It was 6:30pm on Friday night, and I was hanging at my apartment in Astoria. It had been a rough week. I’d adopted a cat, Copper, who seemed really cool, but who so far had hid under my bed and never came out. I felt bad.
On top of that, my writing career was in the trash heap. I’d been churning out content that I really believed in, and my blog, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram all looked good, but I just wasn’t generating the traffic I’d hoped for.
So I decided to head out and check out the ‘hood for a bit. I grew up on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, but I’d been in Astoria for over nine years. I can’t say I liked the neighborhood, but I didn’t hate it either. I mean when you grow up on the UWS, it’s hard to move to Queens and feel good about it. But that was life.
I exited my building and made my way along 34th street heading south, first to 31st Avenue, and then to Broadway. At Broadway I took a right and headed west. A block later I stopped at Sekend Sun, a local lounge between 33rd and 32nd Streets.
When I entered the bar it was medium-crowded, but there was one empty seat in the middle, which I began to eye.
“Come on over bud, this seat’s empty,” the very gay, George Michael-esque bartender said to me.
So I did.
I sat down and was presented with a drink menu by an equally gay, butch female Asian bartender. She brought me some water and told me to take my time. Cool.
I scanned the menu, although truth be told I’d been to Sekend Sun probably 10 times and I knew the menu well enough. I’ve been a whiskey drinker for a very long time, but for some reason I was in the mood to break out tonight. So I ordered a vodka tonic, sat back, and enjoyed the scenery.
The lounge was filled mostly with 20-somethings from the neighborhood, who were just off work and looking for a slightly more elevated experience than your local Queens joint. There were a few hot women, some hipster dudes, and a couple of frat boys. All in all, your typical Friday night in Northwest Queens.
It was dark inside the lounge, which I found to be quite appealing. The bartender brought me my vodka tonic, which I drank rather quickly. It was a nice drink, nothing special, but after all the whiskey I’d been drinking, it was a welcome change.
A probably-gay-but-possibly-straight young Mexican bartender came by to ask me what I wanted for my second drink. I had been thinking about this, and had decided on a Manhattan, which I told him. “Do you want rye or bourbon?” he asked. I did a split second calculation. “Bourbon” I replied.
I sat back and watched this young dude prepare my drink. I had had Manhattan’s before, and I remembered that it was basically a whiskey with vermouth, bitters, and orange peel. Even so, this guy really worked it. He measured out the whiskey into a shaker, poured it into a large mixing glass, then measure out the vermouth, poured it in, added the bitters, and ice, and shook the whole thing in two conjoined glasses for a good 10 seconds. “Shake shake shake shake shake!” is what it sounded like. He finished by pouring the drink into a Manhattan glass and topped it off with a Maraschino cherry.
I tried it immediately. Damn. This thing was pretty freaking incredible. It had the taste of sweet, from the vermouth, and crisp, from the bitters. The bourbon was smooth. And the cherry was tart. But most of all it was smooth, and luxurious. It tasted as if time and effort had gone into preparing it, and, well, they had.
I was now thoroughly buzzed as I contemplated my third drink. At that moment a new bartender entered the scene. She was young, about 23 I would guess, pettite, brunette, and extremely attractive. I mean, like, she was hot. I’m 43, so she was a little young for me. But 20, 40, or 80, this was just a beautiful woman, pure and simple.
She came over and asked me what I’d like. “I’ll have an ‘And How’,” I replied. I had scouted this drink on the menu. It was a combination of gin, Aperol, cucumber, lime, and Absinthe.
“You got it,” she replied.
She then conferred with the female Asian lesbian bartender, who began mixing up the drink. I alternated between watching the bartender mix my drink and staring at the 23-year old beauty as she worked the bar.
At one point, Ms. 23 year old appeared right in front of me, reached down beneath the bar for something, and began mixing a drink. I had an unimpeded view of her incredible rack, and I was instantly aroused. She leaned back for a moment, then leaned in again and I had a second view.
Summer camp. That’s what her breasts reminded me of. Being 13 years old, young and fresh, and having the whole world in front of you. They were warm, soft, and comforting. Like a baby’s bottom.
The bartender brought my drink, which I tried right away. Mmm! It was good. It was sweet, salty, sour, and bitter, all in one. It was pretty great, with a cucumber floating on the top and an orange liquid in the glass.
For my last drink I ordered a Lager, which I wolfed down quickly. It was almost 9pm, and I was ready to head home.
I exited the bar and made my way along Broadway to 34th Street, then headed north toward my apartment.
Ten minutes later I was home. I was buzzed, slightly aroused, and hungry. I had some ground beef in the fridge that I was planning to make into burgers on the grill pan, so I looked forward to that.
All in all, it was a good night out. Interesting, stimulating, and energizing. If you can have all three of those in the same night, you’re doing OK.
