Coincidence and curiosity on a night of music and food
I got a text message last night from my friend Helen saying to meet her at the Port Authority by 10:15. Arriving a little early, I stopped by McCann’s for a couple of drinks. I sat and listened to conversations about run-ins with Billy Joel back when he had bushy hair back while dating Christy Brinkley and the loss of such a great mind as John F. Kennedy Jr. and the plausibility of his possible presidency.
Thankfully I was sober enough to keep my mouth shut having never really considered John John to be all that brilliant. In my opinion, luck got him thru life and arrogance ultimately resulted in his death. On top of that, two patrons were debating the possibilities of a woman president. They seemed to agree that Caroline Kennedy was our next great hope. Not Hillary Clinton as the pundits and Hillary herself would have us believe.
My phone rang in the middle of all this interesting bantor. It was Helen saying to meet her by the 9th Avenue entrance. She’d be waiting amid the homeless and crack dealers. So I swiftly swallowed the last bits of my cocktail and made my way down the stairs and out onto the street.
We hopped in a cab bound for CB’s 313 Gallery (313 Bowery, NYC). Earlier in the day, Helen had run into old High School mate, and drummer for the band BonBomb, Hank. She had asked me if I ever heard of them and, as coincidence would have it, I’ve know of them and Hank for several years.
I first met Hank when he was part of a large art and performance group called AWOL. The last time I saw the band BonBomb was at Willie McBrides (616 Grand St, Hoboken) back in August 2003. So I was looking forward to hearing them again.
On the ride downtown, Helen was showing off her new toy camera called the Holga. It is a medium-format (120mm) plastic gizmo whose own manual speaks of its frailty. In fact it comes with a roll of electrical tape that one must use to keep the backing on and the light out. You’re also advised to wedge a small piece of cardboard in with the batteries to keep them from falling out of place.
According to the manufacturer, some Holga aficionados prefer the light leakage as it can add certain unique qualities to the images. To add to this, and other abilities for multi-exposure effects, there is an entire society of fanatics who set out to modify the camera to create more wonders. Go ahead, search the web, you’ll find them.
As we sat at the bar of CB’s 313 Gallery sipping drinks, Helen snapped a few more pictures. The Gallery was always the classier of the CBGB rooms with its walls filled with an assortment of art and photographs. Some years ago I remember the music being of a lighter nature. More recently this has become as loud as either of the other rooms. Still the look is more upscale.
BonBomb began their set and I noticed that the video which was being recorded was also being projected on the wall. It was a nice throwback to a more artistic and inventive mindset. Their sound is a mix of 80s goth-pop and a heavier rock aesthetic. We left the little, raised bar area and moved in closer but it was hard to appreciate the band’s hooks and subtleties infused in the energy due to the loud volume. To get a taste of their music, check out their website www.bonbomb.com.
After some reminiscing with the Hank, hunger began to set in. Helen had been saying all night that we’d be heading down to Chinatown for some food. We walked the rainy streets and ended up at Great NY Noodletown (28 1/2 Bowery, NYC). It’s a small, simple place that defines fine dining in my book with its cheap, authentic Chinese food and unassuming atmosphere.
I got the Roast Duck with Rice. It was quite enjoyable despite the need for my mouth to navigate thru and around the bits of bone. Helen ordered the Shrimp Dumpling and Noodle Soup which we shared. Over the past ten years or so I’ve learned to not be so bigoted about my food. Still my fish prejudices came to the surface as the Seafood Porridge she ordered struck me as a bit too foreign and I avoided a taste. We washed it all down with some nice hot tea.
All of this hot food and drink brought about the soothing sensation of impending sleep. Of course we were still quite a ways from any place to catch shuteye. The thought of making our way back to the Port Authority simply made us more tired. It was an unavoidable fact that we’d find ourselves back in a cab to catch a private bus back to New Jersey. At this hour, NJ Transit had pretty much stopped running.
We sat drifting in and out of sleep to the irritating sounds of corny Christian rock and drunken voices. The driver had to wait for either 2:30 or for a full house, whichever came first. When we finally started moving I was able to convince the driver to get a bottle of water from one of the street meat vendors on our way to the Lincoln tunnel. The combination of alcohol and Chinese food was slowly dehydrating me.
After a remarkably comfortable night’s sleep on a futon placed on Helen’s living room floor, it was off to Johnny Rocket’s for breakfast. Neither of us was aware that they even served breakfast. We saw that it was open and frankly would have eaten burgers if given the option. However the omelette with cheese, bacon, tomato and pepper I ordered was delicious and huge enough for me to take half home. Helen got pancakes with bacon and a fried egg on the side.
After we said our goodbyes, my day continued to be baked in the warm comfort of the night before despite the rain. I slept most of the time but without the usual regrets of finding oneself in the midst of an unproductive furrow. It was a time needed to reinvigorate my sometimes waning spirit.
See Also:
CB’s 313 Gallery
BonBomb
