So yesterday was the one game playoff, between Princeton and Harvard, for the Ivy League Championship and an automatic bid to the big dance. I was invited by my cousin to go to his alma mater, New York based Princeton club, to cheer on the Tigers. I had strict orders to wear a collared shirt, shoes and preferably a blazer, umm not normal sporting wear attire but I understood what I was getting myself into. I arrive at the midtown club and nervously hide my Star of David (or I would have if I had one), sign in and walk up to the 3rd floor Tiger Bar, again, GRRRRR. And boy was I happy I listened to my cousin about this dress code; I fit in totally, minus the flamboyant orange everyone was rocking. Starting talking to the junior president of the Princeton Club and he was trying to sell me on joining up. I guess the yacht look made me an attractive marketing guinea pig. Very nice guy, but his big selling points were the price (I guess actually a plus), amazing balcony (who cares?) and the location to midtown to come for dinner or drinks after work (what's work?). I've been on this ping pong and pool kick recently so I asked him if there was a gaming room. No dice. They took the pool table out after security found that the table was being used for more than just shooting pool. Impressive! I told him thanks but no thanks.
The more I think about, the more I think Soho House would be more up my alley. I might have an inside lead there; don't worry I won't blow anyones cover. But to get "accepted" to Soho House you need a schtick; no more hedge fund douche bags allowed. I bet they haven't had a 28 year older retiree before with business cards touting...."Hey, I'm retired at 28!"
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