We left all of our things in the car and started exploring. First we found a tourist shop- all kinds of shirts and shot glasses and all the usual tourist crap pile with I <3 NY all over everything. I wasn't particularly interested in getting anything but the guys were all over it.
Then Superman says to me, "You know you gotta get her something. She said so."
Damnit. My demanding roommate Kandy was knocking at the back of my head, "You better get me something when you're there. I love New York and I wanna go ....." Blah blah it just kinda trails out from there. Damnit. So I start looking, wondering what to get her, still trying to remember all her little details, "Not like a damn keychain", and "I don't want a t-shirt, I want something that says New York, it doesn't necessarily have to say New York but something...." and again it trails off in the back of my head. On the glass shelves I saw something right away I knew she'd adore. A beer opener.
You don't get it, we're bartenders. We love our accessories. There are never enough.
For her to have a beer opener that had the iconic New York City scape in black, greys, and white all cool-like and shit, I would be the ultimate BFF. Don't get me wrong, I don't give a shit if she loves me and she doesn't give a shit if I love her. Not like a love/hate relationship. Like a hate/tolerate relationship. We know we don't like each other and that's what makes us US. But even if I don't give a shit, I could be the best hate friend EVER if I got her this.
Hell yeah.
But THEN something else on the other side of the glass shelving caught my eye- New York coasters. Plastic ones, paper ones, glass ones- coasters in every style with shit on them. This bitch has been bitchin at me about coasters ever since I got her shitty coasters for Christmas. Then she saw some cool ones one of our friends had and was all, "Why couldn't you get me cool ones like this?"
See, she's like my fuggin wife without me ever getting laid.
So I found a nice durable set that would look good on her glass coffee table. Double best friend. I got her some epic coasters so she'll never utter another word and I got her a bar accessory. I hadn't been on the New York streets for more than twenty minutes and I was already winning.
So we get outta there and keep walking down the same street. Just a few blocks ahead we can already see our next stop- all of the signs on the buildings, the people gathering, and even at eight in the mornin the lights were so vibrant on the street- Times Square. There was a amphitheater set up for seating but it didn't look like anything was going on at the time. I was caught up in all the bright lights and signs and advertisings that didn't seem to even distract the locals from their everyday walk to and from wherever it was they were going. The guys whipped out their phones and immediately began snapping pictures. We wandered around in the big clearing for a while, looking at all the different people, hearing different accents of all the travelers, then Superman brought us back to attention, " I Think the room might almost be done. We can come back later." We agreed then started back on our stroll.
There was a Hershey's building that we had to stop in. It reeked of chocolate but we were curious about it because the side of the building was super cool with all of it's Hershey candies represented and even working as gears next to the brick. Cool shit. We checked out all the giant Hershey mugs, Reese's hoodies, big candy bag mixes- you name it they had it, but what a fuggin headache. Like I said, reeked of chocolate.
We run outta there and back up toward the hotel. Superman calls. Still not ready yet. "I gotta super pee," I said. We looked kitty corner from the corner we were standing on. A little cafe placed there perfectly for my needs. We run over there and of course, only to customers. Easy enough. Superman gets a tea. Some sort of Jasmine Mint Hippy Loving Flower Cloud Green Mist something or another. I get the code and head to the back.
When I come out, the guys are ready for a little more wandering in the area. We step out and walk down the road a little ways and Superman nudges me, "You see that ahead?" he smiles and I look up and squint because I don't have my glasses on but when I read the sign my eyes got as big as an owl's.
"PIANOS?" I said.
"That's what it looks like."
"Thats's so funny! Because the other day we were just-"
"I know."
"Can we go in? Please? Will they let us?"
"We can see."
We walk up to the door of the piano shop and I walk in without hesitation. It was amazing how incredible small the shop was yet how many grands, baby grands, and stand up pianos they could fit in the place! I didn't see anyone at all in the shop. I started lurking through all the pianos when a small Asian woman came out from a crevasse somewhere in the wall. I said hello but she just kinda smiled and started to string a piano. They were all so beautiful. I couldn't touch them, though I really really wanted to.
Then a blonde lady came out from a doorway and greeted us. Asked us a few questions, told us about the shop, then asked if we wanted to see the new performance studio. We gladly accepted the small tour as she told us a little more about the place, renting the pianos, purchasing, and now that they had a studio, she told us they now rented the room for practice and also small performances.
The elegantly lit room was behind a sliding door and when she opened it I think I peed a little.
She walked us in the sound proof little room and opened the keys to the grand piano and asked if any of us played. "She does," Superman spoke up, "Well not really..." I trailed off. "You're free to play on it if you like. Go ahead, I'll be in the front and you enjoy yourselves and feel free to ask questions."
I could feel my eyes water. I was so excited. It had been a long time since I put my hands on a piano and such a nice one at that.
"Go ahead, play something."
I sat down slowly, my fingers just feeling the keys without pressing on them. I had no idea what to play. A memory full of songs and all I had to choose was one.
I started noodling around, listening for the tones, figuring which keys made the right pitches.
That's the problem with having played piano by ear, instead of a normal pianist, thinking to yourself that songs were in the key of C or started on a D, I had to remember the sound that it started on and guess the increments in my fingers.
I pressed a couple keys here. A few there. They all of a sudden as if my fingers never left in the first place, they glided so beautifully, playing songs I remembered from my church and moving to little songs I'd made up myself with chords that sounded good to me many years ago when I had the time to noodle on such an instrument.
That went on for several minutes, noodle a little bit with random sounds then all of a sudden another song would burst from them because I found the right notes. Then my fingers found my favourite song to play on the piano. Clocks by Coldplay. Such a peaceful melody. Brought me back to a time where I used to play alongside another pianist I know.
After moments passing I look up at the guys, "Ready?"
They just kinda smiled at me, looking like I played something miraculous, and nodded. On our way out we grabbed a card from the woman who owned the shop. She thanked us for stopping in and we were on our way.
The hotel was ready for us to check in.
Well. When I say us. I mean Superman. One. Only he was supposed to be stayin the night. But Remmington and I would be stayin in the same room. Reals sneaky like. So Superman went to go check in while we got the bags from the car that we checked into the parkin garage. Then we went to the room separately.
Superman and I got all showered before his meeting. I threw on some heels because we were gonna be taking a cab, and I can walk a few city blocks in heels. No big deal. we go down the escalator and around the block then we hail a cab from (what we didn't know at the time) the worst cab driver ever. He took us in a full out circle around the block before going the right way, then even after we gave him the address, he dropped us off and said our location would be a block up.
What. The. Eff. Motha fucka, it was two blocks up, across the fuckin hipster park, and another city block away! CITY blocks, people, that's some hiking to do when you're late for a meeting!
So Superman says YOLO LOL, and starts bookin it with materials in hand. Remmington and I look at his GPS and start following a ways behind him. I call it the hipster park because you should have seen the fucking people that were chillin in this little park in the middle of the crazy buildings. Dudes with no muscle mass and wearing three layered sweaters and a million layered scarves to match the women in the same scarves and pleated skirts and everyone wearing pantyhose and giant fucking glasses sipping their little cups of tea and coffee and reading books and chatting quietly at their meetings.
What the fuck hipster community.
And the other end of the spectrum was the grunge hipster bums chillin in the park with their dreads and smiling faces with other bums and flower children frolicking merrily. I don't even. Just. Incomplete thought.
Remmington and I finally make it to this lunch place. We walk in and everyone in there was so bourgeois I had to take a step back and make sure Dorothy was in Kansas. This place was packed with business men and women and this little nook even had a middle glass room for presentations. Yet there wasn't a buzz. You know that loud buzz that any luncheon place would have when there's a lot of people? Just the cluttered sounds of chattering and people enjoying themselves? No.
There was no enjoyable laughter or chatter. Just the hushed chit chat of ritzy bull shenanary that I didn't give shits about. Just wanted to sit down before I killed people.
A few city blocks in heels? Gucci. You want me to fuckin walk across town through Hipster Narnia into the bourgeois luncheon streets of New York because you're a shitty Taxi guide? Fuck people.
So Remmington sees Superman but it's not so simple as to just walk over to him.
Oh no.
The hostess with her pretty little face, "Do you have a reservation?"
Remmington has this, "We're with a party that is already seated."
"Last name please?" As she gets on her computer.
He says Superman's last name. Of course it doesn't come up, it's the dude he has the meeting with. Like we know his name.
Luckily, the dude comes up to get us, but oh no. Not like we can walk to our table with him.
"Sign in please."
OH FOR THE LOVE OF MARY
I look at the little type in screens and jot down some information. Something about wanting to email me.
For a fuggin business meeting? Dafuq?
We get seated and shake hands and blah blah. I already don't like the Indian guy that is brought to the meeting. He's a pretentious twat and I don't like the way he moves his hands. He's in a hurry to get somewhere so I don't have to listen to much of him anyway. They other two, Superman and the gentleman he has the meeting with- are already eating some lunch.
Upon asking if we'd like something, Remmington and I both deny food, but I decide to partake in one of the fancy ass drinks they have. The Roots- which contained beets, ginger, and carrots. All juices were made in the kitchen. There were some other interesting combinations but my stomach wasn't sitting right so I decided something with a little ginger would do me nice.
The meeting was so long. And Frenchie turned out to be super nice and somewhere in there mentioned going to France later in the year and throwing out and invite and I really wanted to be all, oh yeah, let me just dip into my Iranian funds that I have in that one bank overseas to fuckin pay for that shit. Like WHAT? Who the fuck are these people? But toward the end of the meeting is where I started to wake up. I will never. Ever. Forget what happened at the end of that meeting.
Pretty basic stuff, the waitress asks if we need anything else. Frenchie would like a double shot espresso, and Superman asks for a cookie. At first she said they had no more but soon after to come back and confirm that chocolate chip were fresh out of the oven. Superman accepts and Remmington accepts the offer for a cookie as well.
Ohhhh Remmington. Here is where the fun begins.
The waitress comes back with a bitch sized tea cup of espresso for Frenchie and a cookie each for the guys. I still sit there, silently as I ever have, watching. The guys are trying to take their time with their one cookie a piece. While Frenchie and Superman are talking, out of the corner of my eye I see it: the incident.
I'm sitting in the middle of Remmington and Superman, and French nearest superman at this little round table. French is almost directly across from me so it was easy to pay attention to their business and stay awake. I started to drift off....until the incident.
I see Remmington fumble and drop the last fourth of his cookie.
I see Remmington pick it up off the floor.
No. No man. Don't fucking do it. NO. Not in this bourgeois ass place of business.
I see him contemplate, trying to stare and stare hard at Frenchie in the eye so I didn't have to witness, he ate it. He fucking. Ate. It. I. Am. Dying. For the first time the entire hour meeting I crack a smile. I'm looking all over the room right now, trying to look for a ladies' room. Trying to find an exit out of this situation. Trying not to be the black woman in the room of conservative Amish people and refrain from bursting out, "OH HELL NAW WHITE BOY! NO THE HELL YOU DIDN'T YOU BETTA GET'CHO ASS UP AND WALK THE FUCK OUT! OH HELLLLLL NAWWWWW!!"
But I couldn't. I had to sit there. No escape. Trapped between the guys, meeting on one side, the incident on the other. I couldn't hold it in. I felt my face getting hot trying not to burst out in laughter. I was trying so hard to be respectful. I was looking around the room, staring at Frenchie which didn't help me because I couldn't help but think, motha fucka he's sittin right next to me, I know you saw that shit. I know you saw that fuckin shit. Smile damnit. Give me the okay to shit all over the place of laughter.
Nothing. Not a damn thing. So I looked down in my lap and silently laughed to myself. The meeting soon ended and even then I couldn't say anything to the guys. The Guilty and the Ignorant. I walked happily down the street toward the Hipster Park now more wide awake than I was.
"Let's walk. That was an expensive ass shitty cab ride here." Superman suggested.
Twenty seven city blocks. One pair of heels. Deep breath.
To be continued.
Then Superman says to me, "You know you gotta get her something. She said so."
Damnit. My demanding roommate Kandy was knocking at the back of my head, "You better get me something when you're there. I love New York and I wanna go ....." Blah blah it just kinda trails out from there. Damnit. So I start looking, wondering what to get her, still trying to remember all her little details, "Not like a damn keychain", and "I don't want a t-shirt, I want something that says New York, it doesn't necessarily have to say New York but something...." and again it trails off in the back of my head. On the glass shelves I saw something right away I knew she'd adore. A beer opener.
You don't get it, we're bartenders. We love our accessories. There are never enough.
For her to have a beer opener that had the iconic New York City scape in black, greys, and white all cool-like and shit, I would be the ultimate BFF. Don't get me wrong, I don't give a shit if she loves me and she doesn't give a shit if I love her. Not like a love/hate relationship. Like a hate/tolerate relationship. We know we don't like each other and that's what makes us US. But even if I don't give a shit, I could be the best hate friend EVER if I got her this.
Hell yeah.
But THEN something else on the other side of the glass shelving caught my eye- New York coasters. Plastic ones, paper ones, glass ones- coasters in every style with shit on them. This bitch has been bitchin at me about coasters ever since I got her shitty coasters for Christmas. Then she saw some cool ones one of our friends had and was all, "Why couldn't you get me cool ones like this?"
See, she's like my fuggin wife without me ever getting laid.
So I found a nice durable set that would look good on her glass coffee table. Double best friend. I got her some epic coasters so she'll never utter another word and I got her a bar accessory. I hadn't been on the New York streets for more than twenty minutes and I was already winning.
So we get outta there and keep walking down the same street. Just a few blocks ahead we can already see our next stop- all of the signs on the buildings, the people gathering, and even at eight in the mornin the lights were so vibrant on the street- Times Square. There was a amphitheater set up for seating but it didn't look like anything was going on at the time. I was caught up in all the bright lights and signs and advertisings that didn't seem to even distract the locals from their everyday walk to and from wherever it was they were going. The guys whipped out their phones and immediately began snapping pictures. We wandered around in the big clearing for a while, looking at all the different people, hearing different accents of all the travelers, then Superman brought us back to attention, " I Think the room might almost be done. We can come back later." We agreed then started back on our stroll.
There was a Hershey's building that we had to stop in. It reeked of chocolate but we were curious about it because the side of the building was super cool with all of it's Hershey candies represented and even working as gears next to the brick. Cool shit. We checked out all the giant Hershey mugs, Reese's hoodies, big candy bag mixes- you name it they had it, but what a fuggin headache. Like I said, reeked of chocolate.
We run outta there and back up toward the hotel. Superman calls. Still not ready yet. "I gotta super pee," I said. We looked kitty corner from the corner we were standing on. A little cafe placed there perfectly for my needs. We run over there and of course, only to customers. Easy enough. Superman gets a tea. Some sort of Jasmine Mint Hippy Loving Flower Cloud Green Mist something or another. I get the code and head to the back.
When I come out, the guys are ready for a little more wandering in the area. We step out and walk down the road a little ways and Superman nudges me, "You see that ahead?" he smiles and I look up and squint because I don't have my glasses on but when I read the sign my eyes got as big as an owl's.
"PIANOS?" I said.
"That's what it looks like."
"Thats's so funny! Because the other day we were just-"
"I know."
"Can we go in? Please? Will they let us?"
"We can see."
We walk up to the door of the piano shop and I walk in without hesitation. It was amazing how incredible small the shop was yet how many grands, baby grands, and stand up pianos they could fit in the place! I didn't see anyone at all in the shop. I started lurking through all the pianos when a small Asian woman came out from a crevasse somewhere in the wall. I said hello but she just kinda smiled and started to string a piano. They were all so beautiful. I couldn't touch them, though I really really wanted to.
Then a blonde lady came out from a doorway and greeted us. Asked us a few questions, told us about the shop, then asked if we wanted to see the new performance studio. We gladly accepted the small tour as she told us a little more about the place, renting the pianos, purchasing, and now that they had a studio, she told us they now rented the room for practice and also small performances.
The elegantly lit room was behind a sliding door and when she opened it I think I peed a little.
She walked us in the sound proof little room and opened the keys to the grand piano and asked if any of us played. "She does," Superman spoke up, "Well not really..." I trailed off. "You're free to play on it if you like. Go ahead, I'll be in the front and you enjoy yourselves and feel free to ask questions."
I could feel my eyes water. I was so excited. It had been a long time since I put my hands on a piano and such a nice one at that.
"Go ahead, play something."
I sat down slowly, my fingers just feeling the keys without pressing on them. I had no idea what to play. A memory full of songs and all I had to choose was one.
I started noodling around, listening for the tones, figuring which keys made the right pitches.
That's the problem with having played piano by ear, instead of a normal pianist, thinking to yourself that songs were in the key of C or started on a D, I had to remember the sound that it started on and guess the increments in my fingers.
I pressed a couple keys here. A few there. They all of a sudden as if my fingers never left in the first place, they glided so beautifully, playing songs I remembered from my church and moving to little songs I'd made up myself with chords that sounded good to me many years ago when I had the time to noodle on such an instrument.
That went on for several minutes, noodle a little bit with random sounds then all of a sudden another song would burst from them because I found the right notes. Then my fingers found my favourite song to play on the piano. Clocks by Coldplay. Such a peaceful melody. Brought me back to a time where I used to play alongside another pianist I know.
After moments passing I look up at the guys, "Ready?"
They just kinda smiled at me, looking like I played something miraculous, and nodded. On our way out we grabbed a card from the woman who owned the shop. She thanked us for stopping in and we were on our way.
The hotel was ready for us to check in.
Well. When I say us. I mean Superman. One. Only he was supposed to be stayin the night. But Remmington and I would be stayin in the same room. Reals sneaky like. So Superman went to go check in while we got the bags from the car that we checked into the parkin garage. Then we went to the room separately.
Superman and I got all showered before his meeting. I threw on some heels because we were gonna be taking a cab, and I can walk a few city blocks in heels. No big deal. we go down the escalator and around the block then we hail a cab from (what we didn't know at the time) the worst cab driver ever. He took us in a full out circle around the block before going the right way, then even after we gave him the address, he dropped us off and said our location would be a block up.
What. The. Eff. Motha fucka, it was two blocks up, across the fuckin hipster park, and another city block away! CITY blocks, people, that's some hiking to do when you're late for a meeting!
So Superman says YOLO LOL, and starts bookin it with materials in hand. Remmington and I look at his GPS and start following a ways behind him. I call it the hipster park because you should have seen the fucking people that were chillin in this little park in the middle of the crazy buildings. Dudes with no muscle mass and wearing three layered sweaters and a million layered scarves to match the women in the same scarves and pleated skirts and everyone wearing pantyhose and giant fucking glasses sipping their little cups of tea and coffee and reading books and chatting quietly at their meetings.
What the fuck hipster community.
And the other end of the spectrum was the grunge hipster bums chillin in the park with their dreads and smiling faces with other bums and flower children frolicking merrily. I don't even. Just. Incomplete thought.
Remmington and I finally make it to this lunch place. We walk in and everyone in there was so bourgeois I had to take a step back and make sure Dorothy was in Kansas. This place was packed with business men and women and this little nook even had a middle glass room for presentations. Yet there wasn't a buzz. You know that loud buzz that any luncheon place would have when there's a lot of people? Just the cluttered sounds of chattering and people enjoying themselves? No.
There was no enjoyable laughter or chatter. Just the hushed chit chat of ritzy bull shenanary that I didn't give shits about. Just wanted to sit down before I killed people.
A few city blocks in heels? Gucci. You want me to fuckin walk across town through Hipster Narnia into the bourgeois luncheon streets of New York because you're a shitty Taxi guide? Fuck people.
So Remmington sees Superman but it's not so simple as to just walk over to him.
Oh no.
The hostess with her pretty little face, "Do you have a reservation?"
Remmington has this, "We're with a party that is already seated."
"Last name please?" As she gets on her computer.
He says Superman's last name. Of course it doesn't come up, it's the dude he has the meeting with. Like we know his name.
Luckily, the dude comes up to get us, but oh no. Not like we can walk to our table with him.
"Sign in please."
OH FOR THE LOVE OF MARY
I look at the little type in screens and jot down some information. Something about wanting to email me.
For a fuggin business meeting? Dafuq?
We get seated and shake hands and blah blah. I already don't like the Indian guy that is brought to the meeting. He's a pretentious twat and I don't like the way he moves his hands. He's in a hurry to get somewhere so I don't have to listen to much of him anyway. They other two, Superman and the gentleman he has the meeting with- are already eating some lunch.
Upon asking if we'd like something, Remmington and I both deny food, but I decide to partake in one of the fancy ass drinks they have. The Roots- which contained beets, ginger, and carrots. All juices were made in the kitchen. There were some other interesting combinations but my stomach wasn't sitting right so I decided something with a little ginger would do me nice.
The meeting was so long. And Frenchie turned out to be super nice and somewhere in there mentioned going to France later in the year and throwing out and invite and I really wanted to be all, oh yeah, let me just dip into my Iranian funds that I have in that one bank overseas to fuckin pay for that shit. Like WHAT? Who the fuck are these people? But toward the end of the meeting is where I started to wake up. I will never. Ever. Forget what happened at the end of that meeting.
Pretty basic stuff, the waitress asks if we need anything else. Frenchie would like a double shot espresso, and Superman asks for a cookie. At first she said they had no more but soon after to come back and confirm that chocolate chip were fresh out of the oven. Superman accepts and Remmington accepts the offer for a cookie as well.
Ohhhh Remmington. Here is where the fun begins.
The waitress comes back with a bitch sized tea cup of espresso for Frenchie and a cookie each for the guys. I still sit there, silently as I ever have, watching. The guys are trying to take their time with their one cookie a piece. While Frenchie and Superman are talking, out of the corner of my eye I see it: the incident.
I'm sitting in the middle of Remmington and Superman, and French nearest superman at this little round table. French is almost directly across from me so it was easy to pay attention to their business and stay awake. I started to drift off....until the incident.
I see Remmington fumble and drop the last fourth of his cookie.
I see Remmington pick it up off the floor.
No. No man. Don't fucking do it. NO. Not in this bourgeois ass place of business.
I see him contemplate, trying to stare and stare hard at Frenchie in the eye so I didn't have to witness, he ate it. He fucking. Ate. It. I. Am. Dying. For the first time the entire hour meeting I crack a smile. I'm looking all over the room right now, trying to look for a ladies' room. Trying to find an exit out of this situation. Trying not to be the black woman in the room of conservative Amish people and refrain from bursting out, "OH HELL NAW WHITE BOY! NO THE HELL YOU DIDN'T YOU BETTA GET'CHO ASS UP AND WALK THE FUCK OUT! OH HELLLLLL NAWWWWW!!"
But I couldn't. I had to sit there. No escape. Trapped between the guys, meeting on one side, the incident on the other. I couldn't hold it in. I felt my face getting hot trying not to burst out in laughter. I was trying so hard to be respectful. I was looking around the room, staring at Frenchie which didn't help me because I couldn't help but think, motha fucka he's sittin right next to me, I know you saw that shit. I know you saw that fuckin shit. Smile damnit. Give me the okay to shit all over the place of laughter.
Nothing. Not a damn thing. So I looked down in my lap and silently laughed to myself. The meeting soon ended and even then I couldn't say anything to the guys. The Guilty and the Ignorant. I walked happily down the street toward the Hipster Park now more wide awake than I was.
"Let's walk. That was an expensive ass shitty cab ride here." Superman suggested.
Twenty seven city blocks. One pair of heels. Deep breath.
To be continued.
