It had been a fitful evening with the sunburn on my knees acting like mini-heat lamps during the night. I woke up several times, overheated under the covers and uncomfortable with the sting. Marmalade was happy, he thought it was playtime whenever he saw me awake and I had a very persistent cat to deal with on top of my discomfort. I had Alexa play some soothing classical music to lull myself back to sleep but I only managed to drift in and out for most of the night, the music making my dreams drift in Disney-accented colors. I gave up trying once I saw the light creeping in behind the window blinds, and decided to start my usual morning routine.
Having this new laptop has been a blessing, even though it hasn't even been a full week, I feel reborn being able to utilise a proper keyboard once again. It's a welcome new morning companion, along with the morning news shows, and my usual oatmeal and coffee for breakfast.
My top priority was to get my bicycle fixed, though, and I was waiting for a more amenable time to call my local bike shop to see if they were open for repairs. With the pandemic and all the executive orders from our governor, I wasn't sure how much of their business was available. I caught up online, did some light chores, blogged here, and started planning my day. Of course the shop was open and doing repairs, I was told when I called, so I got ready and walked my wounded bicycle the few blocks over.
Every time I deal with the good people at AAAA Bike Shop, I'm always taken a little aback by their brusqueness, very no-nonsense and direct. Which is actually refreshing, I never feel like I'm getting pressured into more than I need or want (would you like a sparkle banana seat and handle streamers?). I told the repair guy in the back of the shop what I needed, the front tire, which was noticeably bald and flat, a bike rack to carry small items from the stores, and I wanted my kickstand moved. It's on the back tire and not in the middle, and the bike falls over constantly, it won't balance from the back end and drives me mad.
Okay, he said to the first request. You gotta go up front and pick out a rack, he said to the second. A firm NO, to the third. Well, fuck me then, I thought, but he explained that I had an expensive bike, and it couldn't be moved with the design.
Now here's where I paused in thought because, although I really like my bike and think I got a pretty good deal when I bought it, it's performs great, nice and solid, very little maintenance, quiet and fast, I knew for a fact that it was not expensive. I had gotten it at Wal*Mart a few years before and with the little damage that was on it from being in the store (people riding it through the aisles), I was able to talk the cashier into knocking the price down to a hundred and thirty bucks. So his declaration that I had an expensive bike made me laugh a little. I went to the front of the shop and the owner helped me right away, I told him I wanted a no-frills rack and the new tire, he said to come back in an hour, and off I went.
I puttered around at home for a bit, Helene returned from her weekend job and I caught her up on the neighborhood gossip, and I made plans to walk later with my friend Lance. By now, my sunburn had reduced to a minor discomfort, looking far worse than it actually felt and I was up for another day of exercise.
I returned to the shop to retrieve my bike, forgetting to bring the claim check that was still on my kitchen table, but they knew which one was mine and I settled up, hopped on, and rode home. I gave it the once over when I got back, it was well worth the money for the new tire and the rack although they did tell me I had to lose the adjustable seat option, the clamp got in the way of the new rack supports. I never used it anyway so it was a small loss.
But by now my curiosity was getting the better of me. What did he mean about having an 'expensive bike'? I decided to look up my model, gleaning the information from the decals that cover the frame, It was an older model but I found it with very little effort. Evidently it retailed brand new at five hundred dollars. Although it wasn't what I would classify as expensive, it was far more than I originally paid and far more than I would have paid for any bicycle, especially at the financially-strapped time I bought it.
I'll say this, I'm glad I NEVER locked it up outside overnight from the moment I bought it!
The rest of the day went smoothly, I hadn't seen Lance since before the weekend and I was eager to catch up, and we had a nice power walk up and down the boards.
By nine o'clock at night, though, my exhaustion was getting the better of me. I was able to catch the first hour of the second episode of 'Grant', the new docudrama on the History Channel about the famous general and president before I passed out and slept straight through the night.
26 May 2020
The Memorial Day (More Holiday/Less Patriotism Version)
Because of the pandemic, I have been hibernating on the weekends to avoid the crowds of shoobies flooding down to the area like our own little Biblical plague. Especially this past weekend, since the Memorial Day holiday is usually the unofficial opening of the summer season. The weekend was a bit of a washout, weather-wise, and most people stayed away. The fact that there was parking in my neighborhood all through the weekend was a shocking sight to see! So when it came to Memorial Day Monday, I readily accepted the offer to go bike riding with my friend Charity. The skies were overcast, the winds were negligible, I thought it would be advantageous to get a quick eight miles in and then go home to do... well... nothing. I was supposed to meet her on the Boardwalk about halfway so I got ready and ventured out, quickly making my way to the Atlantic City border to hop on the Boardwalk there, since the Ventnor boardwalk is still prohibiting bicycles until next weekend (editor's note: The Boardwalk in Atlantic City is considered an official thoroughfare so it gets capitalized like a street name). To my surprise, it was far busier than I had anticipated. I had expected most of the tourists to go home by Monday and I was wrong. There were people everywhere, families, groups, bicycles, strollers, skateboarders (more on that later), and those just enjoying the benches watching everyone stroll or ride by.
I wound my way through the crowds, slowing here and there to let people pass, and then picking up the pace whenever I found a break. I'm a bit of a speed demon on my bike, as I've discussed before in this blog, and being hampered by all the shoobies was annoying me. Especially since I wasn't expecting so many of them to hang on through the holiday. But once I hit Albany Avenue, where the AC Boardwalk doubles in width, I was able to weave through the throngs of people with relative ease. As I was going along, I kept a lookout for Charity's distinctive blue bike color but, as it always happens, you realize how popular her bike color actually is when you're looking for that particular hue and I was staring down everyone that came towards me thinking it might be her. Before I knew it, I was already at the other end of the Island of Love and I hopped off the boards at the Ocean Casino and down the two blocks to her complex, texting her the usual Where are you? messages. I rested outside waiting for her to get ready, doing the usual content uploads to my social media pages, the obligatory photos of me and my bike with hashtags and shares. She eventually arrived and off we went, without any coherent idea where the day would take us.
We decided to go straight up to the end of the island to the Boardwalk above New Hampshire Ave, and hop on from there. This end of the boards is usually less populated, the housing density in that area and the lack of boardwalk-centric businesses are the biggest reasons. It's a great place to fish from, though, with the jetties all along the Inlet and the fact that the water comes right under the Boardwalk in a lot of places along there. We made our way past the sparse crowds and took the bend around, where the Boardwalk meets the first set of casinos and that's where the crowds really picked up. For the most part, we were able to ride side-by-side and keep up conversation, it was really rather lovely out despite the overcast skies and the extra tourists.
Once we got to Stockton's campus, we turned around and started our way back, the narrower part of the boards beyond that point was a little too crowded. Now that did a circuit, I figured I'd go back for one more and the return trip was much like the first and we chatted and rode in leisure all the way back to the Showboat, turning around once again. Of course, we noticed that a few of the 'watering holes' had opened along the world famous boards and, since we are who we are, we decided to take a break at the Steel Pier bar and get an adult canned beverage, since that's all they were selling under the new pandemic guidelines. We found some empty benches along the ocean and sat there enjoying our surprisingly refreshing beverages, safely six feet away from anyone else. We people-watched, since that's what you do, and mulled over where our next stop would be. Hopping on our bikes, we moseyed along and before we knew it, we were all the way down by the Ocean Club condos (Hi, Roland and Cathy!). We saw that the Celebrity Bar was open and, since we are celebrities, we decided to get another libation, claiming one of the nearby benches again as our base of operations. I watched with great curiosity as to how they were preparing cocktails, with the new rules and the laws against open containers (I kept saying 'open carry' and Charity had to constantly remind me that was about guns), mixed drinks had to be served in sealed containers. It absolved the bar of serving an open container, and it solved the issue of making money by selling the very thing they make money from. Win/Win in my book. But I was also gathering intelligence, so to speak, since we're probably going to be opening my bar, the VÜE, sooner rather than later. This end of the boards seem to have an unlimited supply of people to watch and we set up camp and talked massive shit on everyone that came into view! After a few rounds, we decided we were hungry and ordered some overpriced boardwalk food and I noticed that the sun had come out and I knew in the back of my reasonable mind that I would be regretting my decision to stay outside instead of pedaling home to safety from the lethal rays of the sun.
The alcohol helped. We had a brilliant time there and the hours flew by but we were getting restless and decided to see what our friend Michelle Tomko was up to, since she's always out and about doing something in the city. We found out she was on Tennessee Ave. hosting an outdoor car-concert, yet another of the 'new normal' situations that have been invented during these pandemic times. Back on our bikes, we (more) carefully made our way back uptown. Of course, we quickly found that Rhythm & Spirits was open for business (serving sealed cocktails to go) so we ordered two and made our way back to chat with Michelle. Selfies, gossip, pandemic talk ensued and then Charity and I found yet our third spot on the boards to sit and enjoy the late afternoon. We commenced the people watching/judging immediately.
But by now, the full sunshine and the beverages had gotten the better of me and I was itching to go home. We bid our farewells and each pedaled off in opposite directions, although now I was regretting coming this far back uptown, it meant a much longer ride home, and not a full-capacity.
Although I had my misgivings, the ride home was really rather nice, the crowds had thinned out considerable, it was by now dinnertime after all, so I was able to pick up some good speed here and there, as my exercise app kept reminding me, 'Your current speed is 17.4 mph. Your average speed is 9.8 mph. You have reached 14 miles in distance. You have reached your original goal.' I remember this because this is where my excellent day took bit of a bad turn.
The app was telling me this as I was speeding down past the shuttered Atlantic Club building and quickly entering that area of the Boardwalk I previously alluded to above, where it goes down to two 'lanes' so to speak. Directly in front of me, on the wrong side, was a skateboarder who, for some unknown reason (stupidity? brain damage? shoobie?) wasn't veering out of my way and I was going way too fast to stop in enough time. He jumped off his skateboard which proceeded to slam into my front tire and I skidded to a stop. The young man (20's I guess) asked if I was okay, I said 'Yes' and added an 'Asshole' for good measure and then continued on my way home. I got two blocks before I realized he had popped my front tire with his skateboard and I now was forced to walk the remaining ten blocks home to Ventnor, all of my day-long good feelings quickly evaporated during my humble stroll with a wounded bicycle.
Truth be told, I was planning to replace that tire anyway, constant use had worn away the tread. That's why I knew I was in for an accident at that moment on the boards, there was no way I could have stopped in time. And that's why I didn't pound the crap out of that kid.
Once home, I cleaned up, got changed and assessed the damage, both to my bike and my skin. It didn't take long to determine I had gotten quite a bit of sunburn and was going to have to get my bike fixed in the morning. After a quick dinner of leftovers, I attended to my burns and turned in early.
Even though it wasn't how I preferred the day to end, was still an rather excellent holiday!
We decided to go straight up to the end of the island to the Boardwalk above New Hampshire Ave, and hop on from there. This end of the boards is usually less populated, the housing density in that area and the lack of boardwalk-centric businesses are the biggest reasons. It's a great place to fish from, though, with the jetties all along the Inlet and the fact that the water comes right under the Boardwalk in a lot of places along there. We made our way past the sparse crowds and took the bend around, where the Boardwalk meets the first set of casinos and that's where the crowds really picked up. For the most part, we were able to ride side-by-side and keep up conversation, it was really rather lovely out despite the overcast skies and the extra tourists.
Once we got to Stockton's campus, we turned around and started our way back, the narrower part of the boards beyond that point was a little too crowded. Now that did a circuit, I figured I'd go back for one more and the return trip was much like the first and we chatted and rode in leisure all the way back to the Showboat, turning around once again. Of course, we noticed that a few of the 'watering holes' had opened along the world famous boards and, since we are who we are, we decided to take a break at the Steel Pier bar and get an adult canned beverage, since that's all they were selling under the new pandemic guidelines. We found some empty benches along the ocean and sat there enjoying our surprisingly refreshing beverages, safely six feet away from anyone else. We people-watched, since that's what you do, and mulled over where our next stop would be. Hopping on our bikes, we moseyed along and before we knew it, we were all the way down by the Ocean Club condos (Hi, Roland and Cathy!). We saw that the Celebrity Bar was open and, since we are celebrities, we decided to get another libation, claiming one of the nearby benches again as our base of operations. I watched with great curiosity as to how they were preparing cocktails, with the new rules and the laws against open containers (I kept saying 'open carry' and Charity had to constantly remind me that was about guns), mixed drinks had to be served in sealed containers. It absolved the bar of serving an open container, and it solved the issue of making money by selling the very thing they make money from. Win/Win in my book. But I was also gathering intelligence, so to speak, since we're probably going to be opening my bar, the VÜE, sooner rather than later. This end of the boards seem to have an unlimited supply of people to watch and we set up camp and talked massive shit on everyone that came into view! After a few rounds, we decided we were hungry and ordered some overpriced boardwalk food and I noticed that the sun had come out and I knew in the back of my reasonable mind that I would be regretting my decision to stay outside instead of pedaling home to safety from the lethal rays of the sun.
The alcohol helped. We had a brilliant time there and the hours flew by but we were getting restless and decided to see what our friend Michelle Tomko was up to, since she's always out and about doing something in the city. We found out she was on Tennessee Ave. hosting an outdoor car-concert, yet another of the 'new normal' situations that have been invented during these pandemic times. Back on our bikes, we (more) carefully made our way back uptown. Of course, we quickly found that Rhythm & Spirits was open for business (serving sealed cocktails to go) so we ordered two and made our way back to chat with Michelle. Selfies, gossip, pandemic talk ensued and then Charity and I found yet our third spot on the boards to sit and enjoy the late afternoon. We commenced the people watching/judging immediately.
But by now, the full sunshine and the beverages had gotten the better of me and I was itching to go home. We bid our farewells and each pedaled off in opposite directions, although now I was regretting coming this far back uptown, it meant a much longer ride home, and not a full-capacity.
Although I had my misgivings, the ride home was really rather nice, the crowds had thinned out considerable, it was by now dinnertime after all, so I was able to pick up some good speed here and there, as my exercise app kept reminding me, 'Your current speed is 17.4 mph. Your average speed is 9.8 mph. You have reached 14 miles in distance. You have reached your original goal.' I remember this because this is where my excellent day took bit of a bad turn.
The app was telling me this as I was speeding down past the shuttered Atlantic Club building and quickly entering that area of the Boardwalk I previously alluded to above, where it goes down to two 'lanes' so to speak. Directly in front of me, on the wrong side, was a skateboarder who, for some unknown reason (stupidity? brain damage? shoobie?) wasn't veering out of my way and I was going way too fast to stop in enough time. He jumped off his skateboard which proceeded to slam into my front tire and I skidded to a stop. The young man (20's I guess) asked if I was okay, I said 'Yes' and added an 'Asshole' for good measure and then continued on my way home. I got two blocks before I realized he had popped my front tire with his skateboard and I now was forced to walk the remaining ten blocks home to Ventnor, all of my day-long good feelings quickly evaporated during my humble stroll with a wounded bicycle.
Truth be told, I was planning to replace that tire anyway, constant use had worn away the tread. That's why I knew I was in for an accident at that moment on the boards, there was no way I could have stopped in time. And that's why I didn't pound the crap out of that kid.
Once home, I cleaned up, got changed and assessed the damage, both to my bike and my skin. It didn't take long to determine I had gotten quite a bit of sunburn and was going to have to get my bike fixed in the morning. After a quick dinner of leftovers, I attended to my burns and turned in early.
Even though it wasn't how I preferred the day to end, was still an rather excellent holiday!
25 May 2020
Unexpected Windfall
There is one thing that has been blessedly saved and simultaneously damaged by this novel coronavirus, and that thing is my bank account. Which is one of the stranger 'symptoms' of this pandemic. I'm not making more than my former salary, it's roughly the same, and that twelve hundred dollar stimulus check helped but it's been long spent on rent and bills. The curious thing about this pandemic is that I am out of work and still making money and my roommate is working. Which is a great relief, since I've been singularly supporting our little household for quite a long time. I was happy to do so for the first few months but it started to get harder and harder to work sixty hours a week and not have a single thing to show for it aside from a roof over our heads and the usual amenities of heat and electric. But now I'm in the unusual paradox of having a regular income, discretionary spending money, and no where to go and spend it! Being the social creature that I am, along with the fact that as a bar/restaurant manager who enjoys supporting my fellow bars and restaurants, I liked going out several times a week to spread the love which is now impossible with the stay-at-home executive orders.
But it hasn't stopped me from shopping online like many, many other Americans, which is where the damage comes in. The laptop I'm writing this entry on is an example of that. I finally had enough to buy a new one, something I had only wished for ever since my old one started acting up a year ago (broken internal fan, longer and longer load times, mysterious crashing incidents). And then there's my Amazon wishlist, which is no longer there. I emptied that out in one fell swoop. I've been on a spending spree like no other, probably making up for the lost time but I will pat myself on the back for finding good deals and curbing my impulse buys as much as humanly possible. Although when you come over and hear the surround sound of my linked Bluetooth speakers, you might have a convincing counter argument to that last statement. I am glad that I'll be able to get some much needed upgrades done to my bicycle, that was a 'need' and not a 'want' that I've been avoiding for a while.
I'm lucky, I know. The system worked for me. I planned out my coronavirus post-work financials and it worked to my advantage. Here's hoping that those who haven't will get their stimulus checks and finally get their unemployment money soon.
But it hasn't stopped me from shopping online like many, many other Americans, which is where the damage comes in. The laptop I'm writing this entry on is an example of that. I finally had enough to buy a new one, something I had only wished for ever since my old one started acting up a year ago (broken internal fan, longer and longer load times, mysterious crashing incidents). And then there's my Amazon wishlist, which is no longer there. I emptied that out in one fell swoop. I've been on a spending spree like no other, probably making up for the lost time but I will pat myself on the back for finding good deals and curbing my impulse buys as much as humanly possible. Although when you come over and hear the surround sound of my linked Bluetooth speakers, you might have a convincing counter argument to that last statement. I am glad that I'll be able to get some much needed upgrades done to my bicycle, that was a 'need' and not a 'want' that I've been avoiding for a while.
I'm lucky, I know. The system worked for me. I planned out my coronavirus post-work financials and it worked to my advantage. Here's hoping that those who haven't will get their stimulus checks and finally get their unemployment money soon.
22 May 2020
Stuff And Pandemic Stuff
A novel coronavirus has gripped the world, changing the lives of Apple factory workers in China to lifeguards in Australia, drag performers in Brooklyn to schoolteachers in Brazil. It's the global scale of this outbreak that I have to keep reminding myself of whenever I get the woe-is-me blues. Although the death rates have a way of keeping you humbled and focused, especially here in the US, I am thankful we have such dedicated healthcare workers and damn good medical care in this country. It was the only bulwark we had to stop the tsunami of death that could have washed over us and kept the numbers in the tens of thousands (over 95,000 at the time of this writing) instead of the projected millions we might have had to bury. I'm not in a mood to rage over the politics of our government's response right now, I'll save that for another post.
I wanted to add my story to the chorus of voices who's lives and futures have changed considerably because of this virus, and remember what could have been. Yes, this is the woe-is-me part.
Working at the Claridge has been an amazing experience, I love working in an old hotel. The history and beauty, the quirks and problems, made it a job like no other. I had come from opening casinos, brand spanking new buildings, state of the art design for the guests as well as the staff, unlimited resources for my department, I had always been pampered by the regiment and routine of working under so much scrutiny and procedure, every day was like the last and change came gradually and without the usual bugs and problems that comes along with it. It had already been done somewhere else, we just applied it seamlessly to our daily routines. Even when I began my performing career, I adopted a lot of what I learned from my regimented routines at the casinos and adapted them to being a drag queen. I kept a journal of what songs I performed, my guests, how much I made in tips, what I wore, the weather, my outfits were always carefully coordinated and streamlined, the song list adjusted to account for the costume changes. Even the rare hiccup, like a no-show guest performer was hardly a problem, I would just ask one of the dozens of drag queens sitting at the bar to fill in for the night. About the only thing that wasn't scripted and planned was my monologue, and you never knew where I was going to go with that. Hell, I never knew what was going to come out of my mouth most of the time. And bartending at the Studio was also pretty routine, for all the madness that swirled around that place. I got to work, had a few drinks, made a lot of money, had a lot of fun, went home. Repeat.
And then along came the Claridge. It's a well-worn story about how I thought I was just working that one New Year's Eve and ended up staying there for what is now over five years later. But in the beginning, it started out as just another bartending gig. Worked in the little gay club we had going, settled in, and tried to build the business. All the usual stuff. It wasn't long, though, before I realised the Claridge was going to be a different animal from what I was used to.
You have to remember, the hotel hadn't been in private hands for decades. Even though it was still open and running all this time, it was only being used as a hotel tower for Bally's, all the public areas were closed off and not in use. Once it was sold to the current owners, and some extensive renovations were made, did it begin life again as a boutique hotel. And as with all 'new' properties, there were the usual growing pains. The first few years saw so many management changes, I quickly lost count of all the direct managers I had, not to mention those among the executive level. It seriously go to the point where I just called them by their number and not their name, that's how quickly we were going through them. Now, this amount of change has a lot of issues that come with it. Every manager and general manager had their own stamp they wanted to put down and everything had to change with the new regime. When one GM decided to close down my little bar, I was cast adrift into the banquet system, and for the first time in a very long time, I was unmoored. My manager at the time was... quirky... in his management style. He basically would tell all of us to come in at some specified time and then he would dole out assignments. One day I'd be working outside in the park for Reggae Night, the next I'd be working a wedding, the next I would be bartending a hip-hop party in the ballroom. Many days, we'd come in at that specified time and have to wait all day before our event began, it was an odd way to work but it taught me a lot about adaptability. The VÜE was under construction and somehow I was passed over to bartend up there once it opened but I slogged on in the trenches throughout the building and in banquets until, eventually, I was noticed by our newest (and best) manager and she put me behind the bar with Jerry and the rest was history. Well, kind of. We had a lot of work to do to get our name out there and we didn't have the best suited upper-level management at the time. The realities of a rooftop bar in summer-touristy Atlantic City clashed with the expectations of New York-style management who didn't understand the local market. Or the weather. Or the clientele. Or the city. Or the staff. And another succession of bar managers came and went until, finally, reality set in and some big changes were made at the upper level. By then, I had been asked to become the bar manager a few times but I had always turned them down. I had expected to take the position at some point but I wasn't ready yet. Once they cleared house, though, I was kind of trapped into it. In a good way, though, it was my own (positive) undoing and I take full responsibility for all of it. And I was excited and terrified at the same time. A combination of emotions that convinced me I was making the right decision. Thankfully, I was promoted in the fall, it was a good time to take the reigns, learn the job, figure out what I was supposed to do. That was another curve ball, I often laughed when the other hotel managers would ask me to do something, office worker wise, and I'd give them a blank stare. They were so used to me being around for years, and managing in-between actual managers, that they forgot I didn't really know spreadsheets from share drives. So going into the slow holiday winter season was perfect timing, I was able to focus on learning the office-end of managing so I could be better prepared for my first summer at the helm. Things were going well, after the usual lull of December and January, the temperate winter weather was working to our advantage. I noticed that, as each weekend went by, we were a little busier and busier. More so than the years before, and not only at the VÜE, but throughout the hotel. Our sales team was booking a lot of events and weddings and there were some weekends where banquets would be cleaning an event space from one party and setting up for a wedding in the same space. It was good trouble, as we say, and all the signs were pointing to a good season to come. I had events lined up, and some in the pipeline for the bar. We were getting new deck furniture, building an outdoor bar for the guests, everything was looking up! That's when we began to hear about this viral outbreak in China. Although it wasn't reported on alarmingly in the beginning, I remember thinking that if this spreads, the fear of it would be problematic. Stupid me had the high-hopes that we'd (medical science) figure it all out and it would be contained just like the Ebola outbreak of four years ago. Tragic, but localized. In short order, though, it was turning into something else. The staff kept asking me what I thought, and I was honest. I said that if it becomes a pandemic, even if it's not that deadly, the fear of getting sick will drive business away more than the probability of it. Again, here I was trying to look on the bright side and minimizing how dangerous this particular virus eventually became. But I was very worried for my staff and the business losing money. Through February and the beginning of March, though, we were still doing really well, every weekend was a little better than the last and the staff and I were getting really optimistic about the summer to come. And that's where all ended. Telling the staff we were closing was a really hard thing to do but to their amazing credit, they all took it in stride. It's not like they didn't see the writing on the wall. But, because I was the manager, I had to stay on and get the bar closed down for the duration and that ended up being a lot harder than I expected. Every day would be beautiful, the sun shining, the temperatures warming, and here I was throwing out all the perishables and securing the liquor and packing away all the furniture for an undetermined amount of time. I kept thinking of what was supposed to be happening but every day I was doing the exact opposite. It was surreal, especially for someone who's entire working life in the service industry has been based around the tourist season. I freely admit, I cried a little on my last day up there. I went from the pie-eyed goal of increasing our revenues by a third for the year to losing all the momentum we were building to put the VÜE on the map in this city. It was devastating. Now here is where I remind myself that at least my staff, our guests, and I am alive and healthy to start all over again. The entire world was brought to its knees and far too many didn't have the opportunity to survive and complain. But it still hurts to ponder the what ifs. The could of beens. The lost time. The rotten timing. As it stands today, we are looking to reopen once we get consensus from our local and state governments which might be sooner rather than later. I'm hoping against hope we will, eventually, regain the momentum we had and get this rolling again. I have the best staff in the business. If we can only go up from here, I'm damn glad we have a 23 story head start!
I wanted to add my story to the chorus of voices who's lives and futures have changed considerably because of this virus, and remember what could have been. Yes, this is the woe-is-me part.
Working at the Claridge has been an amazing experience, I love working in an old hotel. The history and beauty, the quirks and problems, made it a job like no other. I had come from opening casinos, brand spanking new buildings, state of the art design for the guests as well as the staff, unlimited resources for my department, I had always been pampered by the regiment and routine of working under so much scrutiny and procedure, every day was like the last and change came gradually and without the usual bugs and problems that comes along with it. It had already been done somewhere else, we just applied it seamlessly to our daily routines. Even when I began my performing career, I adopted a lot of what I learned from my regimented routines at the casinos and adapted them to being a drag queen. I kept a journal of what songs I performed, my guests, how much I made in tips, what I wore, the weather, my outfits were always carefully coordinated and streamlined, the song list adjusted to account for the costume changes. Even the rare hiccup, like a no-show guest performer was hardly a problem, I would just ask one of the dozens of drag queens sitting at the bar to fill in for the night. About the only thing that wasn't scripted and planned was my monologue, and you never knew where I was going to go with that. Hell, I never knew what was going to come out of my mouth most of the time. And bartending at the Studio was also pretty routine, for all the madness that swirled around that place. I got to work, had a few drinks, made a lot of money, had a lot of fun, went home. Repeat.
And then along came the Claridge. It's a well-worn story about how I thought I was just working that one New Year's Eve and ended up staying there for what is now over five years later. But in the beginning, it started out as just another bartending gig. Worked in the little gay club we had going, settled in, and tried to build the business. All the usual stuff. It wasn't long, though, before I realised the Claridge was going to be a different animal from what I was used to.
You have to remember, the hotel hadn't been in private hands for decades. Even though it was still open and running all this time, it was only being used as a hotel tower for Bally's, all the public areas were closed off and not in use. Once it was sold to the current owners, and some extensive renovations were made, did it begin life again as a boutique hotel. And as with all 'new' properties, there were the usual growing pains. The first few years saw so many management changes, I quickly lost count of all the direct managers I had, not to mention those among the executive level. It seriously go to the point where I just called them by their number and not their name, that's how quickly we were going through them. Now, this amount of change has a lot of issues that come with it. Every manager and general manager had their own stamp they wanted to put down and everything had to change with the new regime. When one GM decided to close down my little bar, I was cast adrift into the banquet system, and for the first time in a very long time, I was unmoored. My manager at the time was... quirky... in his management style. He basically would tell all of us to come in at some specified time and then he would dole out assignments. One day I'd be working outside in the park for Reggae Night, the next I'd be working a wedding, the next I would be bartending a hip-hop party in the ballroom. Many days, we'd come in at that specified time and have to wait all day before our event began, it was an odd way to work but it taught me a lot about adaptability. The VÜE was under construction and somehow I was passed over to bartend up there once it opened but I slogged on in the trenches throughout the building and in banquets until, eventually, I was noticed by our newest (and best) manager and she put me behind the bar with Jerry and the rest was history. Well, kind of. We had a lot of work to do to get our name out there and we didn't have the best suited upper-level management at the time. The realities of a rooftop bar in summer-touristy Atlantic City clashed with the expectations of New York-style management who didn't understand the local market. Or the weather. Or the clientele. Or the city. Or the staff. And another succession of bar managers came and went until, finally, reality set in and some big changes were made at the upper level. By then, I had been asked to become the bar manager a few times but I had always turned them down. I had expected to take the position at some point but I wasn't ready yet. Once they cleared house, though, I was kind of trapped into it. In a good way, though, it was my own (positive) undoing and I take full responsibility for all of it. And I was excited and terrified at the same time. A combination of emotions that convinced me I was making the right decision. Thankfully, I was promoted in the fall, it was a good time to take the reigns, learn the job, figure out what I was supposed to do. That was another curve ball, I often laughed when the other hotel managers would ask me to do something, office worker wise, and I'd give them a blank stare. They were so used to me being around for years, and managing in-between actual managers, that they forgot I didn't really know spreadsheets from share drives. So going into the slow holiday winter season was perfect timing, I was able to focus on learning the office-end of managing so I could be better prepared for my first summer at the helm. Things were going well, after the usual lull of December and January, the temperate winter weather was working to our advantage. I noticed that, as each weekend went by, we were a little busier and busier. More so than the years before, and not only at the VÜE, but throughout the hotel. Our sales team was booking a lot of events and weddings and there were some weekends where banquets would be cleaning an event space from one party and setting up for a wedding in the same space. It was good trouble, as we say, and all the signs were pointing to a good season to come. I had events lined up, and some in the pipeline for the bar. We were getting new deck furniture, building an outdoor bar for the guests, everything was looking up! That's when we began to hear about this viral outbreak in China. Although it wasn't reported on alarmingly in the beginning, I remember thinking that if this spreads, the fear of it would be problematic. Stupid me had the high-hopes that we'd (medical science) figure it all out and it would be contained just like the Ebola outbreak of four years ago. Tragic, but localized. In short order, though, it was turning into something else. The staff kept asking me what I thought, and I was honest. I said that if it becomes a pandemic, even if it's not that deadly, the fear of getting sick will drive business away more than the probability of it. Again, here I was trying to look on the bright side and minimizing how dangerous this particular virus eventually became. But I was very worried for my staff and the business losing money. Through February and the beginning of March, though, we were still doing really well, every weekend was a little better than the last and the staff and I were getting really optimistic about the summer to come. And that's where all ended. Telling the staff we were closing was a really hard thing to do but to their amazing credit, they all took it in stride. It's not like they didn't see the writing on the wall. But, because I was the manager, I had to stay on and get the bar closed down for the duration and that ended up being a lot harder than I expected. Every day would be beautiful, the sun shining, the temperatures warming, and here I was throwing out all the perishables and securing the liquor and packing away all the furniture for an undetermined amount of time. I kept thinking of what was supposed to be happening but every day I was doing the exact opposite. It was surreal, especially for someone who's entire working life in the service industry has been based around the tourist season. I freely admit, I cried a little on my last day up there. I went from the pie-eyed goal of increasing our revenues by a third for the year to losing all the momentum we were building to put the VÜE on the map in this city. It was devastating. Now here is where I remind myself that at least my staff, our guests, and I am alive and healthy to start all over again. The entire world was brought to its knees and far too many didn't have the opportunity to survive and complain. But it still hurts to ponder the what ifs. The could of beens. The lost time. The rotten timing. As it stands today, we are looking to reopen once we get consensus from our local and state governments which might be sooner rather than later. I'm hoping against hope we will, eventually, regain the momentum we had and get this rolling again. I have the best staff in the business. If we can only go up from here, I'm damn glad we have a 23 story head start!
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