By far the coolest thing I did in New York.
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29 December 2008 at 12:43 | Edit Note | Delete
On a recent trip to New York city I had the rousing fortune of happening across an advert in the New York Times advertising a Christopher Hitchens debate on the upper west side.
Circling the time/date/location I made a mental (as well as physical note) to get thine ass to said presentation on the eve in question.
As the days passed I found myself somewhat perturbed by the subway line on the west side, and as such, often lost or left roaming. All well in good when you’ve no place to be in a hurry. A bloody nightmare if you’re exhausted and keep nodding off on board, missing your stop, losing the address of your hotel, for example., etc.
I digress.
It was a Tuesday evening and I had resigned myself, after some 3 hours of missing my stop and ending up in Brooklyn with tired feet and a brain full of Champix, to the fact that I would perhaps, in such a state, be incapable of dealing with the added stress of finding yet another location on the west side and so, instead opted for a dirty martini at a local jazz house and an early night.
It was at this little hole in the wall establishment that I asked for a table to myself in a corner some place where I would not be poached by anyone out on the Dating Prowl.
I find this funny about New York. I used to think Sex In The City was a sitcom. Its not. Its a fairly accurate representation of a culture obsessed with dating and absolutely terrified of solitude, or so at least it seems to me… Again, I digress.
The doorman insisting that perhaps I would be more “comfortable” sitting on my own at the bar greeted me with a rather opposing sense of pity. “I actually wouldn’t mind hiding to be honest” was my response. To which he laughed and informed me that “…physical bars, like tables, also have corners.”
And so there I was seated. Happy hour. Fabulous. Somewhat exposed but open to the arrangement.
Seated to my right was an older gentleman with a book and a martini, to my left a middle-aged Jewish woman. Overhearing me place my order with the bar tender, she, the middle-aged jewish woman with the red wine lent in toward me and said, “Australian?” And from there things flew naturally and unequivocally. I liked her.
She like the dirty martini and the establishment and to a large degree the Jewish population of NYC seemed fairly fabulous. We clicked almost immediately. “I don’t really like people,” she added. “I don’t really like pretending someone is riveting when they’re not. You know a lot of people are really not that interesting at all.” She continued. Eventually asking me what my plans were for the rest of the evening.
New Yorkers, it seems, always make plans. Have plans. Keep plans. Lots of plans. Talk about their plans. This seems to be what they do. So this was of course, when I mentioned to her the Christopher Hitchens debate with a very well known local rabbi (whose name I have forgotten and am unable to locate– and would be delighted if if anyone knows or can come to know the the debate I speak of or the Synagogue on the lower west side I’m referring to– the worlds largest (or at least wealthiest) Synagogue I am told. Any takers?
The woman sitting next to me at the bar looks at me gob smacked at this stage. “You know about that? How do you know about that? You’re not Jewish? Are you Jewish? No. How do you know about that? Thats where I’m heading after I finish my vino. Would you care to join me?”
Perfect.
So off we sauntered into the night. Me with the luxury of observing my surrounds rather than having to navigate and survive– her talking wildly about New York city and all things Christopher Hutchins. Good times.
The particular debate that I attended, to my knowledge, was not recorded, or at least I am unable to locate it online. Here is a debate of his with Rabbi Shmuley Boteach of a very, very similar nature.
Enjoy. As I did.
halal.
