Monday Night Lights

So it is the second week of my new old job. After work I test drove my first car, my first reliable car and still made it to the train to dinner.

We went to a small little European Wine bar called ino. It was smack in the middle of an intersection of about 5 roads that were conveniently under construction. After calling the restaurant from 1 block away I finally made it to the dimly lit haven that sells full heavy glasses of wine and Italian savory treats. I waited at the bar and watched the bartender pour my perfect glass. The glass was half full when the bottle ran out. In no greater time than 4 seconds he slide a stool over with his foot, propped himself up, grabbed a bottle of wine, swung it and himself down and uncorked it. It was the most fluid sexy act I have ever witnessed in a bar. After my Sangiovese, rugala and parmesan salad and two pieces of fresh tomato and basil bruschetta. I looked around the room. Even though there were only a handful of tables, many of them were filled with true Europeans. I always found it interesting that even when they go abroad they search for what they have at home. Maybe because they know what they have is right.

I made my way back to the subway.

On the subway ride home I experienced something that one can only experience in New York, the unexpected, the odd, the humorous and humanity. I got on the packed subway at around 10:00pm. And I changed over to the express train that would take me up to Harlem at 14th Street. Every seat was full on this train. Then this gentleman in plain looking golf like shorts, a white tee-shirt, sneakers, sunglasses carrying a base guitar and amp got on. I had never seen him before. He sits downs and says with confidence, karisma and serious cool…this one is for the beautiful Indian lady with the nice smile. He looked at her. No one looks at one another in New York. The first thing I told my PA mom when she came to visit was “Don’t look anybody in the eyes”. She was shocked. This was the complete opposite of what she though civilized people do. Then she realized well “this is new york”. What was more surprising than his candor was that she smiled back and then looked and me and smiled. We all waited in anticipation of what this comedian was going do sing. “Dun dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun dun, I got sunshine, on a cloudy day” (everyone was smiling) “when its cold outside, I got the month of may…this one is for you Indian lady with the pretty hair and smile”. “This next song (he continued) is you the gray haired lady right there. Gray haired lady this is for you”. There was a pause. “I”VE BEEN REALLY TRYING BABY…….COME ON…..LETS GET IT ON….this is for you you sexy gray haired lady”. Pause “This next song is for the Puerto Rican “Wantana meda whinta wantana medaaaaaa wanita wantanameda”. “Now for all the Africans on the Train”….and this went on. For ten stops, half an hour. Every single person on the train was smiling. We were all looking at eachother. For the first time in a long time these New Yorkers were people in public. I took his picture. I wanted to remember this forever. This happiness that this one man caused.

I walked home not feeling tired from my late dinner and show and the girls next store (not to be confused for…but could be confused for…Hugh Heffners girls next door) were up. They were getting ready to out. For the first time in a long time I wanted to go. Clubs are not usually my thing. They generally are a lot of posing, prodding and people from New Jersey trying to impress other people from new jersey by trying to be “new york”. Don’t they know all they have to do is not look people in the eye? But this night I felt like going out. I made my hair big (very easy to do) and slipped on my black dress, a pair of high heels later and I was off. The four girls jumped into the white porsche that was owned by the rapper boyfriend of one of my friends and we headed downtown to a club. We got to a club and stood behind the velvet ropes with all the other beautiful people. Then we noticed something. Something strange even for New York Club life (the underworld as I call it). They were only letting in ugly people with tee-shirts, backpacks, holey jeans and crocs. CROCS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All the beautiful people were left out. I had no idea what was going on. We left and went to another club “Soul”. This haunt was hip hop and that night all the players were out. Oh no not the players that are usually out on the town on a sat night to pick up chicks but actual players. These guys played for the Knicks, the Jets and the Giants. It was till we left the club that I realized the guy at our table that we were hanging out with (note our table…we took it over) plays for the Giants. It explained the weird colors in their décor. As soon as we left the club around 4:30am my friend realized someone took her blackberry. She went haywire, nuts, crazy, started screaming. I felt awful but…..it was a phone, not a person, not a pet, a phone. Phones can be replaced but she felt someone had taken her soul (how I would also feel if my phone were missing). She started freaking out. I calmed her down and as I calmed her down one of the girls next door sneaked off with a player not sure in what sense. I finally got our girl back to the car. She speed off in her porsche and when the police behind pulled up next to her she rolled down the window and yell “What do you do when some girl steals your phone”. And then she drove off. Needless to say at 4:30AM we got pulled over by the NYPD. 3 tickets later, a search of a rappers car, my mind going through all proper search and seizer procedures, the mini therapy session in the front seat and a conversation with T-Mobile we where heading home. I washed my face, looked at the clock, set my alarm and prayed I woke on time, two hours later.

Tuesday night I went home and turned out the lights.

Your girl,

Lucky