, but I prefer to drink and socialize without the deafening “thud, thud, thud” of a blown-out bass in my ear.
That being said, it might not be pretty or glamorous at the Impy, but if I was downtown when I met Serge I can pretty much guarantee we would not be friends today. We would have maybe exchanged small talk before I blew him and his button down Banana Republic dress shirt off for someone with tattoos and cynicism. I would have put him into a very small box along with all the other downtown yuppies (if that is a term still being used) and moved on not knowing what a good friend I could have found.
Serge doesn’t live in the building, but he lives a block away and he frequents the Impy. He has been around for years, and because of that he gets honorary Imperial Tower status. I can’t remember the exact moment or year we met, but he is a regular and even more importantly a friend.
Serge is special in that he is my sparring partner. Let me preface by saying he is one of the smartest men I know. I don’t just spar with anybody. East coast transplant, businessman, published author, foodie, and political junkie, we are well matched for debate. And while we fall on different sides of the political lines, nothing is more fun than having a good row with him.
I refuse to debate with the uninformed. There is no fun in that. No challenge and no respect. But my dear Serge worked both sides of the political lines before coming to the beliefs he holds today. And while I disagree with most of his beliefs, I respect them immensely. Debate for us is a weird form of nerd foreplay. Now don’t get me wrong, we are not involved. We do however both get a weird satisfaction out of debating each other. (I can only speak for myself, of course.) Election years are of particular fun to us, much to the dismay of those who happen to be within earshot of us. The bartender on many occasions has interrupted our conversations and told us we have to change the subject. Serge and I would take a break from our banter to plead with him and try to convince him that we were only having fun and that there was no need for concern. A mutual respect keeps things in check. Unfortunately the bartender doesn’t follow politics at all and thinks that any political discussion will end in a bar fight. Regardless, much fun has been had in and out-of earshot of our dear bar manager.
Sadly, Serge is planning a move back to the east coast. After many years of debating together, drinking together, even a weird incident where I had to help him out with some thugs who wanted to fight, Serge may be leaving. I wish him the best! A house on the east coast to be closer to his family, settling down and maybe even starting a family of his own, Serge will be leaving before the year ends. I hope that in the coming years we will be able to keep in touch. Who knows…I try to get to New York at least once a year. Maybe we can catch up and continue our tradition over drinks in the village, or at his new home with wife, kids and dog by his side. All I know is it won’t be at some club. And quite frankly, I’m okay with that.
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