Just one Drink

Just one mojito makes me borderline drunk now.

I know they say that the more you drink, the higher your tolerance get, but that is just

Lies.

I met with the dean on Tuesday, and it looks like I will be graduating in January after all. Weird. Kinda scary.

So after that I decided to use my last day off to walk around the city, as usual. I knew I wanted to get to the Red Lion by 10. So I had loads of time. I walked through union square, and then to Bleecker. I temporarily contemplated getting wine at The Room where I had gone with Johnny, and he even kindly texted me the exact location, which had slipped my mind. But then I decided to go with someplace new. So I went to a little place which advertises itself on the awning as a wine bar.

More lies.

I mean they did have some wine, but most only by the bottle. If one glass gets me tipsy, I certainly wasn’t going to get a bottle. So I went with the mojito.

The girl sitting at the bar next to me was being all coy and smiley. I took out my paper to write down ideas for my senior thesis. Which, by the way is ridiculous since there is so much other work that needs to get done, and senior thesis really is for next semester. (one might also point out that writing a paper at the bar is an interesting alternative to the library, but anyway…)

The girl behind the bar looked like a very young version of Wynona Ryder. She was also smiley and coy, and I started to wonder whether everyone in the place new something I didn’t. Then the girl beside me took out a book/journal sort of thing, wrote a bit, and went for a cigarette break. Wynona came over and asked if I knew her. I said no. She said it looked like I did because we were friendly. Ok. So then of course I started a whole conversation with Wynona, whose name is actually Nino. She loves music too, and also lives ridiculously far uptown like me. If she hadn’t had to work until 2, she would have come to Red Lion. Oh well.

So cigarette break ended, and the girl is from Switzerland. She is moving to New York to live with her Swiss boyfriend who moved to New York a while ago. Her name is Caroline, and she was great bar company for conversation (and something of English language lessons as well) while she waited for her man to come back from work. (a bank, obv.) It’s funny cuz he did show up eventually, and he sounds remarkably a lot like Shrek. Turns out he learned English from someone who lives in the very far north of England. (Where accents get all convoluted and can sound somewhat Scottish). So it was all fun, and I made three friends. We exchanged info, and I will start telling them about the music I see.

Pete & J were amazing as usual. I was sitting with Matt at the bar for most of the time, and it was driving me nuts to try and watch the show through the mirror, and finally by “This is It” I convinced him to come stand. During their break I said hello, and caught some words with MJ. You know when you blank out entirely about someone’s name even though you know them so well? Well I did that to J when I was referring to Matt, and instead of making it obvious that I blanked, I stumbled for sound and called him Mike, which is utterly ridiculous. And then to make up for it I said “oh… I mean Matt, see…he has a brother Mike.” (which again makes no sense in any sort of context). And now J thinks I slept with Matt’s brother. O dear.

 I met a guy named Adam who actually drums for Ian (start humming ‘It’s a small world after all’ here…) and he had just been to Feist and gave me a heads up that it will be an awesome show. He gave me a ride to the train which was lovely, only I quickly found out that the trains weren’t running.

So I power walked.