Category: Friends
Lady in the Water
June 2006 was the fifth rainiest June recorded in New York City. Three years ago, 10.27 inches of rain fell in Central Park, making it the wettest June since record keeping began in 1869.
July’s weather, by contrast, has been drier, but much more volatile: the heat wave earlier this week melted parts of NYC’s public transportation system and contributed to widespread — and still ongoing — blackouts in Western Queens. Just before 5:00PM, the skies suddenly blackened and torrential rains came in, clearing the streets and sending rivers of water pouring down the sides of buildings, just in time for Friday evening rush hour.
The view from my office:
So much for my plans to hit The South Street Seaport Museum and “Chicken Run” at Pier 46. Plan B: After a celebratory drink with JB, ST, RM and the summer interns across the street, I met SYB in SoHo to begin our “secret rock star” itinerary. Thankfully, by then the rain had tapered off.
First stop: pre-party bites at Verlaine on Rivington. According to the New York Magazine Bar Guide, the place is popular with “a less ostentatious breed of LES hipster.” Summer rolls, calamari, spinach dumplings and happy hour (until 10:00PM!) sangrias. Yum. CL and his friends began trickling in as our food arrived, and we made our way to the reserved area after dinner, where someone had brought in cupcakes from Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Chatted with JL, and got to meet IL about whom I’d heard so much over the years.
Next stop: Lolita on Broome for SK’s sendoff. From bisexual French poets to American nymphets! Got to watch SYB break out his origami bar trick for SK’s friend, Lauren. Tonight’s feature: the Kawasaki star. Not wanting to pull a WGY, I diverted my attention to SK’s friend DG, the Québécois attorney, instead of joining in the folding lesson.
An hour later, we were in a cab headed uptown: SYB on to party number three; me, home to call it a night… which I suppose makes me only two-thirds as cool. I can live with that.
From Joe Morgenstern‘s review:
M. Night Shyamalan’s “Lady In the Water” was inspired, we are told, by a bedtime story the filmmaker told his kids. I’m here to tell you that this cloying piece of claptrap sets a high-water mark for pomposity, condescension, false profundity and true turgidity — no small accomplishment for the man whose last two features were the deadly duo “Signs” and “The Village.”… [Mr. Shyamalan’s] first success in the genre was the genuinely creepy “The Sixth Sense,” with its signature line “I see dead people.” But that was seven years ago. Now everyone is dead in “Lady In the Water,” and they aren’t meant to be. They’ve simply been suffocated by super-seriousness in the telling of a small, murky fable.
Ouch. But aside from that: has it really been seven years since “The Sixth Sense”? I remember going to see that film in Great Neck with DK, HH and JC — a night I still recall with much fondness, despite everything that came after.
NY-HS Happy Hour @ Old Town Bar
The heat index in NYC hit 104 degrees this afternoon. Yikes. We’re not alone in our suffering: The New York Times reported 21 states with at least one location exceeding 100 degrees.
Wretched morning commute. The soaring temperatures have been wreaking havoc on the century-old NYC subway system. Yesterday, the nearly 100 degree heat caused a portion of the electrified third rail on the A line to buckle, stranding commuters for almost two hours in Rockaway. This morning, disaster struck the IRT. After slipping into the subway, just ahead of the closing doors on the downtown 1 train, my train proceeded to inch along the track for about 50 feet before jerking — hard — to a dead stop. A feeling of dread spread through the car, as the lights flickered, while the air conditioning sputtered, then whirred into ominous silence.
Seemingly within seconds, the train car was heavy with the sweaty steam rising off dozens of increasingly agitated commuter bodies. Car end-doors propped open, cabin windows popped and newspapers were fashioned into makeshift fans in a desperate attempt to generate some air circulation as we sat (or stood) in wait. Finally, an announcement: “Power outage on the West Side — please be patient.”
We were patient. We had no choice, really. I half expected a spontaneous riot, or some flare-up of commuter-rage, but the extreme heat seemed to have cowed the crowd into quietly suffering resignation.
Twenty stifling, interminable minutes later, the train reversed back into the Lincoln Center station, and we were released into the blazing sun. It was another twenty minutes of watching bus after impossibly-packed bus crawl past on Broadway after which I decided to change tactics and cross town for the East Side trains.
If not for work, I could have taken a cue from the toddlers frolicking in the Columbus Circle fountain. Though at some point, public nudity becomes considerably less cute.
Met SYB at the McBurney Y for our weekly CSA vegetable pick-up. After we’d divvied up our shares of Red Sails lettuce, dill, summer squash, perpetual spinach, new red potatoes, scallions, fennel, escarole, cucumbers, and Bright Lights swiss chard, he walked me to the Old Town Bar, where the Young Friends of the New York-Historical Society were hosting a happy hour.
The OTB was established in 1892 and is one of the Old New York watering holes, of which the most famous is probably McSorley’s Old Ale House. The high-backed booths (some original, with Prohibition-era storage space underneath in case of government raid), soaring tin ceilings, bevel-edged plate mirrors and marble topped mahogany bar all add to the charm. It sits west on 18th Street from another old timey bar: Pete’s Tavern, where in 1904, O. Henry penned his classic “The Gift of the Magi” at his favorite booth by the front doors.
Appropriately enough for the Historical Society, we were given a fact sheet on our venue (from which I cribbed some of the information above.) SYB stayed on for one lemonade — somewhat inferior to the deluxe versions from Sunday — while I remained to mingle with the other Young Friends. Met KW for the first time, and several others, including D, a documentary filmmaker who was recording the event for inclusion in a piece on the Society. Shortly after 8:00PM, DLW arrived from his office uptown; he and I stuck around for another hour or so, catching up on our summers.
Raced back home for a quick and much needed rinse before meeting CS at “our place.” As I was preparing to head out the door, I could hear the rumble of thunder and the sudden sound of rain — lots of rain — pounding against my windows. A quick call to CS, and after brief consultation, we decided to go forward with our plans, regardless of the storm. We did, after all, have important matters to discuss. Luckily, I had only to cross the rivulet, formerly known as Columbus Avenue, to reach my destination; CS sloshed in minutes later, from five blocks away. What a trooper!
Drenching aside, it was a lovely way to unwind after a long, hot day. On top of which, CS and I got to introduce ourselves to bartender Paul, whom we will no doubt be visiting again very soon.
One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor
Among the souvenirs M returned with from Mexico were two bottles of premium Don Julio Reposado tequila — aka “the good stuff” — which she decided to debut at a garden party on Friday night.
By the time I arrived, M, AC, MM and BK were in the courtyard; MP and RB arrived later, after Motorcycle Safety School. Summer rolls and kabobs were set aside a sweating pitcher of frozen margaritas on the patio table. On Bastille Day. How multi-cultural!
BK had brought in a box of (Popsicle-brand) popsicles, which I probably hadn’t had in two decades. Brilliant. But after all these years, I still can’t stomach the grape-flavored ones; they remind me too much of Dimetapp.
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