17 August 2019, Saturday

Third Ave. BN, pt. 2. I eventually went with a few others to see the dance floor in the rear that others in our party had been visiting, and it was kind of fun although we didn’t dance much. Nick S. commented on how there was another bar back there and that they may serve “the good stuff,” to which I responded, Chocolate? The place was so loud that the music was more enjoyable standing outside than inside, and so eventually all of us left the place to loiter outside. Part of us went elsewhither without the remainder of us noticing, so Bri. Sh., Jon. M., N. S., Ty. פּ.‏ and I decided to walk downtown while waiting to receive a text message confirming the first group’s whereabouts. Ty. abruptly stopped to buy an avocado at Westside Market and ate it on the way.

By the time the five of us reached BBG, E. 4th St., the others had left, so we had to wait for another text message, but it was actually nice and intimate to sit with them in a somewhat quieter as well as familiar location.

After the message came in, we crossed the street to Phebe’s, Bowery, where it was again very loud and very crowded. Few of our group were still there but Mike W. was among them. T. apparently went to hang his summertime winter coat and get a drink, so J. went to look for him because we didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but then J. disappeared for an even longer time during which T. reappeared and rejoined the group. For a moment, N. got down on his hands and toes (or knees?) and crawled in a small circle, looking a bit like a big scampering beetle; when I asked why he did it, he said T. hadn’t believed he would. One by one, members of our party left, and so T., J. and I decided to leave too. By that time, I was standing at the corner of the bar positioned next to the sexiest E. Asian man in the whole place, and so I said goodby to him and he reciprocated. I hadn’t noticed how intoxicated T. had become, but at the corner his hiccuping and mild state of confusion made it more evident.

J. and T. decided to walk me from E. 4th St. to W. 4th St. so I could catch my train, but T. was moving extremely slowly and barely made it about a block and a half before they needed to hail a taxi and bid me adieu. (See private Facebook messages with T.) The situation in the station and on the train reminded me how bad the homelessness problem has become in De Blasio’s New York City.

37th Ave. (7172–81). After having carried around my umbrella for hours without using it, we finally had light rain. The friendly attractive cook was at what was once my usual حلال cart, and I was surprised they were open so late. Two diet sodas from शाह/شاه’s Deli (7172–81). There were a group of attractive young men buying alcohol, and wow, the white boy in the pea‐green shirt had a glorious posterior.

A rôtisserie chicken and garden and antipasto salads from FD, 37th Ave. (13:08).