Bars

When You Want To Impress Someone

by

Why is it that when you’re desperate to impress someone, you can’t seem to get arrested all of a sudden?

Years ago, my then-editor here wanted to go for a night on the town with some friends, led by me, the bejewled gatekeeper of New York nightlife. This was at the height of splashy downtown clubs, all of which generally treated me like royalty, sweeping me in, lavishing me with cocktails (I drank then), and taking my picture every time I looked up from the glass.

I was dying to show this woman how wildly famous I was on the scene while showing her and her pals a good time in the process. But to say it was an off night is an even bigger understatement than saying “Land of the Lost performed disappointingly at the box office.” For some reason, not one person I knew was at any of the clubs that night! There was no one fabulous, no one from my sphere, no one from Manhattan! Everywhere we turned, I was greeted by blank stares from troglodytes and harridans. Even the help had stayed home!

At one club, where the manager usually crawled up my ass with lit sparklers, there was a substitute worker saying “What’s the name again?” At other places, my presence was barely noticed, let alone prompting the expected parades and confetti monsoons.

My editor still thought it was a good time, but I knew better. What a sad scenario! Does trying to impress someone automatically curse the situation and make you invisible for a night?