Friday, 7:15pm
The Crosby Bar
79 Crosby St. (Spring St.), Manhattan
Sara text to Annie: It's unbelievably normal in here.
Inside this hotel bar (which allegedly gets packed with mens who like mens) the lights are right, drinks are right, the food is right, and the music is at an ideal volume (loud enough to feel vibrant; low enough for conversation).
Sara sat at a small table between a banquette and a low chair before noticing an emptying bar stool. She conversed with a server while moving to the bar. An angry boy ran ahead of her, grabbing one of two empty seats. "I'm waiting for someone," he said when she reached for the other seat.
"So am I she said," smiling, unnerved by bad manners.
"Is it someone special?" he asked, attempting to recover and flirt.
"Yes," she said. "My friend."
He was silent. She held her ground.
"You?" she asked.
"I'm waiting for a friend too," he said, back to being angry.
Two more seats opened. Sara moved. The angry boy not only did not offer, but also looked down as if ignoring the possibility somehow excused his continuing bad manners.
"This is social," Sara said, meaning the empty seat between them.
The angry boy laughed, then checked his phone.
The angry boy, by the way, was probably 30, which made him among the youngest in the house. Later, when Annie arrived, two 40's, designers from Mexico City, talked to us about restaurants and coffee shops. They were staying at the Ace Hotel, but heard Crosby Bar had a better scene. We guess that means something about mens, but don't know. Either way, we like the scene here too, and so will you, and the hotel is lovely.
Daily, Just Before Sunset
