Friday night I saw the Nightrats at the National Underground. Don't ask me to describe their sound cause I can't. Okay, they're mellow, have a ukulele... anyway, there was a guy right smack in front of my view with a Hawaiian t-shirt and longish hair. Blah blah blah, we to the Submercer afterward with their Norwegian model/ photographer friend. Occupation significant because he happened to have met the Norwegian model turned photographer girl from fashion week THAT night. We found our way through the unmarked doors, through the cold wine cave passage way, and into the bar. I caved and had a glass of red wine despite being three days away from my no booze rule. I say three days because it was after midnight (I believe). Besides, when I made the bet with myself, I included red wine. (Don't ask). We took a quick tour of the bar, and as with any of my nights on the town, I ran into someone I went to college with. Yeah, I can't make this shit up. He was an art major, like me. And still working in the art world. Yay! Also met his friend Katie who went to Skidmore for a semester but transferred out. We had a very long conversation about how small New York is. Like disturbingly small, with many examples that freaked us out.
Sin number two. Had pizza. It was good. We walked home and I stopped off at Solas. The minute I entered the bar, some young college guys tugged at the hair coming out of my hair clip. Wow. Hit on in less than 5 seconds. This is so much less entertaining when sober. I quickly realized that the bar is way too young for me. Okay, so I knew that beforehand. And the music didn't have the same type of pull as it usually does. I skipped saying hi to my bartender and headed straight home. As I fought the 1:30 am throngs of people, I realized again that I was way too old to be living on that street!
Fast forward 2 hours of Twilight reading and a restful night. Saturday afternoon I headed straight for Abraco. Despite knowing that I tend to run into people, I thought.. what the hey. Just this once I'm going to rock the geek specs, unflattering and old Forever 21 jeans and purple, 5 year old corduroy blazer. I stood in line and saw the shaggy haired, Hawaiian shirt guy. Huh!!?? What are the chances??! Post amazingly good but weird sandwich later, I decide to throw out my garbage on 1st avenue despite it being out of the way. And who do I see but none other than my friend and her husband, who I saw last night. I take comfort in that my other friend finally recognized how strange it is that I do run into everyone I know. Like I'm drawn to them. They "weren't supposed to be there," living in Queens and all. And I didn't need to throw shit out on first avenue.