My birthday bash at Avenue last night proved to be more fun than a barrel of monkeys. I am limp and drained and wonderful. I feel like a million yen.  Avenue asked me to throw my party there and I couldn't say no. The good people at Avenue/ Tao Strategic Group have been work associates, friends, and family from the good old days when I was that maniacal Steve Lewis guy. They put up with me then and celebrated me yesterday... in style.

Tonight I will celebrate a zillion years of enjoying what I do for a living. I am so much a creature of the night that I just may toast to my eons with Tru Blood, warm and straight from the bottle. I am having my birthday gala at Avenue, where I have many friends... where my friends are family. I will DJ for a few minutes some songs you will Shazam and know forever. The world is still filled with amazing stuff, yet undiscovered. There are some things I am sure about, and that includes the love and respect I am honored to have from many people I will see tonight. One of my oldest and dearest is Wass Stevens, who just a few days ago was totally wrecked in a motorcycle accident. In the surgery that followed, he received four screws, two in the heel, two in the ankle, and three pins etc., etc. Somehow, he will be at the door tonight greeting my friends. I asked him Why, how, wow? and he replied, "Nothing -  not a bike wreck, broken bones, nothing - could keep me away from the honor of working your birthday. Besides, we are two of only a handful of veterans left in this biz," and that "No one else would know four decades worth of your friends and night life acquaintances." Our friendship is one built on thousands of unique nights,  with boredom never a factor. We have helped each other through trying times, and seen things in each other that few have ever suspected. He has guided me when I wasn't listening to anyone and appreciated and supported me when the world was determined to extinguish my flame. I asked Wass about his recent tumble and what else is going on. He'll - we'll -  be at Avenue tonight if you are so inclined.

I attended the one-year anniversary of Avenue last night and it was indeed all things to those people. I popped in to pay respects, and was overwhelmed by a beautiful, relevant, and successful crowd. Although I always feel more comfortable in dive bars and hipster hangouts, there is no denying that Avenue, in it’s brief existence, has captured the hearts—and cash—of the bottle/model crowd. All things table service were honed and perfected at Noah, Jason, and Mark Packer’s joints, Marquee and Tao Vegas. While others have added their personal touch to the art of plying the goose from the ganders, as Carly Simon once put it, “nobody does it better” than this crew. On the way in I stopped to chat with my old friend Wass Stevens. As we talked about the ‘this and thats’ and ‘what have you been up tos,’ we were interrupted from time to time by a steady flow of the beautiful, the rich, and the connected as they passed through the velvet ropes. I asked him who was inside and he said, “everybody,” and proceeded to name names. Indeed, it was a cast of bold-face names that had your humble author shocked and awed. We don’t repeat the named names here. The old adage is, “those who can’t, teach,” and I stand by, "those who can’t write, gossip."

Last night I attended the wrap party of what might be remembered as one of the great clubs of the bottle era. In reality, the Cain we all knew closed a long time ago. The redux as Cain Luxe never caught on with the crowd owners Jamie Mulholland, Jayma Cardosa and Robert McKinley were accustomed to entertaining. The neighborhood, Chelsea, had died a quick death from enforcement malpractice after city zoning procedures changed the area from commercial to mixed use. The rebirth of Cain as Cain Luxe didn’t work and probably never could have. Perhaps last night signaled the end of an error.

Gone are the days of the grunting, cross-armed, meathead bouncer. Inspired by the example of revered nightlife fixture Gilbert Henry Stafford, the current generation of doormen are sophisticated and stylish toughs who adorn -- and block -- New York’s tightest doors.

We did it last year, when this interview series was borned, and back then our pal Rachel Uchitel was #2 to a doorman. No more! Half a million pageviews later, Rachel, you're second to none, but we're retiring your number. It's time to make way for the class of 2009.

When the proverbial chit hits the fan, who ya gonna call? The Ghostbusters are busy trying to get Bill Murray to do another one, and meanwhile you need a lawyer. In clubland there are many lawyers handling licensing and such, but in criminal cases -- which unfortunately sometimes arise (tell me about it) -- Sal E. Strazzullo stands ready. I've known Sal for a long time; we worked together in days of yore. While others saw nightlife as a career, Sal put himself through law school. He was often telling promoters and others to think of their futures and use the money they were making to prepare for a different life, as he was. Some listened ... others didn’t. Sal had an exit strategy and stuck to it. Now he handles high-profile cases, and I see him saying ”no comments” and lawyer things to reporters on the six o’clock news. His experience with nightlife gives him an insider's perspective, which can be invaluable in court. Sal’s journey using nightlife to pay for his tuition and books should underline the importance of nightlife work. The people making a living in clubs are often people going someplace else, building a future. They become actors, artist, photographers, mothers, writers, doctors -- even lawyers.

And the lord said to Noah, come with all your household into the ark, for I have seen you to be righteous (upright and in right standing) before me in this generation." Genesis 8

Striking a commanding pose atop a dimly lit balcony overlooking his newest nightlife venture, Wass Stevens keeps a critical eye on the imaginary crowd that will fill Avenue later tonight. Soon enough, the empty stage will be overrun with a new cast of characters hand-picked by the discerning doorman himself. "It's kind of an innate skill," Stevens says of his work at the door. "I read people to know is they are going to add or take away from the vibe once inside. Like acting, people are all about facade once the sun goes down." Though he orchestrates atmosphere at Avenue and the landmark club Marquee, by day he studies lines and tries his luck at movie auditions (and he's still mum about his recent spot of trouble with the law.)

I wasn't going to address the Wass Stevens "whacking the dude upside his head" story, but since it's on Page 6, I’ll weigh in with my usual cent-and-a-half of useful insight. I texted my old friend to see if he was all right, and he told me he was and thanked me for looking out. Small talk about the culinary offerings downtown aside, there isn't much to talk about. I did get a few phone calls from Strategic Group types who told me they weren't supposed to talk about it, but did I hear? Everyone heard. If you ask Wass what he does for a living, he would absolutely answer, “I’m an actor,” and he absolutely is. Small roles and herpes commercials have now become decent roles in decent movies and TV dramas. He is getting to the point where people on the street say he's an actor instead of a club doorman -- he's weighing the value and connections he garnishes within nightlife with his real career.