Brian will be missed… for a bit

The building where I live has a lobby that is custodied 24/7 by a staff of reasonably interesting characters. Some are friendlier than others, but none was as nice to me as Brian.

He used to tell me stories of the excesses of his youth, when New York was crazier and more dangerous. He burnt the candle on both ends back then, and that’s why he had some great stories to tell. I listened to a few of them, but the truth is that coming into or leaving the building was always the activity I was focused on. Thus, I rarely stayed for more than a couple of minutes talking to the doormen by the front desk.

Brian used to refer to me as his “hero”, because for a period of my life I came and went at all hours and with plenty of party company. With the passage of years those instances became less frequent, until they got replaced by only a few visitors for our little film club during the Covid pandemic. Nothing was the same after that. With the time for reflection that the epidemic afforded me, I concluded that I wanted to move towards a life of personal growth, health, tranquility, peace, and, mainly, greater closeness with the people who are important to me (family, close friends). I also had more serious thoughts about building a family of my own, whatever that may look like.

Brian, my favorite Doorman, my friend, died in June of 2024 after a long battle with several health issues. The notice of his death appeared in the building’s Newsletter, where he got mentioned throughout a mere one paragraph.

Brian was missed, but not for a long time. A few people in the building’s chat group mentioned him and sent the corresponding thoughts and prayers. Minutes later, someone send a note about an item for sale, and someone else asked about good construction contractors in the area. He wasn’t mentioned once ever again.

But Brian will be missed. Though I regret not staying longer to listen to his stories, I find solace in my memory of those conversations. He was a kind and lonely, soul. And his memory will carry on for a little bit longer through me, until I also become a paragraph in some organization’s Newsletter.

I was going to speak at an event in Mexico city and needed my beard trimmed a bit. Walked from the hotel looking for a barbershop and about half a mile later I found a little one. I was greeted warmly by the staff. They asked if I made an appointment. I said no. The place was almost empty, so they were able to accommodate me promptly.

The menu was long as it included different types and levels of haircuts, salon services, and several beauty products. The barber directed me to a chair and asked what I wanted. I said “give me ‘The Italian’, man”, the simplest, least expensive option.

As he prepared the equipment, he asked me if I wanted “The Ambassador”, which included neck massage and better products. I politely declined, since I didn’t think I needed anything besides the trimming.

“I hear you, sir. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that if you take The Ambassador, I will upgrade you to an off-the-menu special: The Double Ambassador”.

I hesitated. Was I being upsold? Or was I about to pass on a great bargain of the capillary variety?

Every interaction with others can turn into a deal and later its corresponding transaction if we let them. Sometimes it is hard to retain a shred of our humanity. However, there is no choice but to keep trying every day as if it was the last.

“Sure, let’s do the Double Ambassador”, I replied. “Life is short anyway, isn’t it?

“Yes, sir. We are reminded of that all the time around here”.