On Saturday, I stumbled on the real reason I need to leave my part of Queens: it's significantly colder here than any other part of town. After P. Friendster and I motivated ourselves to be proactive and get cultured at the same time by going to the big Brooklyn Museum event, I was standing at the bus stop actually contemplating putting on my parka because of the wind. I was downright freezing standing there and was about to make my way back across the street and into the house before the bus pulled up. But, as the J wound its way across Queens into Brooklyn, I was happy I didn't. It was beautiful out there, breezeless and best of all, fucking warm. Spring had really arrived.
Getting to the museum from my house was a chore and a half that took surprisingly less time than I initially imagined. Taking the J to the C to the S to the 2 was only an hour trip. I can't get to some points in Manhattan as soon as that. Plus the ride was nice, minus the neverending staircase at Franklin Avenue. The last time I took that shuttle, you had to go upstairs to the C booth and get a little ticket to drop in a box once you went outside to make your way up to the S platform. That has to be over seven years easy. We're talking pre-Metrocards. I started off with a brisk jog thinking I wasn't going far, but the steps would not stop. I reached the top of the landing, a little beat. I saw the S in the station and heard the bell, but I knew damn well I didn't have enough wind or energy to run for shit. I half-heartedly strolled towards it before it left and I turn towards the bench to collapse. Strange considering that you'd think since I'm exercising now I'd be in better shape than when I was just sitting on my ass in the house. No such luck.
The new museum entrance is really beautiful. The fountain does a little show and cherry blossom trees are all around the stone benches. I got a little nostalgic for DC, remembering the nice stroll from the AU satellite campus to the main one, passing the grove of cherry blossom trees at the Japanese Embassy. The best about being around there was that I was perfectly comfortable wearing only my blazer as a jacket, even though the day was winding down. I'd forgotten how wonderful a season besides winter could be. The place was packed and it warmed my heart to see everyone coming out. That soon faded when I wondered how everyone got those cute little totes and where I could get one. I met up with P. and we strolled around all the exhibits. The Patrick Kelly one was a trip and he remarked that many of the designs were like a scam on those who should know fashion. I remember my first day as a temp helping to set this up. Some of the shoes were the ugliest, most impractical things I've ever seen. One that looked like it belonged on a genie not a person and this four-heeled monstrosity. All you have to do is look at the obsession people had with Uggs and those rubber Wellingtons to know that people with money to spend will buy just about any ugly thing.
After the museum, we strolled down Flatbush and parted at Atlantic before I ended up walking to Jay Street because I miscalculated the Hoyt stop like a jackass. I hopped on the F to Sapph, something I haven't done on a weekend in months. I soon remembered why. The place was so packed that sweat was practically dripping off the walls, but more importantly, it was wack. The place apparently turned into some strange hipster den that night because of a birthday party and I randomly ran into a friendster of mine that I had brought there a long time ago (on a Thursday). We caught up and he said that he had told his friends as they got there that he had been there before on "a date." I raised an eyebrow at that because I didn't know that's what that had been back in the day. Funny. See, I'm totally inept at reading meeting signals -- or judging what I give out. I assume every outing with a guy is a friend thing, even if I'm attracted to him or it's been expressly noted that it's not just platonic. Live and learn, I suppose.
I jumped ship over to the far west side and strolled about the cobblestones before ducking into 419. The crowd was okay if my interest level has dropped. I miss my bartender friend! For the second time in two nights, I left there and strolled around the corner to a place that's been growing on me. I think there's something about the thrill of knowing that I can get in (not that I've ever had a problem anywhere really) that makes a place interesting (if I like it, that is). Despite generally liking to be casual and chill, I like going to places that are "cool" and actually cool in my jeans and sneaks, Kangol, and hair peeking out unconventionally. Nightlife on my own terms, further illustrating that this article is as full of shit as I thought on first read. But really, I just want something new. Another bar with $5-7 drinks and good music that I can make into a home base. I'm glad that spring is finally here because I was getting restless.
Posted by Candicissima at April 20, 2004 10:47 AM