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.
