| Karen and I left the apartment and ventured out into the Village. She lives at the interesection of two of the major streets so just steps from her front door and we were into the flow of humanity. Karen introduced me to a common creature found in the Village at night; The Bridge and Tunneler...or a BBQ'S (Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens, Staten Island)....these were people from the outer borroughs who come into Manhattan for kicks. They can always be spotted by their distictive hairstyles (often heavily sprayed or gelled) and their willingness to stand in line at supposedly hip joints and tourist traps. If I ever transplant myself to New York City I will have to purchase several items to fit in with the male population: A pair of leather pants, a black silk shirt and a cell phone. Nearly every guy I saw had one or more of these items on his person...and these were the straight guys. GQ is the new plantation master and Hugo Boss is the king of New York. Hipsters abound on the streets of this city...chameleons responding to the whims of fashion lords. The only saving grace is that Karl Lagerfeld is a benevolent despot. Karen wisely steered me away from the tourists and other wastrels and we proceeded down Bleeker Street to a beautiful dive bar....real dive, not faux. Complete with sizzling red neon sign that simply notified "Bar". Some of the Beats had supposedly drunk heavily at this bar....so Karen and I ordered a few pints and pondered John Clellon Holmes. We stayed for a while then headed out to find a more lively joint. The streets were teeming with people well after midnight. We were in a less touristy area of the Village...more locals. There was a certain energy in the air. It felt like furtive excitement...the feeling that comes when you know you shouldn't be doing something...but you do it anyway because you know you'll get away with it. It felt like freedom. We went to a long, narrow and crowded bar several blocks over. Someone said Adam Sandler was there but I didn't see him. The crowd proved too much to take so it was off to another watering hole. We found a genuine speakeasy of a place. Down some stairs and through a door worthy of any max security prison. But inside it was beautiful...an Irish pub done in lovely wood furnishings. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed with donated books. I entertained Karen by reading passages from an ancient copy of Romeo and Juliet in between gulps of lager. Around 4:00 am we staggered back to the apartment through a pelting cold rain. Soaked to the skin it was off to sleep. New York might never sleep but I damn well do. Saturday was cloudy, cold, damp. We stayed in until late afternoon. By that time hangovers had subsided and cabin fever had set in. Karen and I went out walking in the Village. We strolled around for several hours popping into various shops, galleries, pubs. Whatever changes Guliani had made didn't seem to extend this far south. This still looked like the NYC of past days...well...perhaps less homeless people on the street, but the Villagers have always done things their own way so maybe the Italian Stallion's sweeping reforms hadn't been implemented as heavily here. It might be a different story further north in central Manhattan. We walked the East Village and the area known as Alphabet City, once a haven for junkies, hookers and pushers. It hasn't changed all that much. Mixed amidst the loft studios are transient hotels and shady bodegas. Public urination seems to be a competetive sport in Washington Square Park. A few snapshots on my walking tour and the gray weather finally forced us back the the apartment. Not an exciting day but I did buy a t-shirt emblazoned with the NYPD Homocide Squad emblem. You never know when something like that will come in handy. Sunday was a rain washout. Karen and I stayed in and had dinner with her roomie, a California petite blond vegetarian airhead with a Hello Kitty toaster, and two of her friends. I was supposed to go home Sunday night. But while watchng the weather news we saw it was going to be a fantastic, warm day on Monday. I hadn't seen all I had wanted to see due to the weather...so on Karen's suggestion I did the most reasonable thing; I called in sick to work for Monday. |