snow, mc sorley's, theatre electricians and more...

so its 10pm, saturday night. a buddy of mine and i are are lazing on my couch sipping a couple of amstel's, salsafying some tostitos and generally being bums. the snow was falling, the phone was quiet and i figured that we would have to make do with what had been a damn good friday night spent in the red lion as our weekend.

but low and behold the dog and bone starts jingling and the news is that a bunch of the guys are en route to doc watson's and for the two of us to get the ass in gear and come on down. so, seven minutes, a shower, shave and shot of JD later we are in a traction defying cab, UES bound. to keep it short, the mothership gang of guys started to split into several satellite pairs and triplets and proceeded to disperse themselves about the town...a good thing i always think, a marauding gang of dude can be fun, raucous and good for gettin kicked out of bars but when it comes to chatting up members of the opposite sex it tends to be as successful as something akin to an ashtray on a motorcycle.

we tried social on 48th, it was quiet. we tried tempest on 29th, it was quiet. we finally settle upon going to central bar on 9th and agree that even if we are to be the only people in the joint we would stay. now, astor place, at 1230am, in the midst of a record breaking blizzard is both confusing and lip splittingly cold...we stumble with eyelashs laden with the white stuff and manage to make it to mc sorley's. we're wet, cold and 2 blocks south of our desired destination.

some people probably find mc sorley's quaint, historic and cozy. and judging by the many bookwormish, hair-productless, back clapping, accountant looking dweebs in the bar...it is a certain type of people too. i, on the other hand, believe that a saturday night deserves, by law, a button down shirt, something to fix the hair in a stylishly ruffled look and some shoes that once said moo. gap v-necks, boston red sox hats and converse are just not cool on a saturday night...unless you are pulling the all nighter at the local mobil station...and by the way, chugging a glass with a dribble of beer and a two inch foamy head is not impressive, stop fucking shouting about it!!

needless to say, i mustered the two guys with me and did a captain oates on it and braved the swirling night once more...making it to central bar without losses and ready for some serious boozing. we had a great night in central, it was jam packed with the clientele i desired, heel wearing girls and capless gents...i even got talking to a girl who works the lighting in an off-broadway theatre...i thought it was cool anyway.

we hit mc carthy's as our chosen late bar before venturing out once more at nearly 6am in search of what we fear will be a taxi cab as easy to find as chicken's teeth. but we hit the jackpot, a dude willing to head westchester way and for a minimal bribe too. my companions pass out...i keep our driver company with confused ramblings about the importance of dax wax and dusting the antiques in old famous bars.

its 645am before the weary warriors fall in through my door. the pullout is extracted, the glasses of water are consumed and the sleep commences. 1138am comes round like a flash and i peel my self out of the warmth and head, shovel in hand, to dig out the trusty bronco... t'was a good weekend...