Barred: Oak & Iron

When: Saturday, after midnight

As you may have heard, Greenpoint is the number one neighborhood in the entire universe for millennials. Just because only 15% of residents fall into my advanced age group compared to 32% for 25s-34s, two friends (42 and 44) were still not thwarted from having birthday drinks at Oak & Iron.

Greenpoint’s number one status also hasn’t staunched the flow of extremely drunk young men fresh off the boat (ok, plane) from Warsaw. A straight-up “wild and crazy guys” (technically, more boomer humor than middle-aged laughs) crew was present, but gold medallions and denim caps have been updated with fitted leather jackets and Hitler cuts. One member, incapable of reading body language and go-away scowls, decided to sit at the end of our booth anyway and play a game of telephone starting with me.

In a whisper loud enough for the whole table to hear, I was meant to pass along the question “What’s your husband?”

This was followed by a gleeful cackle, addressed to no one in particular, followed by “You’re a mother!”

Ok, dude, we can play. “What’s your wife?”

“I am divorced!” he declared like it was the ultimate burn, and then with an aggressive flick of the wrist yelled “In your face!”

We were temporarily rescued when his more coherent friends decided it was time to leave. “Let’s go to Bedford,” one said, because even recent immigrants know that’s their scene. They left, he came back and began mumbling at the bar.

Age appropriate? Not in the literal sense. But it’s a fine place for playing MILF with techo-loving construction workers who speak in broken English.

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