Yesterday morning was a comedy of errors. I desperately needed to shake it off. I had to reclaim my Saturday as my own.
What do? It was decidedly dreary outside and rain was already starting to pelt down, making it even drearier. But, I wasn't going to let it beat me down. I would have my Saturday!
A 5:30pm appointment at Angel Feet was booked. I had earned a decadent reflexology session after the morning I'd endured! And after that, who knew what the day would bring for me and my massaged tootsies.
With my session several hours off, I decided to nap - a serious nap - and awoke in enough time to grab a cup of coffee and indulgent 4pm brunch (consisting solely of a buttery Mixed Berry Tart, jam-packed with sweet blueberries and raspberries) at the West Village cafe staple, Tartine. Mmmm.
It was beginning to feel like Saturday.
An hour after I plunked myself into one of the cushioned chairs at Angel Feet and allowed the reflexologist to work her sublime magic, I knew it was Saturday. Yay!
Now what? The raindrops where as incessant as ever. Didn't feel much like a movie. I was supposed to meet Joy in a couple of hours uptown. Didn't really have time to go home to Brooklyn and then come back in later.
Hmmm...
Could always return to Pegu Club. But no. I needed to experience something new.
Then it came to me: Little Branch (pictured above).
I had yet to visit Sasha Petraske's subterranean speakeasy. I was only a few wet blocks away! The perfect plan was put into action.
I was turned away a the door and told to return in 10 minutes when they opened. 10 minutes sounded like an eternity in the rain, but a masterful cocktail did sound like heaven. And, I did have angel feet now, after all.
I traipsed through puddles along 7th Avenue until 7pm arrived and when I returned to Little Branch's door, I saw that I was not alone. Two gents - Matt and Monte - were waiting outside. Waiting for the doors to open. Waiting for some brilliant mixology to brighten their day. And, after a 15 minute soaking wet holdup until the door finally swung open, we realized that we were a band of cocktail connoisseurs. Kindred spirits.
We clambered down the dark stairwell waxing poetic about rums and prohibition-era drinks, when suddenly - SPLAT!
I'd missed a drop off and, well, dropped off. Ouch! Matt and Monte came to my rescue and helped me slip into something more comfortable - a booth.
Soon my splat was all but forgotten. Three frothy Bee's Kisses were before us. Then three more. Then three rum drinks that went without name and went down quick and smooth. Then three more.
Chatter ensued as we imbibed. Talk of the movie industry. Talk of failed romances. Talk of Balzac. Talk of cooking soup. Talk of dive bars. Talk of sex.
And, to think, they were straight.
I'd somehow stumbled (and splatted) my way into a brotherhood of booze, babes, business and books. How it happened, I wasn't quite certain - but I was one of the guys.
And, to think, I'm straight.
A walk to the corner. A cab hailed. Cards exchanged.
Yes. I had my Saturday.
NOTE: Contrary to the impression given by this and my last posting - Have no fear. I am not turning into a lush. I'm just getting a wee taste of the lush life, in between episodes that involve water, coffee, tea and other teetotaling beverages.
Weee...you continue to be my hero...I loved this story...don't let the rain get you down....if it does...well I hate to go there...but blame it on the rain....yeah!yeah!
Posted by: Joaquin Ochoa | April 24, 2006 at 12:13 PM