I’m spontaneous. I once bought a plane ticket to Peru after pulling the country from a paper bag. I took a guy up on his bet to hit a bulls-eye playing darts. I took a road trip to Ohio to pick up a lawn mower after a last minute buy on ebay. I crashed a wedding at the Mandarin Oriental after hearing catchy dance music. I looked at Yelp the other night and went to the closest ‘Dive Bar’ recommendation. I ended up at McSorley’s Old Ale House. None of these instances have ended wrong, especially the last.
McSorley’s Old Ale House is probably my favorite place that I have found in New York by far. It is the oldest Irish bar in New York. And, up until a couple of decades ago, I would not have stepped foot in it. Not because I wasn’t born, but women weren’t allowed. Random side note, I know. There is a lot of random things about this place. This is just one to throw out as my mind filters, sorts, and/or vomits out these fun filled facts. I digress.
It was a warmer Halloween, and my friend and I were trying to escape the throng of costumes, crowds, and crazies. All we wanted to do was hold a beer and feel normal again. I found my phone, typed in ‘bar’, and this gem was .1 of a mile away. We escaped to its cozy interior where a dirty-faced priest welcomed us (this isn’t a joke or a real priest, it’s Halloween!) and we thanked him as he held the door for us. Inside, we were greeted by quite the lass (lad) with golden polyester hair and a dirndl that scantily showed off the staple New Yorker calves that I have come to realize are everywhere…every leg lover’s fantasy is on the streets of New York. He (she for the night) turned around, smiled, and with his Irish accent asked what our poison would be.
What’s our choices?
Dark or light.
Dark or…light what?
Beer. And how do you ladies keep on lipstick? It won’t stay on.
For $5.50 each we were both handed two beers and stood at a bar taking it all in. It’s Halloween. We may have escaped the crowds, but the costumes and crazies only increased. I really wished I had worn a costume. Normal was not coming easily this evening.
Three rounds later, we had discovered an original poster of reward for capture of Lincoln’s assassin (cough, cough…John Wilkes Booth), a pair of Houdini’s handcuffs, and wishbones of men who did not return from World War I (read this intriguing story about these interesting relics). We have also witnessed the arrival of Sorority Dudes, a giraffe, Super Woman, and a sullen zombie sipping a beer in a lonesome corner. I knew then with or without Halloween costumes I would return.
So, in conclusion, my attempt to be spontaneous worked out perfectly. And, my mind is no longer functioning as for Brooklyn Lager is taking effect with the distraction of SNL.
The End. El fin. Word. To your mother.