There’s $100 in my wallet and I’m into my third (out of six)
martinis at the near-empty Plaza Hotel’s Oak Bar, NYC. A man, one-third my age,
wearing oxblood slip-ons without socks, looks my way for fifteen seconds, sits
next to me at the bar.
Oxblood: Brit, eh?
I nod.
Oxblood: I can always tell.
I say nothing. He waits. Says: Sheesh.
I say nothing.
Oxblood (Rising impatience): C’mon. Don’t you wanna know why?
RR: I can guess.
Oxblood (Waits): Well, guess then.
I shake my head.
Oxblood: Guy, you could be wrong.
RR: I dare say.
Oxblood: You wanna get up my nose? That’s it. Up my nose.
RR: It’s kind of on offer. Your nose, I mean. But no, I’d
rather not.
Oxblood (Mumbling): Trying to be friendly.
RR: No, you’re not. This is Noo York City. You’re putting me
down. Trying to. (Deep sigh) For what it’s worth, it’s the chinos.
Oxblood (Astonished): You knew!
RR: As I said, it’s The Big Apple. Predictable as winter
after fall. The answer’s going to shock you, but… hey! The answer’s: every six
months, sometimes longer.
Oxblood (Mouth, half-open, stays that way. The pure village
idiot except this is the self-described City of Sophistication. Gulps in
air, starts to stammer): I can’t… I just can’t… Look, let me get this straight.
How can you…? No, first things. Is that a martini? Lemme…
RR: I buy my own drinks.
Oxblood (Struggling to smile): Kinda rude, eh? I thought you
Brits were supposed to be polite.
RR: Best I pay my own way…
Oxblood: The Plaza’s not cheap.
RR: I know that. You buy me a drink, we
talk, soon we argue. You get angry, call me a panhandler because you bought me the drink. New York’s so
predictable.
(More follows)
SO good! Can't wait for more.
ReplyDeleteI love this conversation. Looking forward to the next post!
ReplyDeleteColette/robin andrea: Yeah, thanks. But what's likely? Who are you rooting for? Does it ring any of your chimes?
ReplyDeleteI'm a gregarious and puppy-like American.
DeleteScenario 1: If I was the American and you talked to me like that it would hurt my feelings. But I am a woman, and I would not go into a bar alone, let alone talk to a strange man wearing chinos.
Scenario 2: If I were a woman alone in a bar and a man came on that aggressively, I would be annoyed and I hope I could be as rude as you to get rid of him.
If I was a British man sitting in the Plaza bar and an American man tried to talk to me ... well, I have no idea what I'd do. It would depend on if I was in the mood for aggressively friendly Americans. But I do like your attitude in this story. A lot.
I also wonder what you wait six months for.
Colete: Aha!
DeleteIt's been so long since I sat at a bar I'm not sure I'd know what to do. Back in the day, I would have simply turned my back to the guy, not wanting to engage in any way. In the scenario you describe, I am rooting for the person who is calm and has no issues with banal bar talk. Who would that be? I have no idea.
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