Thursday, July 16, 2009

It's up to me, Part D-I-NY:
New York
(drinking and friendly)

The following day, we rolled out of the hotel sometime around 2pm, headed down to Lexington and, not having a particular destination in mind, picked a direction and started walking.

Here is a grouped arrangement of lilies with Carex leaves wrapped around the vase, seen through the windows of the W New York – Union Square – I liked that the outside of the vase was utilised as effectively as the inside.

We walked by that hotel several times over the seven days we stayed in New York and it was lovely to see the character of the arrangements evolve as the lilies came into full bloom from these tight buds, changing from tone-on-tone greens to a vibrant contrast of green and orange-red.

After wandering around the East Village and a couple fantastic bowls of ramen (just like Tokyo!) at Rai Rai Ken, we found ourselves at Ryan’s Irish Pub, drawn in by Postal Service wafting out the door. A good choice for a chill evening on our second day in the Big Apple.

Our very charming Irish bartender (complete with an equally charming Irish accent) took this picture. I wish I could remember his name – he was so awesome – but I'd had too many pints of Guinness and chocolate martinis. Which brings me two another highlight of our trip: how friendly the people are in New York. Aaron and I were sitting at the bar, enjoying our pint and cocktail respectively, when a random guy walked in off the street and sat down next to us at the end of the bar. He ordered a drink, and then just-like-that POOF! started a conversation.

Arthur, with curly hair and glasses, talked about how he grew up in New York in a wealthy family—his dad had something to do with investing or banking or investment banking—and was working as a concierge in a hotel. We told him about Edmonton and how my sister gave us this trip as a gift. We showed him a vintage pillbox hat with french net that we’d bought for her at St. George’s Thrift Shop in Gramercy (she makes couture hats, and french net (i.e. net with large squares) is surprisingly hard to find), and we talked about our event design business.

I’d like to think it’s because we’re so cool that we settled into conversation with our bartender too, learning that he’d been in New York for two years or so, with an apartment in Manhattan his first year and over a thousand per month in rent, killing himself working to live, before finally conceding to the powers that be and moving to Queens. Or was it Brooklyn? ...I may have been three chocolate martinis in at this point. (Aaron told me later that our bartender liked us so much, he’d started comp-ing our drinks. And, oh, were those martinis tasty.)

A couple hours later, I leaned into Aaron and hissed that we had to go—I was worried I might be sick—but he was having such a good time that he tried to ignore me. I got brushed off by my bemused husband 3 or 4 times before I decided to take matters into my own hands, picking up our bag with the hat off the bar, and walking out the door. Once outside, though, I felt better and lit up a cigarette thinking I'd go back in after a moment, but then Aaron stumbled out about a minute later asking why I didn’t say goodbye. We wobbled our way back to the hotel, me in heels and hanging onto Aaron like the pope to a bible, laughing and shouting, “Whoo! I love New York! I’m in New York! Drunk! Whoo! New York! Drunk!” etc…the entire way.

The next morning, after many loving nuzzles over my Marge Simpson laugh, Aaron told me how he waved goodbye to Arthur and our bartender, running after me like a six-year-old called home to dinner, and everyone hopeful we'd be back.

1 comment:

  1. This post is so unbelievably cute that I just might die and be reborn, only to reread it and die again.


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