I've reached the top. Over three hours of drinks, mindless banter, soul-searching. This is it. After all of the fuss, the charming smiles, the bouncers and their threatening biceps. This is where I am...
I'm at a loss for words. The rooms are large and quiet, hush hush and laid back - like a library, only there's a bar. I don't know what I expected really. Circus freaks? Burlesque shows with buxom women cavorting in oversize champagne glasses? The Wizard of Oz? Justin Hemmes?
None of that is here. Just a bunch of guys and girls in nice clothes, drinking and chatting. Downstairs it was all go, go, go. There was wheeling and dealing, show-offs and what appeared to be organized crime members. Men with neck tatoos, luxury suits, and girls on both arms. Up here?
Everyone seems to be minding there own business.
I must've looked pretty dejected. I end up talking to a group of Swedes, lead by a strapping blonde boy named Oscar. We talk about a lot of things, he seems down to earth and genuine. He is obviously wealthy, but there is no gloating, no smirk, no air of entitlement. We have shots of Tequila and joke with his friends. After a while a bar tender calls last drinks. We share another shot and begin the spiraling journey back to earth. On the way down, with the house lights up, nobody looks as glamourous as they did a couple of hours ago. Just men and women, boys and girls. You can't tell who's worth a million dollars and who's worth ten. We are all just heading home, to rest our heads after a night out.
That's it.
