History in the Making

So.  About standing on that sidewalk, watching Gary get into that taxi to go home while I stay here, all by myself, for an indefinite amount of time:

Ouch.

But that’s part of the experience, I suppose.  But, you know – ouch.

At least there’s Skype.  :)

I go to Queens on Tuesday to meet with my internship peeps.  So excited to meet them in person and find out que cosas interesantes I’ll be working on.  I look forward to having things to do to take my mind off of being by myself out here.  I knew it would be a bit lonely in the pub last night, and I thought I’d prepared myself for that, but it kind of felt worse than I’d imagined.  The bartender was very helpful and I tipped him well for his awareness of my social predicament.  I promised to be back, but I’m not sure I’ll go during peak hours.  A Guinness black & tan turns out to be quite lovely on a muggy Manhattan afternoon.  This from the girl who always says “I don’t like beer.”  Who knew?

But how excited am I now that my old friend Laura, who I met years ago under precarious NAU work-slash-Monte Vista Lounge-vampire-crowd circumstances in Flagstaff, now in Rhode Island, is coming out to the City for a weekend!  I haven’t seen her in over a decade.  It will be fantastic, as we share the same quirky interests in old historical matters and funky bohemian artsy-fartsy.  I’m talking the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, a ‘Gangs of New York and the Bloody Five Points’ walking tour, a walk on the High Line, countless old Irish pubs, et al.  It will be a weekend filled with laughs, plenty of Guinness, and history – both of New York and our friendship.  Looking forward to getting to know her all over again.

The Irish Pub Challenge

Walked on over to Kinsale’s for a welcome Irish setting and hopefully a good corned beef sandwich.  I was not disappointed.  I settled in at the bar and ordered a black & tan, which was served up immediately by the bartender, who asked me my name, introduced himself as Chris, and shook my hand firmly.  I think that’s the first stranger’s hand I’ve been offered since I got here.  Made a mental note to tip him higher than usual for that.

Enjoyed my dinner immensely.  Glanced at the liquor shelf behind the bar and spotted a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey.  Thought, why not?  Was relaxed enough from the black & tan to have no scruples about asking what might be good mixed with the Jameson – other than water.  Chris suggested ginger ale; sounded great.  Turned out to be a semi-pleasant evening, overall, but for the pangs of loneliness when no one seemed to be answering my texts.  Bad time to be texting people back home, I suppose.  It was about 7:30 pm here but only 4:30 back home.  At least I could pretend to enjoy the baseball game that was on one of the monitors.

A young child screamed out in his childishness from the restaurant behind the bar.  A second scream, and I looked at Chris and said “Glad I don’t have one of those!”  He agreed – and pointed out that he never did understand why people bring their children to bars.  A funny conversation commenced.  I learned that Chris just moved here to the Upper East Side with his girlfriend after living across the river for 2 years.  He learned that I’m new in town and just moved in down the street, and welcomed me to the City.  I think this place will be a nice little regular stop for me, if I could just get over the lonesome feeling that being in a bar setting seems to conjure.

Seems that a woman alone in a bar with a wedding ring on harbors more suspicious questions than general curiosity.  Perhaps a lot of assumptions are made.  Perhaps no one even notices or cares.  All I know is that it felt very strange.  I would like to work on getting over that insecurity, because it would be nice to just be able to duck into the nearest pub and strike up a conversation with someone interesting – who doesn’t think I’m hitting on them and doesn’t want to hit on me – it’s just friendly conversation. 

So as far as my secondary NYC agenda, which involves breaking out of my shell and conquering my debilitating shyness, I think the Irish Pub Challenge is where it’s at.