So, the two of us are walking along in London a few weeks ago. It’s gotten a little cold and we’re tired. Up ahead of us, we see The Ritz Hotel. Of course! That’s what we should do. We should stop in and get a drink at the Ritz.
We step into the lobby and start walking to the bar. This young guy, in his uniform, does a sidestep and blocks us.
“Can I help you?”
“Uh, yeah. We were gonna get a drink in the bar.”
“There’s a dress code. Gentlemen are required to wear a coat and tie.”
Say what? Really? To get a drink?
I’m wearing a stylish blazer and T-shirt, but I clearly fall short, so we slink away in defeat.
Do celebrities stay at the Ritz? Would they stop George Clooney and tell him to go back and get a tie?
The next day, three of us go to have afternoon tea at Claridge’s, one of the poshest services in London. We’re having a lovely time, when we spot someone taking a seat at a table across from us. It’s Steven Van Zandt. As in Little Steven and the Disciples of Soul. As in Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band. As in The Sopranos. It’s pretty obviously him, because he’s wearing his trademark bandana on his head and a multi-colored coat.
Screw the Ritz. This is clearly where the cool people are hanging out.