My Asian fetish was doing backflips
NYC uses an assortment of blockade devices in an attempt to move the crowds along in a orderly fashion on New Year’s Eve. There are blue wooden police horses, sections of silver metal resembling crib sides and large white slabs of concrete among other items. Since this can be quite a daunting task, they start a couple of days early. This tends to generate such a feeling of unrest among the tourists that they form pockets of confused globs clogging up the flow of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk. Weeding out the New Yorkers in this situation is easy. They are the ones walking in the street.
Last night I was navigating these barricades and people from 50th street, down 8th avenue on my way to 30th street. Yeah I know … how foolish to walk that stretch this time of year. I should have gone with my first idea of walking over to 9th ave to avoid the insanity. Had I done that though, I would have missed the brush of Nathan Lane’s overcoat as he whisked on by me. I find it oddly comforting that he could move so stealth-like thru this sea of excitement-hungry gawkers. I wondered for a moment where he was going. The Odd Couple doesn’t show on Thursday nights. Still I kept walking, passing by a most unusual, surreal vision of the Post Office completely draped in a white mesh cloth.
I was in my way to Vesta (390 8th Ave, NYC) on the recommendation of my friend Ronny. We both work for the same company and had the same idea that those of us who were stuck working this week should get together for drinks.
I was greeted at the door by a very pretty and fairly drunk girl asking if I was 16. I said, “Yes.”
She replied, “Sorry, you have to be 20 to come in. Are you 20?”
“Yes”
“OK, you can come in.”
Thru the large modern door into the chichi room, this place had my Asian fetish doing back flips in my head. Inside there was a bevy of hot Asian girls, most notably the tight, sexy bar staff. I honestly didn’t mind the fact that one girl had to lean in close and ask me three times to repeat my order. “Jack & Coke, Stoli Raspberry & Ginger, Vodka & Cranberry”. I was quite happy standing there watching as she searched for the booze and as the other two girls tried to resolve some cash register problem.
The place has only been open for a couple of months and its ultra modern red walls and bar look like something out or Star Trek. White minimal barstools, under-lit bar top, a wall of flat screens make up the front room. The second half is more lounge-like with leather couch-like benches, ottomans and tables all still with that white, sci-fi feel. One loan green laser danced spastic on the faces of whoever sat opposite the wall of mirrors. The video DJ filled the place with dance beats and MTV visuals both new and classic.
The ads for this joint made claims of $3 beer until 10:00. Yet every beer I bought was $6 or $7. Although not bad for this type of place, I was still disappointed. Apparently only certain, crappy beer (i.e. Bud Lite) came with the special price. Oh but the eye candy kept me forgetting these minor details. That and the amusement of wathing Ronny work the room. He appeared to be a man running for mayor. He was having a good time indeed.
Mitch, another coworker was there too. He’s about to move back to Hoboken and has inspired me to look for a more modern apartment with tales of what his new place will be like. Not that I have anything really against my place. It’s an old brownstone and my apartment is large enough, but I’ve had it with the three story walk up, hot summers and drafty winters. In truth, I really don’t know where I’ll end up. The thought of leaving Hoboken and traveling the country for a few years keeps creeping up on me again and again. That however is a tale for another time.
We did discuss the fact that best way to afford a decent, modern apartment in this area is to share it with a roommate. I’ve been living alone for over ten years and like it that way. Mitch said that the trick is to find a person who also prefers to live alone. Then find a place big enough (two bed, two bath) where the level of privacy is such that it would seem as though you are both living alone. He was lucky enough to find that, I however am still a bit skeptical.
A passing comment about how perhaps living with a woman would do me best since men and women seem to be more forgiving and accepting of the opposite sex lead us to a discussion about relations and dating in general. That, much like Buddhists searching for enlightenment, you can never find a girlfriend unless you are not looking. We both shared stories about how, in the past, we found this particular girl or that seemingly by complete accident. Unfortunately for us tonight, knowing this fact clouds the search since we are now always aware that we are searching. I know … very deep stuff. We soon went back to staring at the girls in the room.
Madeline and Luis showed up. Luis was carrying a strange gray, plastic case. We were curious about the free karaoke in the basement. After a couple of cocktails, they went to check it out while I took off after a couple of girls to have a smoke. Evelyn and her cousin who I believe is a nurse or something. God help me. I said to Mitch later that I wished I was sick in her hospital.
When I got back inside, Madeline and Luis were already back from the karaoke room. The problem with free karaoke is that it’s a room filled with total strangers. I for one am way more confident in the fun I have with friends in a private room than I am in the quality of my singing voice. So this was not as appealing to us and we decided to leave.
We stopped into The Molly Wee Pub (402 8th Ave, NYC) for one last drink and some finger food. Like its name suggests, it’s a small, warm Irish pub. The platter of fried zucchini, mozzarella sticks, potato skins and buffalo wings hit the spot. Luis had a BLT. We said we’d split it, each getting a letter. I said I wanted the ‘T’ but in my slightly buzzed head it meant ‘toast’ not ‘tomato’. This sparked the question, “why is the BLT not called a BLTMT for bacon, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise and on toast?” Luis and I also discussed our mutual admiration of The Cranberries as the song Zombie (though not my favorite) played in the background.
Afterwards, as we stood outside saying goodbye, I discovered that the strange gray, plastic case Luis was carrying turned out to be a power drill. He joked about wanting to use it as a catalyst for a fight. Smack someone upside the head with it. Truthfully he simply borrowed it from Madeline because he needed to assemble some furniture. Although, as long as the violence was not rendered upon my person, the chaos of such an event would have been entertaining.
This was a good note on which to end the night and I walked to my bus. Thanks to Madeline’s discussion of a Christmas compilation that was being passed around out office, I was forced to hear the Heat Miser song in my head all the way home.
See Also:
Vesta
The Molly Wee Pub
