< topography - Gramercy


3 @ 29
Lone Star, free country music, free peanuts (and shells all over the floor, everywhere), and the crowd that develops as a result—all reasons to visit the Rodeo at least once. The location, hm-hm, sucks, but where else are you going to have the opportunity to order your drinks from the side of an aluminum trailer that's had one side cut out so that it has the appearance of a booth at the fair?

Gramercy Park Hotel
Lexington, 21/22
[Back in The Day, as They say, when along my almost nightly walk—from dropping off Punky chez Punky to dropping off myself chez moi or Jimmy—I would hook by that little park and sometimes as a result, by that little hotel, and galvanized by the tinkling of the piano straying onto Lex, I would idle the circumstances in which I might be found having a drink there. A secret rendezvous with my incognito celebrity lover? Shots to ease the pain of my catastrophic losses on Wall Street? After the wedding rehearsal of some obscure acquaintance? ...I am sitting in the shadow of an enormous television, being served by a man in a bow tie, meeting out-of-town friends of ten years, sipping a small bourbon and soda, not at all disappointed with this narrow carpeted lounge. I eat an entire bowl of crackers.]

119 Bar
16 @ Irving Pl
If you were, say, Virgil or Horace, you might spend your entire life in pursuit of the perfect verses with which to immortalize this, eh-hem, paragon of excellence. Thanks to something elusive in its atmosphere, 119 never fails to please, could almost be a primary destination if not for its astronomical latitude: some 16 clicks above The Tropic of Houston. [I'm not sure why after countless returns, I chose not to amp my little ditty on 119. Well. NYU razed the Paladium, replacing it with a dorm. Whatever. Apropos 119, the concrete effects were and are a slight price increase and a younger group of patrons. But there remains a trace of that 'something elusive,' and you can still throw a few back in peace, even if the street is thronged with Irving Plaza spill, -off or -out. 'Astronomical latitude' was disastrously shortsighted. So topography goes, kittlings.] [A beautiful place in which to rendezvous on a chilly Sunday night, shoot a game of pool maybe, and pee.] { Jakeed 6/3/01: that's sometimes true of Sunday nights sure but try on a summer Saturday for size and see if you're still singing the same silly song or if you'll be changing that to Night Of The Living Jocks son sheesh at least they slotted all of  Nevermind missed the first tune but it sure would have been ironic as a soundtrack to coed binge drinking idiocy like this one guy I saw who jumped a girl's bones and made out with her for awhile and then when her head hit the bar he just left her passed out there and went off in search of other muff what? believe it this place can get  UGLY} { Cassandra 6/6/01: Punk rock meets frat jock. A very busy 3AM on a Saturday night and these folks have been going at it for a long time. I get the wrong drink from the tattooed, spike belted bartender. A Nirvana medley on the box, cranked to the threshold of pain. Some dude (pardon my French) in a button down shirt tucked into his khakis is sucking face with a badly bleached blond clad entirely in white spandex. After about 15 minutes she gets too drunk to hold up her head. He looks around nervously and then flees back to his circle of meathead friends. Some people carry her out after a little nap on the bar. I liked this place much better the last time I was here. A September week night, sparsely populated and not with jocks. It is better than the other options in this part of town, but not worth a trip unless you are in the neighborhood. At least it's always dark and dirty.}

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