Keep it Gay

So I Ubered to MIA early Friday, with a taciturn driver named Alejandro, and when  I got the email bill it was $7.52.  Apparently AMEX runs a promotion where they give you a $15 credit.  Nice!  Every once in awhile there's something good for rich, white men!

The flight to LGA was fine, and then my driver to the City was the opposite of Alejandro. He was Bulgarian, and talked non stop about his knowledge of the true conspiracy in the world -- the evil Catholic Church!  He gave me all kinds of examples -- Da Vinci Code type of things.  Think about it, he said, America is a Protestant country, and the Supreme Court is 3 liberal Jews (they are ok, he said) and 6 CATHOLICS.  Even in Florida -- Jeb Bush converted to Catholicism!  Watch, he warned me, you'll see I'm correct.

I checked into the hotel, and realized I needed a nap, which I took, and then walked to D2's new street, 11th, and sat at a corner cafe, French Roast.  It was a warm late summer afternoon.  I drank an iced coffee, and felt immediately at home -- the way I do in Asheville, Key West, and Coconut Grove here at home.  And then D2 appeared -- a vision of lovely in every way.  We hugged, and she sat and got an iced coffee as well, and we caught up.

She took me down her street, and showed me the old Sephardic cemetery -- from the oldest synagogue in the City.  I told her she had a built in Halloween venue.  And then we saw her new apartment -- pre war, nice folks, many living there for decades.  Jonathan joined us and shared great news -- he gave notice at his sweat shop, and took a new job with a smaller firm.  More money, and hopefully fewer than the 90-100 hours per week he's been putting in.

We walked over to the Strip House, a steak place next to Union Square, and celebrated with a porterhouse and grilled tuna and martinis.  Afterwards I walked back to the hotel -- after telling the young couple I might well rent my own apartment in the Village, too.  Not really, but fun to scare them.

So it turned out that it was Pride Week in NYC -- a celebration of gay rights, or LGBTQ and whatever other letters they now add.  And Greenwich Village is epicenter.  So wherever we walked there were tons of young folks -- men with men, women with women, and every combination in between.  They were all in a joyful mood, and it was terrific to be around them.

Saturday we met for breakfast, and then Jonathan had to get to work -- final deal analyses before leaving the company.  D2 and I walked to the White Horse Tavern, and met 5 others and a friendly tour guide named Justin for a Literary Pub Crawl.  It was 1, and we drank Stella.

The tour started slow, and after an emergency pee break I suggested we abandon it, but D2 felt otherwise, and I'm glad she did.  Things got more interesting -- we saw where Hart Crane lived, and about Dylan Thomas's 18 whiskeys at the White Horse before he died face down in the snow.  And we stood outside a place called Chumley's, right next to the building where the exterior of "Friends" was shot.  Chumley's claims connections to 40 Pulitzers, and is the place where F Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald married.

We ended at Marie's Crisis -- a place where Thomas Paine had lived.  We also saw the building on Grove Street where John Wilkes Booth began his plan to kill Lincoln -- it's still called the Grove Street Conspiracy.  Cool stuff, I thought.

Jonathan rejoined us, and we went to a place called Jefferies.  His sister Eva and her man Yoni met us, and we shared some seafood and cheese plates.  Yoni, American born but Israeli bred, pointed out that I had been drinking since 1 that afternoon -- sort of like a tailgate party.  He was correct.

I took us back to Chumley's -- I wanted to see it, but the exotic hostess said the bar was full.  Still, she let us in, and the pony tailed, hippie "on site historian" gave us a quick tour of the place.  It was lined with book jackets of all the writers who had been there.  I vowed to come back for dinner next trip to NYC.

From there we went to the Happiest Hour, a hipster bar with a tropical decor, where we had craft cocktails.  These are not my speed -- I told D2 mine was a salad drink -- but still a nice time.  From there we decamped to D2 and Jonathan's apartment --his sister and boyfriend hadn't seen it yet.

I left the younguns, and headed back to the hotel.  Sunday am I was up, and went for coffee at the bar.  A fellow about my age was there -- already drinking screwdrivers, and schooling the young staff about the movie "Ghost."  I said hello, and we immediately clicked -- charming, hilarious guy named Thomas.

He was from Central Jersey, moved to Colorado where he was a realtor, and after a short marriage to an Italian girl realized he was gay.  But he wasn't there for the Pride Parade -- he was showing his elderly mother the sites.  He looked me over and said "Well YOU'RE not here for the Pride thing."  I was a little insulted -- how did he know right away I was NOT gay.  D2 arrived and we had a nice chat -- he learned Reiki, or something like it, and gave me a chakra test.  We became FaceBook friends and off he went -- I felt I had paid proper homage to Pride Week by making a new gay friend.

I told D2 about being slightly insulted -- I mean, like Thomas I was wearing jeans and an untucked shirt.  D2 patiently explained I had the wrong jeans, the wrong shirt -- no -- nothing at all gay about me.  I accepted my straight destiny...

We then went back to French Roast, sat outside, and watched the parade of humanity that told us absolutely we were NOT in Kansas anymore.  We decided that even the dogs were gay -- as were the grannies.

We brought breakfast back for Jonathan, and watched the parade live on TV.

Finally, it was time for me to leave, and we realized that all of Greenwich Village was closed off to traffic.  We walked and walked, and finally at 9th Avenue and 16th Street, Jonathan found me a cab.  I was off for LGA.

I took my seat, we took off, and it was pretty rough.  The woman in the seat across the aisle screamed and whined the whole time -- demanding her husband get her XANAX -- and it was really too turbulent to get out of his seat.  He looked at me and his gaze said "You lucky bastard -- why do you get to travel alone?"

When things smoothed out, I ate me meal and fell fast asleep -- visions of D2 and her new address happily in my dreams.

I landed, and called Mirta.  She was free, and fetched me, and we went to Kon Chao for some post trip dim sum.  I thanked her for house and dog sitting, and she dropped me home -- the dogs seemed disappointed it was me, and not Mirta and her grandson, who adored the dogs.

Wifey is still away -- hanging with Edna up in Hallandale for some more days.  I'm happy to be alone with the dogs-- and happy with an awesome Dad/daughter trip to NYC -- even though I was a straight man in a gay land...