Yesterday I went out with some friends. We started at a place that's quickly becoming a new standby on the Upper West Side - Cafe Ronda. It's good, not great - the patatas bravas aren't that great, for instance. The sangria, on the other hand is a bit too good. Last time I was there I went with a group for happy hour. They go often. So last night I showed up and the waitress gave me a big smile. Dinner was fun, a bit too loud for me, but fun. When dinner ended, the inevitable question came up - where should we go now? And I was supposed to have an answer! I came up with one which I thought was GREAT - The Boat Basin. I'd never been but had heard all about it - a cute little place on the river - it was a perfect night for it. Warm, clear and we were close. Even so, we took a taxi -- one in the party had some blisters going on and I'm never one to not take a taxi!
We got there and the deception of it all sunk in. No wonder I hadn't been there! While I had heard all these great things and imagined it from the little bit I had seen of it from my infrequent walks along the river when I lived in that part of town, it was all wrong. The picture isn't the best but what you can see (or maybe not but I'll tell you!) is a whole lot of plastic tables with plastic chairs and plastic tableclothes.
While the architecture is pretty, this place is vast and the clientelle - while varied - edged on frat-partyish. There was a bachelorette party there - veil and all. The pitchers of cheap beer were flowing. This was a place for 20-something year olds with some other older folks thrown in for the mix. I'm thinking this might be a great place for sunset -- if the sun sets in that direction!? Maybe it's a question of mid-week vs. weekend? But I can honestly say I won't be heading there anytime soon on a Saturday night.
And so we left. We headed back into the city (vs. on the edge) and while we passed outdoor restaurants which looked lovely and calm and ideal places for good conversations, the group moved past them. We ended up at another bar. This time the music was so loud my throat started hurting from trying to be heard. I stopped talking much, unless necessary. By the time the team agreed to leave, I left my bad wine with delight and moved on. Why do bars think the music needs to be louder than loud - they're not dance clubs? And why or why don't all bars have a good bottle of wine on hand for me to have a decent drink?
Final try? The Irish bar I was trying to avoid. It was the best one of the night. We actually had drama with a bachelor party -- the friends were trash talking the groom -- he wasn't in love, he was after the fiancee's multimillion dollar trust fund. Lovely. The groom told us he loved her. He also told us that there were so many things he hated about her but despite it all, he loved her -- I find it amazing that you would say this about your wife-to-be-in-just-one-week. Was it the money? I don't know. But I think that would be the ultimate deception. I guess my little night of deceptions won't compare to that bride's life of one big one.