My friend Joy and I started our night at The Russian Samovar (256 W. 52nd St, NYC). We wanted to show support for their recently announced lawsuit against the TWU (Transit Workers Union). During the short, illegal strike many businesses lost substantial amounts of income thanks to the crippling of the city’s ability to move folks around. We toasted the proprietors with my usual cranberry/lemon mix (not on their menu, by the way).
After we walked over to Social (795 8th Ave, NYC) to meet Sean of MurphGuide.com and a other friends. Among them were Steven and John from my Ireland trip and Sean’s wife Jeanne. There were others in the place whose faces I knew but the names escaped me then … and now my memory is still a bit pickled. This night would be wind up being the unofficial, impromptu MurphGuide.com holiday party.
Joy had to leave early because, even though the transit strike was over, the subways were still not running. She had to walk to Penn Station (34th & 7th) to catch her train back to Jersey. I stayed for a while more since my commute was still fairly unaffected by the whole craziness.
Social is a large place. Three stories plus a roof deck. Irish pub, loud, crowded and welcoming. Of course it was voiced several times that we were glad to be up on the second floor. The street level can get overwhelming.
My usual first drink was Maker’s neat. Normally this adds up to about the same as what you’d get in a drink or on the rocks … just with no rocks to dilute the bourbon. Every so often I’d be handed a tad more than a double and feel treated. Last night i was handed what I can only describe as a quadruple. I was happy. Switched off to Guinness after that and I was feeling my holiday cheer growing.
I found myself inexplicably running downstairs and out the door without my jacket. I do know I was seriously jonesin’ for a smoke and I doubt it was a coincidence that the cute girl in the pink sweater I had been eying was out there. But, to quote myself as I got out side without my jacket, hat or whatever, “Damn it’s cold!” as I barrel thru the door. I asked the girl, “Can I get a smoke?” and the guy she was with hands me his cigarette. Odd I thought. This guy was not who you’d expect to be with such a looker, but who am I to judge. I take a few drags, we three chat about who knows what and he asks for the cigarette back. Odd again I thought. My face must’ve said it all because at that moment cute girl hands me her cigarette. A few more niceties and they’re gone. Back into the bar.
A sobering moment of realizing that the girl was not at all interested in knowing me and the guy thinking I’m an ass sets in. I then make my way back to my party and, realizing how difficult it was to get up the stairs to the second floor, I pretty much knew I was about done for the night. That is until someone bought me a Jack and Coke. I had a few sips but however hard I tried to prove otherwise to myself, it was time to go. I wished all a happy holiday and shuffled on down to catch my bus. To be honest I remember very little about getting to the Port Authority except being thankful that the bus came quickly. After nodding in and out of that annoying head-bobbing drunken napping, I was off the bus in Hoboken and walking home.
One really nice thing that came from the night was Sean asking me to return to the MurphGuide.com team. I had been writing for them from 12/04 thru 8/05. Then, after life got in the way of fun as it has been known to do, we lost touch. My reply to Sean’s question was that I can use the Hoboken gang’s New Year’s Eve at CBGB party as my ‘return’ article.
So look for me back over at MurphGuide.com real soon.
See Also:
The Russian Samovar
Social
MurphGuide.com
