5.2.05
why i don't go out on weekends
another exciting saturday night in new york fucking city.
Out of a sense of responsibility, I went to a bar in the e.vil to meet a friend. This particular bar, aparently, is uberhip. It wasn't that hip when it opened two years ago. My friend and I were the only patrons on a weekday at happy hour. Tonight you couldn't get past the bouncer because the place was filled to capacity. When we finally came in, it was crowded as hell and you could basically forget about going to the bar, which was at least 3 deep in an already very narrow space.
All the dudes were wearing jeans and a jacket over a hoodie or long sleeved t-shirt. Why is it that a style I generally like (the jacket) can be so tainted by repetition? I can't tell them apart -- the shaggy facial hair is matched by an equally shaggy "I just woke up" hairdo. The girls were all... you guessed it... wearing cowboy boots. Fuck it. I just couldn't take it.
Then someone got up from my friend's table. It was fidel fucking castro. He was wearing an olive green cap, just like fidel, with his hair peeking out from underneath. The jacket was sort of army fatigue style, and I didn't bother looking at the trousers. I didn't catch the obligatory cigar, but that's probably because you can't smoke in bars in New York. My god, the nerve of some people. Is this a costume party?
I walked out.
I went home.
posted by a girl @ 21:41
1 Comments:
Ya know, you leave a pretty dark and cynical existence in this metropolis of yours. I think that secretly, you like Fidel and given the chance, you would light up his cigar any day....
hee hee hee