I was in New York City on a business trip when I went into the now notorious Emperor’s Club. This diary is about my experience there.
I was in need of a drink after a hard day in the city. I saw a discrete sign saying the Emperor’s Club. A fancy name for a bar, but none the less I didn’t know the neighborhood and didn’t want to wander around looking for one.

I entered and was surprised to not see a bar, just a few leather chairs like an old fashioned British club. Nice, I thought.

“May I help you?” an elegant woman asked, looking me up and down as if I had stumbled into the wrong place. I get that a lot.

“I just want a quick one,” I said, looking forward to a shot of Crown Royal Special Reserve. Long time readers might recall my love for the “Special Reserve.”

“We don’t normally accomodate walk-ins,” she said.

That’s weird for a bar, I thought. But I didn’t want to say anything and show I was a bumpkin not used to the city ways.

“I have the money,” interpretting her earlier look as concern for my ability to pay. As I said, I’m used to that look.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll send someone over.”

So it’s one of those fancy bars with waitresses, I thought. Nice.

I waited and an elegant, lovely woman came over. “What would you like?” she asked.

I felt tongue-tied by her beauty. “Special,” I said before stammering.

“That’ll be $5,000,” she purred.

Holy shit! I thought. I knew a drink in New York would cost more than back home, but that was outrageous price gouging. I got up to leave and was already composing my email to Elliott Spitzer, who I knew was strong on consumer protection, when I saw him enter. I smiled at him as I passed him on my way out the door.

He was already on the case.