Barred

Barred: Bar Below Rye

ghost_pottery

When: Tuesday, 8:48pm

What did I drink? Strictly Rhythm (Beefeater gin, Aperol, Dolin Dry, grapefruit bitters, Zucca) $11; two Bulleit bourbons on the rocks, price unknown.

“Ghost! Just because I’m a potter doesn’t mean I like Ghost!”

Bar Below Rye isn’t huge, and was lacking enough bodies to ensure a conversation-muffling din. Even over Cults, Sleigh Bells and Belle and Sebastian, bands that wouldn’t be out of bounds on a Brooklyn middle-ager’s Walkman iPod shouts traveled down the bar.

Ghost? A one-named underground potter that I wasn’t enough in the know to identify? Before Jonathan Adler had a string of retail stores (and dishes I couldn’t resist on One Kings Lane) his name would pop up in media as a celebrity potter, so it was an entirely implausible evolution.

Parsing, parsing…ah, Patrick Swayze was the impetus for the outrage.

I suggested that enough time would eventually pass and new crops wouldn’t  be familiar with the movie, underestimating the millennial love of the ‘90s.

“I’m under 30 and everyone still says it,” the potter lamented.

Of course they do. And 23 years later Ghost is becoming a TV show.

Ghost inevitably led to Ghost Dad, which again triggered talk of Ghost Dog.

Age appropriate? Not in the literal sense, but the drunk and chatty vibe wasn’t exclusionary. Soon enough we’ll all be ghosts.

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