I was in a very bad bar last Friday night. I’m not going to tell you which one, but it’s in the Financial District, adjacent to the Occupy Wall Street protest’s base of operations, and it sucks. The service sucked, the music sucked, and beer after beer, no matter which ones we tried, seemed to come, as my British friend said, from a “dodgy line.”
I didn’t get drunk.
I really don’t get drunk very often anymore. That’s a nice change. The last time I was drunk was at a Yankee game two months ago. I was celebrating finding out about the free New York Waterways boat from South Street Seaport to Yankee Stadium. I started drinking at 10:30 in the morning and finished up approximately sixteen hours later at a bar on the Upper West Side.
I didn’t curse at anyone, lose my phone or wallet, or get in a fight. My bladder held up well. I was relatively coherent when I made it home. Life was good. It seems to be staying that way.