(To see the rest of "Starry Night," go to College Hill Review at www.collegehillreview.com/002/0020501.html,)
At five I go to the address on Lafayette Street. It’s a cocktail bar Kim read about in New York Magazine. It doesn’t have a name and there’s no sign; you just have to be in the know. That’s the kind of thing she loves.
I find the number on a big black door. It’s a horror movie type of door. The kind that the girl always pushes open and walks through anyway.
I push it open and walk through anyway. I go past the dark, shiny bar where lime-colored lights shoot up behind the bottles. Then, into a darkish room. Hundreds of tiny hanging lights are supposed to look like stars in a black night sky.
No Kim or Christopher yet.
Well, I certainly don’t mind sitting here alone. I order a Jameson and sit back. I’m almost the only one here. Maybe they should put up a sign.
But no, it looks like a lot of people have been reading New York magazine, because soon the place starts to fill up.
The little tables are so close together you’ve got to listen to everybody’s conversation. On my right are two girls with a bottle of white wine. One of the girls has a big secret that she can’t tell her friend. On my left are two other girls drinking orange martinis out of glasses the size of soup bowls. One of these girls has something she just has to tell.
I like New York and I’m not sorry I came, but I have noticed, it’s nearly impossible to drink in peace. . .