When my friend Maria and I were making plans not too long ago to hang out, she asked if I would like to meet her cousins who were coming in from Ireland. Karen, Claudine and Suzanne. Charming, pretty ladies with plenty of amusing stories to match. We all met up last night at Divine Bar East (244 E 51st Street, NYC) which is a multi-level tapas style restaurant and wine bar. The decor is very old-world European but be warned. The many stairs, turns and narrow walkways can get to be a bit of a challenge to say the least after a couple of glasses of sangria. The chrome light fixtures were a literal interpretation of ceiling fans with table fans welded on for effect.
The stories of family that rang around our little table were very entertaining. I heard tales of mistaking a reflection for another person only to realize the truth upon walking face first into the mirror. This was no match for the fact that one family member apparently thought babies came out of the bellybutton. Another was sure that babies were born flat and inflated once they come out. The fact that these were adults adds a little humorous irony.
Suzanne and I would occasionally pop out for a smoke. Each and every time, the hostess would say, “Thank you. Please come again,” as we left and, “Hello, welcome to Divine. Table for two?” as we returned. During one of these smoke breaks, Suzanne commented that she was impressed with how well I was holding up among all these girls. “Most blokes,” she said, “would be quiet in the corner. Rolling their eyes. Bored to tears.” I of course was having a grand time.
Back inside, the food was very tasty. Although I have to say they’re taking liberties with their bruschetta. Toasted Italian bread with gobs of goat cheese on top and tomatoes on the side. For beverages we had various selections of their delicious sangria. I had the Cranberry Cinnamon. A couple of the girls tried the Passion Fruit Banana. I also had a couple of pints of Youngs Stout. It’s a hearty, thick beer that I had not had in a few years. It brought back fond memories.
After Divine, we went to Mica (252 E 51st St, NYC) when I was struck with an odd feeling of deja-vu. I used to have a lot of fun in a place called Mica with an old friend named Karyn. One night we both got completely torn up on just two Long Island Ice Teas. An unheard of occurrence for us. Another night I was bamboozled by my own curiosity when I ordered a Johnny Walker Blue and had to stand stone-faced and appear unaffected as I paid the $35.00.
Before going in, Claudine and Suzanne insisted on getting their palms read at one of those bogus fortune teller places. They were told about upcoming fortune, marriage and she said Suzanne was a fighter. Now, I can punch a couple of holes in the fortune teller’s mystique. Suzanne was wearing an engagement ring. So predicting marriage was not a stretch. Impending fortune could mean anything and saying she’s a fighter. Hell, she’s Irish … again … not a stretch to call that.
Aside from the drunk who tried to impress the girls by jumping off the stairs and falling on his ass, we continued to have a delightful time. One thing that many New Yorkers take for granted is the bartending practice known as the free pour. Most bars in Europe precisely measure their booze to make mixed drinks. Which is why, in my opinion, no place beats NYC for mixed drinks. And these were pretty darned potent.
Somehow the subject of how expensive this or that was and Karen said, “For that I couldn’t even buy a Quarter of a Half of a Pair of Shoes!” I then tried to figure if this was an eighth of a pair or a sixteenth on just one shoe but the math hurt my brain. It became a recurring joke thru the night.
Maria convinced me to once before to go to Corner 51 (966 2nd Ave, NYC) with promises of young Asian women. However, when we got there, the place was empty save for the lone bartender. When she mentioned it again on this night, I figured we’d give it one more shot. I began laughing when, as we walked up to the bar, it was empty. Save again for that same bartender.
Karen asked the bartender, “Hi, what’s your name?”
“Dana,” he replied.
“Oh. That is a lovely name,” is what she hesitantly said. I later joked that what she was actually thinking was more like, “Dana?! That is a girl’s name. Do you realize you have a girl’s name?”
He proceeded to make us an assortment of strong concoctions including a most sour margarita and something called ‘1-900-Fuck You Up’ which tasted like fruit punch. It lived up to its name. I believe it was Suzanne, or perhaps Claudine who told me she was ‘locked’. This is another in my ever growing list of ways to say a person is drunk. I also learned, after they kept saying, “Ah, we’re just slaggin’ ya,” means they were busting my balls. I also learned that spending time with four women as fun as these makes me forget things. Like my bag which I left and had to go back for as we left each joint.
They kept talking about their impending slumber party, to which I half jokingly invited myself. Imagine my delight not too much later as I sat on the floor of Maria’s apartment with the girls getting ready to sleep while I inflated the air bed. The three sisters shared the queen bed, Maria and I shared the mostly inflated air bed. The under-inflation made it feel more like a waterbed or one of those bouncy castle things you’d see at children’s parties. Getting in and out was quite a trip.
In the morning I realized that Maria’s apartment has this odd ability to move stuff around. I mean how else did each of the sisters all lose items like one boot, a watch, a wallet and such? Somehow all the lost items ended up on opposite ends of the place. It was quite amusing to watch.
We went to John’s Cafe for breakfast. A tiny diner run by a friendly older guy named … well … John. After breakfast I headed home to feed the cat as the girls prepared for a day of shopping. I had every intention of going to work early, but after a very long wait for the bus, I was just not in the mood and decided to just lounge around all day and think about the funny stories and good times I had last night. What better reason to play hooky?
