When we first signed the lease at 23 E A St, the excitement was palpable—this was the start of something new, a dream taking shape. But that joy quickly crumbled. The safety inspection was a disaster: fail after fail. The county inspector couldn’t believe the unapproved work that had been done. What was meant to be a fresh start turned into a waking nightmare. Mechanical engineers had to be brought in, while the county demanded custom-ordered ductwork that wouldn’t be available for six months. Design after design was rejected, leaving us trapped in an endless loop of inspections, approvals, and denials. Every step forward felt like climbing a mountain with no peak in sight.
Nearly a full year had gone by, and still, we couldn’t open. Rent was looming, and though we fought for concessions, we were drowning in zoning demands. Quotes for HVAC work ranged from $7,000 to $25,000, and as the contractors went silent, hope began to slip through our fingers. We balanced bartending shifts just to survive, pleading with the city and the landlords for a solution. The dream of opening Emporium 23 on 2-23-23 was fading, and by August, nearly eight months later, we were forced to face the truth. In a final meeting with the landlord, we made the heartbreaking decision not to renew the lease. What began with so much promise ended as a battle for survival—caught in a storm of red tape, broken promises, and a dream deferred.