Club Pardes

A man tries to gain entrance into Club Pardes, the most exclusive nightclub in town, but ponders after rejection and ends up somewhere else instead, a place that is more accepting.

I’m sitting on the sidewalk, just remembering the words that were just said to me. Man, what a f*****g bummer. I put on my best clothes, fixed my hair, looking the best I ever did so you’d think they’d forget about the reputation I have at this point and just let me in. As soon as I walked up to the door, this old man with long white hair checked my I.D. and then my face, and as soon as he looked up, I could already tell I wasn’t getting into Club Pardes.

- Sorry son, you’re not getting in.

I was taken aback, trying to understand why this was happening, despite the reputation.

- Why?

- Your reputation precedes you; you haven’t paid your dues at all the other clubs, we know of you, it wouldn’t be right for us to let you in.

- Look, I understand all of this but it was a very long time ago, I’m a changed man, I swear to you.

- How would we look if we let you in? Club Pardes is an exclusive club, only the best people the world has to offer can get in, we can’t let someone like you in, you’ve been known for being quite an insufferable person with absolutely no regard for all the other patrons or the staff at various clubs throughout the city. You have to pay your dues before we can let you in, you can’t expect to be let in solely because you’ve made an effort to look nice. The entrance to Club Pardes is worth more than your, admittedly, nice suit, it just can’t erase the countless times you have been reckless towards your fellows patrons. I apologize, but you will not be getting into Club Pardes, please step away from the line. Next!

I knew it was no use to argue. Club Pardes is known throughout the city, even the world, for being very difficult to get into. I looked at him, one last time, wanting to capture the moment in my mind, when I was standing in front of the doors of Club Pardes, with more hope than I’ve ever had in my entire life. This is sad, when I think about it, since Club Pardes, although is a nightclub, is run with a country-club attitude. To get in, I would have had to spend my whole life kissing a*s to the right people, acting like one of them, play along to theirs rules and codes. I didn’t though, I tried too, a little while back, but it was too late, like the old man said, my reputation precedes me, so even though I held out some hope that they’d be lenient towards letting me in, I knew it’d be difficult, but I believed. I light myself a cigarette and look at the people walking by, looking at me, knowing I’ve been denied entrance at Club Pardes, to which they’re on their way, where a few will get in and most will join me, here, on this sidewalk, where I'll offer them a cigarette, perhaps even an invitation for a drink.

I look back at Club Pardes, and it is beautiful. Apparently, Club Pardes is where the best drinks are drunk, where the finest women spend their time and where one night feels like an eternity of smiles and happiness. I look down at my feet, wondering what to do with the rest of my night, contemplating going home or make an attempt at sneaking into Club Pardes, which is, in all likelihood, impossible, and when you think about it, what I’ve just attempted to do.
I start making my way back home, taking the long way to enjoy the warm evening, on the lower part of the city. With only a couple blocks away from home, I see this bar, that has just recently opened, called Sheol decide to go in for one drink. The look of the bar surprises me as soon as I step in, because despite having just opened (I assume it must be new, as I’ve never seen it before), it looks old and rotten, although it is full of people, mostly beaten old drunks. I sit at the bar and order a beer and the bar man, who looks like he’s been getting slapped all over the face for the past hour since his face is so red.

- What can I get ya?

- Rum. Double.

He comes back quickly with my drink and I down it in one gulp and ask for another.  The bartender smiles.

- Hey man, I don’t mean to be rude, but you should pace yourself, you could be here for a while.

I nod and tell him that I won’t be staying too long but he laughs in a good-hearted manner and brings me another glass of rum.

- How was your night?

- Oh, y’know, s**t. Tried to get into Club Pardes but they wouldn’t let me in.

He looks me and mulls over what I just said, before looking back up at me and smiling.

- F**k that place, anyhow. Here, at Sheol, we’re not fancy and pompous, everyone can come in, there are no rules and absolutely no judgments. Most people here have tried to get into Club Pardes before as well, with about as much luck as you’ve had tonight. You can talk to them about it, they’ll understand you, just like I do. And I think that you’ll find, quickly enough, that you belong here.

I look around the bar, and despite the folks looking like s**t, they do seem to enjoying themselves and seem like a bunch of loveable saps. I take out a crumpled bill out of my pocket and hand it over to the bartender who refuses it, telling me that the drink’s on the house. He pulls out his hand and I shake it to let a warm and firm handshake take place, warming up to the idea of spending countless nights surrounded by those crazy b******s.