Yesterday, club mogul Noah Tepperberg celebrated his birthday at his very own Avenue. I was invited and texted and I promised to go, and had every intention to go. I’m sure they were all there, the lohan/paris/beyonce/ crew and many other dignitaries of the day, and of course, night. Everybody who was anybody must have gone and again, I really wanted to go but it was movie night at McCarren Park and they were featuring Point Break. I opted to watch Keanu, Patrick Swayze, Gary Busey and that sister chick from A League of Their Own instead of all the real life celebrities and movers and shakers that were twittering into my blackberry from Avenue. I sat on the concrete floor of the softball field instead of the plush banquettes of Avenue. I laughed at every line delivered by Keanu. The guy is cornier than Iowa. It was a guffaw-fest as they surfed and skydived, argued and punched each other’s lights out, and shot at each other and then surfed again. The crowd “wooo-hooed” at every turn, the loudest coming near the very end when Keanu, channeling Steve McQueen hard, delivered “Vaya Con Dios.”

Two weeks ago they showed Dead Man and last week Starship Troopers, and next week it’s director Jim Henson’s Labyrinth with Bowie and Jennifer Connelly. They served tacos and hot dogs and lobster rolls which of course doesn’t compare with the gastro fare at Avenue, but I am going through this period right now, this taco, hot dog, midlife crisis thingy. My obsession with everything Brooklyn seems to be my fourth midlife crisis. My third midlife crisis is a bottle server at Avenue, my second is well-documented, and my first was with the New Jersey state chewing gum champion and all around swell gal, Jeannie Lavullo, but that’s a story for another day.

As I walked over the Williamsburg Bridge back to Manhattan, I had every intention of wishing happy birthday to Noah in person. He’s a great guy and a true friend and I am so very happy for his success. I just wasn’t in the mood to celebrate success with conspicuously successful people. As I dodged bikers, absorbed new graffiti, and enjoyed a decidedly un-summer like breeze and the spectacular views from the bridge, Amanda and I talked of gin and beer and clubs and celebrities and being nice to each other and that amazing brownie ala mode we had at the DuMont on Bedford, that we were now burning off with our long walk. I was wishing I had ordered a burger instead, but it was indeed the best brownie ever. It really is a tale of two cities, this BK/Manhattan thing, and as we reached the “New York” side, I felt like walking back and staying. I didn’t feel like going to a soiree for swells at a super-sophisticated hot spot. I decided I was going home and I was thinking about moving to Brooklyn, which is so much cooler and funner and more relevant than Manhattan on almost every level. Manhattan has become a nice place to visit. Maybe it should be called the New Brooklyn, and maybe it should be “Old” York. I’m just sayin.’

Anyway, if I had gone to Avenue, I would have said “hey” to Wass and Richard and Andrew and everyone. I would exchange “hey’s” and “how are you’s” and “You look greats” and shake hands and nod at “friends” who sit at model-encased tables. I’d kiss my third midlife crisis on the cheeks and tell her how beautiful she looks and then I’d squirm my way through the monied mass to say happy birthday to Noah. As I said I didn’t make it so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOAH TEPPERBERG!!! You really haven’t had so many considering how far along your dream you have traveled, and I wish you continued success as you define it. Last night I defined my success with a warm bed, a warm girlfriend, a stomach warmed by brownie ala mode, puppies who loved their late night walk, a kiss of the cat and a diet root beer from the local deli. My fifth mid life crisis will definitely include diet root beer and brownies ala mode.

The cool breeze on the Williamsburg Bridge defined the end of the summer. In just a few weeks, it will get dark early again and the suit and leather jackets will cover most of my plaid and warm me against a wind that will become more determined. All over town, clubs are hustling to get ready for the fall and the return of the wealthy hordes from their country homes. There is new construction everywhere as the offering of “new,” according to Donald Draper, is the best way to sell something. Brand new brands will always get a look and old brands newly redone or with a new outlook will get another chance. People all over America are clamoring for change. I read that on Yahoo news. These days I only collect newspapers for the litter box. They’re ready to vote for anyone new—Newt Gingrich or even the Geico Gecko over a beloved old incumbent. The new joints including Noah Tepperberg’s Lavo and Richie and Scott’s restaurant The Darby, and Paul and Nur’s Don Hill's and a dozen others, will show us a new world of nighttime wonder. The Standard will be back to full form and subMercer will make me as happy as a newborn or newlywed. The newbie joints will redefine the New York scene. Investors faced with zero growth in their real estate and stock portfolios are gambling that the newest places will succeed over the older joints.

All over town there is new construction, new vigor, new vitality, as old joints strive to look newer. Operators are planning newfangled ways to service tables or new fashioned ways to run a door, while others are attempting new promotional directions like going for the nouveau riche rather than the old rich or the newbie hipsters, because the old school trendies are off on a new adventure. All are trying hard to avoid a nuclear winter and are wary of the new kids on the block. Some say they have been redone after spending 50 bucks on reupholstering a couch or painting a wall. I felt like saying “Funny, you don’t look newish” to a proud owner the other day. The summer is losing its battle with the earth’s spin. The inevitable march of time will bring a chilling change as it always does. Those selling new will have a good start while the tried and true will try to convince us that tried and true is better than new. A long time ago Walt Disney talked about his risky new endeavor. He summed up the situation nicely: “It's no secret that we were sticking just about every nickel we had on the chance that people would really be interested in something totally new and unique in the field of entertainment.” Walt did all right.