Good morning. Hello. How are you? #735
A trip to NYC. Butterscotch. Dimes Square. Hurricane Ian prep.
Good morning! Hello! Happy Friday. As you may have noticed, I skipped a day. I went to New York. For one night. Had every intention of still writing a GMHHAY, I even got a playlist ready. It did not, alas, happen. Sleep happened.
Had to hit the city for a work meeting that needed to happen before the end of October. So I did that. I was also coincidentally in town for a big work lunch. I’d deleted it from my calendar a week or so ago, thinking “well I’m not gonna be in the city” but then I happened to be. I only remembered as I was landing and they were talking about it on slack. I was an hour late, but I made it. It was pretty exciting. I hadn’t seen my coworkers, any of them except one, in person in well over two years.
As we were walking after lunch one of my coworkers said “so I read your email newsletter.” (Hi Ian.) “It’s not really about anything. But it’s still compelling and I can’t really stop reading. Is that on purpose?” Yes, yes indeed, Ian you’ve hit upon GMHHAY’s secret appeal it’s Bombeckian nothingness. I may have claimed to Ian I was “making a new art form.” I don’t talk about it much, but GMHHAY is deeply satisfying. Really is the culmination of a lifetime of writing, of journaling. From personal journals to LiveJournal for years. Incorporating my disdain for over formalized writing, for business writing in the manner we currently practice it — compartmentalized and self-congratulatory with no humor or self deprecation. When you see a friend, when you shoot the shit at the bar, it is as likely the mundane in their life that is interesting, sympathetic or compelling, but we’re to not put that stuff on the internet anymore. It’s all… broken. I’m very thankful for you guys, it’s really a great relationship. I try to keep a good mix of topics from humdrum and domestic to parenting to work to econ to tech and business and politics. Like a good talk with a friend at breakfast or a bar. But of course it’s nothing without all of you, thank you. It’s funny, too. When I started it was all close friends, now they comprise less than half of the readership, which makes the whole endeavor that much more surreal.
On that note, you’ll also be very excited to learn that I found butterscotch! Thank you to Bianca for reminding me about Economy Candy in the Lower East Side. She reminded me about it because they do mail order, but I happened to be staying right across the street from it. God I forgot how amazing that place is. Really the best. If you need candy, might I recommend Economy Candy on Rivington. I got a pound of butterscotch. It is hitting the spot exactly as I envisioned. It’s so great. I tried to give some to Jane, she enjoyed opening a couple — hasn’t opened that sort of old-fashioned candy before — but I couldn’t get her to try one. Emma tried one and said “it tastes like grandma.” So I guess I don’t have to worry about the family stealing my butterscotch.
After that I took a break at the hotel for a while, then walked 45 minutes to the meat packing district for my work meeting. On the way I called my uncle Jack, it was his birthday, um… I’m thinking maybe 76th? Somewhere in there. My father would have been 80 this year, and Jack’s his little brother. I could look this up. But I’m not going to. He and his wife are well. They have a lot of travel planned, it is pretty amazing. They’re very into that Nomadland RV Southwest culture, seems kind of awesome if I am being honest.
Then I did my work meeting, which went very well and was a quick outdoor half-dinner then a walk-and-talk down Bleecker back to NoLita. I gotta say, Bleecker street is… nice? Like… all the parts of it are nice? The part that used to be sort of dead, west-ish, with Bleecker Bob’s and not much else is now bustling and fun. The dingy part where the Bitter End is is also very nice and bustling now. Outdoor dining is abundant and used and Bleecker is very much improved by all the outdoor seating kiosks. I hope they stay.
Then I met up with one of my best friends who I’ve only seen once in the last two years, Flood. Flood wasn’t drinking and I, on a night off from my kid and a late (for me) check-out time, wanted some drinks. But I was also worried about COVID. So we hit upon the idea of a CO2-monitored pub crawl. I would have a single beer in each bar, we’d keep an eye on the CO2 and bail on any bar where it was bad. There was a lot of variety. Tom and Jerry’s has the door open and that was enough to keep the CO2 below 800. One beer. Then we went to our friend Dan’s bar, Fool’s Gold, and it was packed, no window open, I knew the CO2 would be too high we didn’t even try. Then to Arlene’s Grocery, door open, not too crowded, decent CO2, just over 1,000. Empty enough we could social distance nicely. Then to Iggy’s, where an old friend of mine from College works and I have been visiting it each trip to try and see her but she’s never working on the days I arrive. Bad luck.
I texted her, she told me to say hi to Cady the bartender. I did so, asked her if she was named after Cady Elizabeth Stanton, since I dated a girl named Cady back in the day and she was named after Stanton (bonus points since Iggy’s is just north of Stanton street, which was not named for Cady but for “George Stanton, an associate of landowner James De Lancey,” which is way less exciting. But anyway, Cady just gave me a blank look, and said “it’s for Catherine.” She did not spell Catherine, I am going out on a limb here with the C spelling. Also Cady was very, very high. But man, that is a great bar.
Then to the Magician (poor CO2, didn’t even finish my beer, they need to open a window), the Whiskey Ward (empty, and great CO2, under 600), then to whatever Lolita/RPM Bar is called now (fantastic CO2, wide open window, empty).
Then we decided we were gonna have to go check out this Dimes Square nonsense. If you are unaware of Dimes Square, you are very lucky, but essentially it’s the new Neocon Catholic Crypto Hipster scene that we all deserve. Here is some fun reading material if you wanna go down that rabbit hole (you really don’t). Anyway, it’s kind of funny to me because I used to live right there, at Orchard and Canal, and the bar “at the center of it all,” Clandestino was a semi-regular haunt oh, fifteen years ago? Ish? I also find it kind of interesting cuz the way I see it the last real hipster scene in New York was the sort of Tiswas/Don Hill’s/Misshapes scene and that was over a decade ago. We’ve had a vague, lingering “hipster” scene but nothing concrete, and then there were all the boring sort of work scenes, like the New York tech and media scenes. But in terms of a classic scene, with fashion trends and people into it that don’t work in it, and their own bars and whatnot — like Studio 54 or the Limelight Club Kids. Well, it’s been a while. A scene where a poor boy from Ohio could move to the big city and but on the right clothes and go to the right bar and be glamorous and have a meteoric socialite rise without having “the right job.” Saying all that makes the scene seem okay in some sort of way but I suppose it’s really not. If the CO2 levels were anything by which to judge a scene, it is a dismal failure. Maybe they’re like the Pakleds and they’ll all slowly turn dumb from needlessly self-imposed long COVID brain fog or something (Pakleds. Deep cut.)
Anyway, Clandestino’s CO2 was like 2,000, not okay. We also met up with my friend Nicky who lives down there, and also doesn’t drink, and has been watching this scene grow bemusedly for a few years. He took us to two other Dimes square scene bars. Each had increasingly high CO2. The first was too crowded to boot, so we bailed quickly. The second was empty, at least, and we could social distance and stay by the door. But, god, the CO2 was over 3,000. We were not long for the bar. Which is a shame. It was a great bar. I’d go back.
Called it a night at 1 ish, I stuck to beer, my hangover the next day was bad but honestly not much worse than a single tiny wine at home. I did have the usual profound existential guilt at the airport. A time-honored tradition, unmitigated by the fact that I get profoundly less drunk and do profoundly fewer stupid things on my trips. Still just feel horrible guilt every time I have a nice night out. Seems like something to talk to a therapist about.
One last observation: A lot of NYC bars card now. What’s up with that?
Flew Delta so I got to see the last parts of Laguardia that are still under construction. CO2 levels were decent in the airport - under 800. All the new food establishments are too crowded and by and large the iPad-enabled ordering seems to be over? Which sucks because then you have to, you know, sit near and engage with humans. But luckily my flight was flying out of the last standing old Delta terminal wing, right by the old food court, and that crappy burger place is still there, still taking orders with its iPad, so I could sit away from everyone and order from a robot like nature intended.
As the author of a half-finished book about Laguardia, I am sad I didn’t finish that book before the airport was rebuilt. I suppose I can rework it now — well, not now, but whenever I have time, post retirement or something — into a more hiastorical document or something. I do think the history of LGA is still something most people would find interesting.
And actually (oh god this is getting long now) I finished a book last week called Nineteen Reservoirs: On Their Creation and the Promise of Water for New York City by Lucy Sante and it was.. mildly interesting. Very useful to understand the timeline of the aqueducts, their immense scale both in terms of area and construction effort. And the human cost the displacements took, and the city’s relentless habit of ripping everyone off when they stole their land. But it wasn’t nearly as historically detailed as my LGA book already is, so… I’m feeling better about my historial research. I was feeling self conscious about it before, like it needed more. But I suspect that’s just an inferiority complex and I’m already 90% of the way there. I should really finish that book.
Then home to the greatest airport in America, RDU, where the balloons are still there. I stopped to take their picture, I had missed them. This caused several other people to look up at whatever it was that I was looking at. They smiled. I spread happiness.
We have a hurricane coming. It’s nearly 8 AM and it’s still pitch black from the cloud cover out there. The rain is still very light, supposed to be tonight it really sort of hits. I did a bunch of hurricane prep last night while Emma did Jane bedtime. Packed up all my garden stuff, the outdoor patio area. Staked my apple trees and tied them to poles: I really hope those poor babies survive. Powerwalls are fully charged. We are in that quiet interregenum where there is nothing to do but wait.
I’m back to testing and mask wearing in the house till Sunday night/Monday morning. Not fun, Jane doesn’t like it. I blame those Dime Square Catholics and their dirty, dirty bars.
Substack is telling me this email is getting too big so no more photos and that’s fine I don’t have a new post-trip photo of Jane anyway, since I was sort of keeping my masked distance yesterday aside from dinner and the butterscotch incident. I asked her for a masked hug good night and she was adamant that that was not going to happen.
Today’s playlist is justa mix. I made it before I left. It was going to be yesterday’s mix. It is a little long because it ends with an eleven minute Sonic Boom/A Place to Bury Strangers jam that is shockingly touching and uplifting for such a collaboration, but very, very long. Also more Dusty and more from the So I married an Axe Murder soundtrack and more Jefferson Starship.
Wish us luck on the hurricane, should be fine. Talk Monday!
Crap. Forgot the playlist link. You take one day off, you lose your mojo.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/67bHYJuDqGcsptI8ybOpZC?si=827f9c0517204777
“So we hit upon the idea of a CO2-monitored pub crawl.” What sorcery is this? Substack needs to give me some way to get at all references to CO2 monitoring through the history of GMHHAY.