Report From The Front
I'm happy to report last night's bar crawl was successful. At least for some of us.
Dinner was great, very relaxing and lots of fun. The boys had a Navarin of Lamb and I had Lapin Maguerite (I'm not translating that due to the ewwww factor...suffice to say it was served in a light mustard, wine and cream sauce). I had three Manhattans with dinner and left a happy man.
The three of us headed over to Therapy on the early side. Once we got upstairs, retrieved drinks and took our post at the railing under the skylight overlooking the staircase M. began to noticeably twitch. I knew it. All that young flesh was driving him insane. And not in a good way. Nothing interested him. Bored, he pulled out a copy of HX and started to read. I took it away from him. I saw some very nice young men, and finalized what has been a fairly recent sociological revelation for me.
Apparently, the young don't cruise the way we used to.
A couple of weeks ago, I met Ryan's friend Jason, from San Diego. Very nice. Every time I looked his way he'd be looking at me, but then his eyes would dart away. I only found out he was interested in me when Ryan came by and told me that Jason liked me.
Us old school guys generally locked eyes when we saw someone we were interested in and proceeded to bore holes into each other until we met. Apparently, the kids today have a more furtive technique. Lots of little glances, with quick look-aways. I had ample opportunity to test my theory with a muscular youngster last night.
M. could bear Therapy no longer, so after two bourbon and sodas, we headed around the block to Posh. Tony is right; Posh is a bad name for a good bar. It was packed but not too packed with a friendly crowd and I was extremely popular. Tim and I had a blast and definitely will return. M. hated it even more than Therapy. To appease him, we headed down to the Eagle.
Whereas the other two bars were well lit and friendly, the Eagle was dark and grim. Honestly, would it cost some of those bartenders anything to actually interact with their clientele? Perhaps a smile? There are a couple of friendly guys, and then there's one or two who are just dismal. Listen, they ain't that fuckin' hot, and if they are, what the hell are they working there for? I have a feeling it's not the greatest bar gig. There's a lot of bartenders and I can't imagine the tips are that great, once they're pooled and split.
Tim and I agreed that we'll be spending more time with our neighbors in Hell's Kitchen this season. It's nice to be fresh meat in your own town.
As for M., well, after last night, the only place we'll be going with him is back to the Townhouse.