When you finally manage to surgically extract a friend from the East Village to venture into the 'burg, as I did on Saturday night, you just have to take what happens in stride...
H and his girl E came over for dinner. I made a lovely penne florentine and we hung out in my little apartment drinking beers before setting out on what would end up being a car service adventure with lots of high hilarity.
This was one of my "Christmas in Brooklyn" weekends (No-L), so not only was it a coup to get H out here, but he came willingly in a cab. This is a guy who practically needs TNT to be blasted away from the nexus of his life at 2nd Ave & 5th Street (one of those "I get nosebleeds above 14th Street" people), so I considered it a gift that he was willing to travel across the Big Water to the Land of Annoying Hipsters. It's the smallest things that make me happy.
Car Service Ride #1: First we headed to a Complacent Nation party/art event out at 313 Meserole...upon our arrival in the barren industrial wasteland known as "East Williamsburg" (Bushwick by any other name), we learned that the party had been moved around the corner to another space. This seemed to confuse our cab driver, even though a guy in another car had said, "I know where to go. Follow me." This had the inexplicable effect of making our cab driver go really slow.
Enter the party space after paying our $10. Get our hands stamped. This immediately makes me feel old, as hand stamps have that effect on me. We enter, and of course, as it is not yet 10:00 we are wayyyyy too early. We are the chaperones at the prom. We are the old folks in the room. H in his Columbia jacket, E in her perfectly-tailored black, and I in my Hellytech. We look like tourists from Colorado dropped into the middle of ArtWorld.
Well, we reasoned, let's look at the art and the self-consciously arty kids running around in their pirate costumes (um, kids, I may be old, but the pirate thing is playyyyyyyed out. Arrrrgh.) Time to flee the scene and head off to see R's pal Jay Collins' band playing in the hood.
Car Service Ride #2: Following the e-mail instructions provided, we proceeded to another address on Meserole St... and no Jay Collins! Turns out his instructions were BAD and we were supposed to go to Meserole Avenue. We had a drink in a restaurant that felt like the last outpost before indian country, Mojito-something. The owner was nice enough to plant us at the bar and call us another car service.
Car Service Ride #3: Meserole Avenue and Manhattan Ave. We walk into what is clearly an outpost for the Russian mob, and a decidedly unwelcome welcome by the earpiece wearing Mr. Clean lookin' thug. Ummmmmm - we seem to have missed Jay. We back away slowly from the gangsters and trot around the corner. Well, what the hell? Now we're in frickin GREENPOINT and have no idea what to do next. So, when in doubt, just get onto the next mode of public transportation that makes itself available.
B43 Bus: We don't know where it goes, but a quick look at the map at the bus stop shows a stop at Metropolitan and Driggs -- close enough to home that we hop on. Note to self: You don't want to be The Drunk People on a New York City bus... you tend to be the ones causing a scene in one way or another. Pure serendipity -- the bus is now going down Graham Avenue, back to Williamsburg!
We pour out of the bus gratefully and I steer our intrepid trio up the block to the Pour House. H feels as if he achieved drinkers' nirvana -- rock and roll on the juke, cold beer, a pool table, porn on the television and a back room where we can smoke with the bartenders' blessing!
It was an adventure, and if it hadn't been for the spirit of "oh well, we can't control this, let's roll with this," that pervaded the evening, someone would have thrown a hissy fit. But we were all in such high spirits that we were all unfazed by the spitballs being thrown at us by the universe. It was just High Plains Comedy from one end of the night to the other.
All in all, a fine, fun evening with good friends.
H, I really dig your girl, even if she thinks I'm a ho without a conscience...
No comments:
Post a Comment