Stone Street -- appropriately named.BFF M invited me down to the Financial District last week to drink. The prospect of hot Wall Streeters in suits sealed the deal for me. We took the W train all the way to the end and headed to Ulysses first. Pearl St and Stone St are in the oldest part of the city and they're lined with bar after bar. The entire street was filled with picnic tables and umbrellas. But it was raining when we arrived so we started inside. There were certainly plenty of Wall St suits there drinking and yelling and talking about the upcoming NFL season. But there were also a few loners drowning their sorrows in beers (maybe the latest round of Lehman layoffs? or the depressing DOW drops?). We gals took a seat at the bar and made our own party for awhile.
The bar at Ulysses.Because of Labor Day weekend the place was a bit more empty than usual. We didn't mind. We played a little game trying to guess people's names by looking at them. In our minds there were lots of Scotts, Todds and Dougs at the bar that night. Also maybe one Javier. Somehow we never got around to actually talking to anyone outside of our group. We were having too much Ladies Night-style fun.
Once the rain stopped we moved outside. It was a pretty scene -- lines of tables on the cobblestone street. Tall buildings all around. Groups of people having a nice time. Etc etc. Being outside also meant dealing with a lot of smokers and the more I drank the more I wanted a cigarette. I don't even smoke!
The table next to us was being kind of obnoxious. We couldn't help but listen in because THEY WERE SHOUTING LOUD ENOUGH FOR THE WHOLE BLOCK TO HEAR. Sorry. It was two clueless but charming guys hitting on three girls from Russia. The ladies totally had the guys whipped; I think the guys bought every round. Go ladies! To impress them one of the guys got up on the table and started dancing around the umbrella pole, only to knock the umbrella over directly onto our table. Nothing broke besides the guy's ego.
Later on we were getting thoroughly trashed when our previously inattentive waitress rushed over. She grabbed a cigarette of BFF M's bench -- someone had flicked it directly at her. Luckily her clothes weren't burned but yeesh. Ridiculously careless. We decided that was our cue to book.
Being an idiot on the subway.
With a bit of sidetracking we made it back to the Whitehall St station. And that is where the ludicrous stuff started. A W train was waiting for us and most of the cars were empty. It was a cheap thrill. We had a dance party waiting for the doors to close and then proceeded to be idiots while the train was moving. Hanging from the bars, etc. Not one of my proudest moments, but one of the silly fun ones. It of course led to a challenge: could you hang on to the bar for a whole stop? This is easier said then done when drunk. I got pretty lucky because I only had to hold on until Rector St, which is a short ride. Pity friend E who had to hold on until City Hall.
Eventually other people joined us in the car so we toned it down. We made jokes about the long ride back up into the grid, etc. By the time I got home I was a tired but happy drunk. Maybe the Financial District is cooler than I thought.
Once the rain stopped we moved outside. It was a pretty scene -- lines of tables on the cobblestone street. Tall buildings all around. Groups of people having a nice time. Etc etc. Being outside also meant dealing with a lot of smokers and the more I drank the more I wanted a cigarette. I don't even smoke!
The table next to us was being kind of obnoxious. We couldn't help but listen in because THEY WERE SHOUTING LOUD ENOUGH FOR THE WHOLE BLOCK TO HEAR. Sorry. It was two clueless but charming guys hitting on three girls from Russia. The ladies totally had the guys whipped; I think the guys bought every round. Go ladies! To impress them one of the guys got up on the table and started dancing around the umbrella pole, only to knock the umbrella over directly onto our table. Nothing broke besides the guy's ego.
Later on we were getting thoroughly trashed when our previously inattentive waitress rushed over. She grabbed a cigarette of BFF M's bench -- someone had flicked it directly at her. Luckily her clothes weren't burned but yeesh. Ridiculously careless. We decided that was our cue to book.
Being an idiot on the subway.With a bit of sidetracking we made it back to the Whitehall St station. And that is where the ludicrous stuff started. A W train was waiting for us and most of the cars were empty. It was a cheap thrill. We had a dance party waiting for the doors to close and then proceeded to be idiots while the train was moving. Hanging from the bars, etc. Not one of my proudest moments, but one of the silly fun ones. It of course led to a challenge: could you hang on to the bar for a whole stop? This is easier said then done when drunk. I got pretty lucky because I only had to hold on until Rector St, which is a short ride. Pity friend E who had to hold on until City Hall.
Eventually other people joined us in the car so we toned it down. We made jokes about the long ride back up into the grid, etc. By the time I got home I was a tired but happy drunk. Maybe the Financial District is cooler than I thought.
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