Barely Before Sunrise
So after a month of weather that's been just disastrous for your average New Yorker on the town, the mercury settled in just above the freezing point and it was time to take to the streets...well...bars.
Friday evening I met friends Jessie and Bari for dinner. After wandering for a bit we managed to fine a new Thai restaurant on 4th Street in the East Village. Now, one never knows what to expect from new restaurants in this city, but when they take a ridiculously long time to bring you your entree, things aren't looking good. However, when they decide to make it up to you by bringing you an extra round of beers uttering the simple, yet magical, words "on the house" can we say "all is forgiven" in return?
Meeting your brother for drinks seems like a fairly quaint thing to do, doesn't it? I mean, you are keeping it in the family. Well, when you're brother is a Rififi regular, a bar known to keep going till after 5am many a weekend evening, don't expect to be an early bird. The dance party in the back, of the 80s/New Wave/etc. variety was going strong till 4:30, and I was stumbling out to hail a cab a few minutes after 5. I was snug in my bed by a little after 6, on an express train to slumberland just barely before sunrise.
Saturday I tried to keep it simple, staying in to rest until it was time to go to a friend's birthday gathering at Opaline, once again in the East Village. Mostly just your average dance evening, but one conversation had me concerned. At one point, good friend Domini turned to me to point out someone she described as "the cute white guy right over there." Somewhat oblivious to it all, I had to ask "which one?" When it became clear that she was pointing out one of the go go boys standing on an elevated platform wearing nothing but a g-string and knee-high boots, it got me thinking... Maybe there are certain things in life that I shouldn't be quite so accustomed to having around. Luckily I remembered that one should never mix deep introspection and Saturday nights, so I opted instead for a more appropriate mixer...another vodka tonic.
Friday evening I met friends Jessie and Bari for dinner. After wandering for a bit we managed to fine a new Thai restaurant on 4th Street in the East Village. Now, one never knows what to expect from new restaurants in this city, but when they take a ridiculously long time to bring you your entree, things aren't looking good. However, when they decide to make it up to you by bringing you an extra round of beers uttering the simple, yet magical, words "on the house" can we say "all is forgiven" in return?
Meeting your brother for drinks seems like a fairly quaint thing to do, doesn't it? I mean, you are keeping it in the family. Well, when you're brother is a Rififi regular, a bar known to keep going till after 5am many a weekend evening, don't expect to be an early bird. The dance party in the back, of the 80s/New Wave/etc. variety was going strong till 4:30, and I was stumbling out to hail a cab a few minutes after 5. I was snug in my bed by a little after 6, on an express train to slumberland just barely before sunrise.
Saturday I tried to keep it simple, staying in to rest until it was time to go to a friend's birthday gathering at Opaline, once again in the East Village. Mostly just your average dance evening, but one conversation had me concerned. At one point, good friend Domini turned to me to point out someone she described as "the cute white guy right over there." Somewhat oblivious to it all, I had to ask "which one?" When it became clear that she was pointing out one of the go go boys standing on an elevated platform wearing nothing but a g-string and knee-high boots, it got me thinking... Maybe there are certain things in life that I shouldn't be quite so accustomed to having around. Luckily I remembered that one should never mix deep introspection and Saturday nights, so I opted instead for a more appropriate mixer...another vodka tonic.
posted by Phil at
11:16 AM
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