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Barred: Bar Below Rye
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
WalkmaniPod 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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Barred: Bossa Nova Civic Club
When: Tuesday, 11:49pm
What did I drink? Bossa Nova Smash (Old Overholt Rye, lemon, mint) $9. After midnight it became ladies’ night, therefore two for one, so a number of gin and tonics and beers were also consumed.
Bossa Nova Civic Club was the setting for a double birthday party. The women were turning 39 and 40, one visiting from Miami along with her 19-year-old son who is a DJ and lives in Williamsburg, which is kind of hard to fathom. “A grown man came out of your body!” (Unbeknownst to me, I was sitting next to the son earlier at The Rookery’s bar. I hadn’t seen this now-adult since he was in preschool.)If it’s good enough for Florent, right? (And yes, he showed up at the end of the night.)
There were gay men, black men, old men, even a Goth man named Geronimo who may or may not have been Native American. What there wasn’t were the typical L train Bushwickers and their beards and plaid. House music will have that effect.
Oh, there also weren’t any women over 40. It’s hard enough finding middle-aged women out and about as it is, and those who’ll stay out till 4am dancing on a weeknight are a rarer species still. Where are you?
Was I carded? Yes
Age appropriate? I would still say yes since Bossa Nova operates outside of typical Brooklyn bar conventions. A twentysomething from the neighborhood who was surprisingly welcoming of gentrification (more things to do) even gave me his number. (I didn’t ask–he told me to put it in my phone and watched as I typed so I had no choice.)
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Screen Time: American Horror Story
Fiona is certainly not happy about her waning powers and increasing decrepitude, never mind that her hair is falling out in chemo-induced tufts. She may be supreme of the coven, but she’s not immortal. (What’s Angela Bassett’s secret?)
All said, I do appreciate that she’s out and about, drinking whiskey and martinis, despite always being the oldest woman in the bar. Unfortunately, that’s made her prey for the reanimated ghost of an axe murderer who’s been stalking her since she was a teenage witch. All he had to do was call her “pretty lady.” It’s tough out there.
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Barred: St. Mazie
When: Thursday, 6:55pm
What did I drink? House white that was something Italian, not the rioja blanca on the menu ($9), gin and tonic (?)After nine months living a block from St. Mazie, I finally paid a visit only after getting locked out of my apartment for the first time. I had been under the impression that the bar was Spanish (there’s flamenco, right?) which didn’t appear to be the case at all. There were some young men at the bar, one in a trucker hat, drinking bottles of Brooklyn lager. I frequently walk past a sign on the corner advertising $1 oysters. No evidence of this special was listed inside. I’m sure that St. Mazie has something going for it–live music appears to be their thing–I just wasn’t able to unearth it on this visit.
Age appropriate? Mostly in atmosphere, not clientele. By 7:40pm two middle-aged-ish men had appeared, both with women who looked to be a good decade younger. It’s also quite possible that the guys just hadn’t aged well.
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Barred: The Randolph
When: Thursday, 7:11pm; Saturday, 10:53pm
What did I drink? B Side Daiquiri Down (rum, rye, honey, lime, Aphrodite bitters), Randolph Paloma (Holland pepper-infused tequila, lime, grapefruit, strawberry, agave nectar, smoked salts) $12Though the style The Randolph in Brooklyn is going for is that rock and roll ‘70s/’80s intersection that’s gaining popularity–old timey meaning neon, graffiti and eight-tracks–the feeling is refreshingly midwestern. The space is midwestern big (where else in NYC are two allowed to take up a booth?), the staff is midwestern friendly and the clientele is kind of uncool, which yes, I’m equating with the midwest too.
There’s also the matter of young customers and old people music. And I don’t mean ’80s pop so much as We Five (I’ve always loved their one hit) Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Neil Diamond and REO Speedwagon (popular in the ’80s but not ’80s pop). It’s jarring. The closest thing to an old person is the gray-beard bartender who appears to be firmly in his 30s.
Was I carded? Apologetically on the weekend. I wasn’t clear if the “sorry” was for having to card period or because it was so ludicrous based on my appearance.
Age appropriate? Not so much. One visit was on Halloween when a friend was dressed as The Greatest American Hero. Her coworkers didn’t know who that was, and I’m doubtful that anyone at The Randolph did either, despite the nostalgia embraces elsewhere. -
Barred: McKeown’s
When: Thursday, 6:31pm
What did I drink? Pint of Bass ($4); Maker’s Mark on the rocks ($10)Though all Irish pubs, Upper East Side and otherwise, look the same, and I thought I had blocked out this incident, I’m fairly certain upon this random re-visit that McKeown’s was where I had a few (seriously, only two) beers before my 2008 birthday dinner when I got sick at the table at Cafe Boulud and threw up in a planter out front. I do not blame McKeown’s. This was also a stop off before a belated birthday dinner, this time at JG Melon (the difference five years makes).
There were young white kids that I would’ve pegged as Mormons if not drinking happy hour beers, men of retirement age, wrapping things up by 7pm bottled beer only, who mostly knew each other, and one woman who I like to believe was at least 40 because she wanted a white wine spritzer, sauvignon blanc, not pinot grigio, but was probably only 35 because she was British, and I don’t know, English ladies age differently.
As someone who has recently taken to Aperol spritzes, I won’t mock a white wine spritzer drinker. If anything, they are less likely to induce dinnertime vomiting.
Age appropriate? Yes, but more so If you’re an old guy with rough edges.
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Barred: Niagara
When: Friday, 6:45pm
What did I drink? Two Goose Island IPAs ($3 each, one bought for me)
This was my first date in 14 years and I mean that nearly literally. I consider my last date to have taken place over Labor Day weekend 1999.
Today, there was much written about that 40 Days of Dating couple. I can only assume, or hope, that it ended in a murder suicide. I’m not clicking any of those links. None of it will matter by next week. (If by chance someone reads this in the future, even the near future, will they have the faintest memory of what this even refers to?)
I had a realization. Because I’m single and childless in my 40s and most of my friends are single and childless and in the same age range, and we are all fun to be around, can hold a conversation and are not completely broken, I assumed that I should be looking for a guy who is also childless and never married, but I don’t think it’s the same for men. Men who have made it to this point in life and have never had a serious relationship or found a woman who wants to procreate with them, tend to be weird. There, I said it. Sexist.
Also, I didn’t realize how many short (and by short, I mean shorter than me, 5’8") and bald men were out in the world. I’m lookist, too. If a guy puts his height on Tinder, though (saying you’re 6’2" when no one asked is like a woman listing she’s 110 pounds) that’s an automatic “nope” because vanity. No photos with newborns either, and definitely no shirtless photos.
And while I’m drawn to underdogs and am repulsed by bravado and status-obsession, I like some nice things, and will pay good money for them. Someone who wouldn’t balk at a $200+ dinner (I just bought tickets to Alinea for when I’m in Chicago for work at the end of the month) or a $300 bottle of perfume (I haven’t shelled out the cash on this yet) but is also not a douche, is not easy to find. I was going to say that I’m classist or careerist, but I’m the opposite of both of those. I do not abide underachieving at this point in life, though.
Age appropriate? Like Williamsburg, I’m not sure that any of the East Village is truly age appropriate anymore. A woman at the bar was telling what seemed like a first date (though she mentioned a boyfriend) about how her parents let her boyfriend stay over in her basement bedroom when she was in high school and this was a military family, but she got away with it because she had older siblings. Tell me about it. I was the oldest, never getting a break, always paving the way. She was 31, and fairly representative of the happy hour crowd. The oldest person in the bar was probably my date, 45, undeniably middle aged.
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Who know how old detective Sonya Cross is meant to be on The Bridge, but Diane Kruger is old enough (37) to be an older woman at the bar. It’s hard to gauge whether this particular El Paso honky tonk is age appropriate or not because the Asperger’s-y character arrives with the sole purpose of getting laid and draws male attention within seconds of walking in the door, end scene. Middle-aged drinking is different if you’re Diane Kruger.
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Barred: Jackie’s 5th Amendment
When: Saturday, 11:26pm
What did I drink? Bottle of Heineken.
Metal buckets of beer, sluggish air conditioning, “Moves Like Jagger” and “Empire State of Mind” on jukebox repeat, a legit grandma-aged woman at the end of the bar, and a young lady bartending in a ratty Daniel Johnston t-shirt, despite the bar’s anti-hipster petition, all make for a not unpleasant experience.
I would’ve stayed for a second drink if I knew what awaited me at Mission Dolores.
Age appropriate? If anything, this is what a dive does best. There will always be at least one woman older than you no matter how old you get.
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Barred: Bar 360
When: Friday, 4:22pm
What did I drink? Tanqueray & tonic in a plastic cup ($8).
World Resort Casino at the Aquaduct didn’t live up to my not-that-high standards because it lacked three very important casino staples: Keno, free drinks and indoor smoking. I rarely visit casinos because I’m not a gambler, but when I do go I’m not looking out for my health.
I had to sneak out the propped open doors (no reentry, my ass) along with all the Chinese men to have a cigarette, and was forced to pay my own money for a cocktail. I also lost $24.84 playing slots, which are not my game.
There were only 12 patrons indoors drinking in Ozone Queens on their Friday off, but three were women clearly over 40. Baseball caps, moustaches and gold chains belonged to the men. One gentleman was using a Kindle with a reading lamp attached, no matter that the bar was lit bright as day from the towering video screens advertising upcoming shows, including a disco event hosted by Deney Terrio (?!)
Was I carded? No, but there were prominently displayed “We ID” signs.
Age appropriate? Nearly everyone was old enough to have seen Dance Fever on broadcast TV.
