Getaway day is upon us and the city will drain into the quaint countryside. Some will jet set to exotic locations, desperate to catch the last rays of summer. For the club world, there is no real Labor Day, or, for that matter, Christmas or New Years Eve, as all must work. Many will say that club people really don’t work. Just drink or par-tay with the fast crowd, but it just isn’t so. People were always shocked when I told them I worked day and night. They just assumed I showed up at 11PM, kissed models on the cheeks, and shook celebrities' hands. The successful nightlife operator is up early and stays up very late. I used to get up at 8AM and crash sometime around 5AM. I’d catch a nap once in awhile and sometimes on a Sunday grab 6 hours of sleep, but it was always a battle to find a free minute. I did that for over 20 years. I have a list of disgruntled wives and girlfriends to confirm, if you don’t believe me. People used to ask me “how do you do it?” and I would tell them about eating smart, drinking gallons of water, and enjoying the gifts I was given. I’d say “I figure I’ll get all the sleep I need in 20 or 30 years.” Nightlife depends on the thousand adjustments and phone calls and meetings that club moguls take daily. They often age like presidents, but for those who are strapped in and love it like I did, it can be the fountain of youth. Most club moguls don’t have off this weekend, as they have their country crowd to service, or that Sunday before Monday mega event to make work.

Waitrons and bartenders work from before a joint opens to sometimes hours after it closes. While many patrons are home with their heads in the clouds, pillows, or toilets, the service sector is dividing tips, wiping down bars, or even hanging with clients who can’t get enough. Many of these workers are going to school, or are working on their art or their future real world career. Work is what they do until they pass out. Many club people don’t retire to the bedroom, they just pass out at the kitchen table or on the couch. My dog would always wake me with licks and whines until I made it into the bedroom.

Busboys, barbacks, and such come in long before the pack and leave long after. They make a good living off minimum wage salaries and tips from above, but they work hard for their money. Promoters learn new ways to combat hangovers and fatigue. They have to be at lunches, brunches, cocktail parties, and such, and have multiple Blackberries and friends in need pulling them in different directions. Hard labor is very much a part of the world of clubs. For many, it is not the work they were meant to do. They are living those lives we see in Hollywood movies, chasing dreams of stardom and true romance. For many, they never get what they want—merely what they deserve, and getting out of the biz is a problem, but maybe the start of a solution. The hours are long, the pressures are great, relationships fleeting, the money unpredictable. Club work is not as glamorous and easy as some might think. It is often a very dirty job, but yes, somebody has to do it. Alas, not me, as I’m out of the game now and plan on walking puppies, rowing boats, and having picnics till Tuesday. Drive, fly, and play safe, and come back to see me real soon.