August 5th, 2010 will go down as “The Night Andrew Got Propositioned by an 85-year-old woman”
Let me tell you how this all went down.
After having dinner with my aunt and uncle I decided that the night was still young. I was not in the mood for the frat boy Upper East Side bar scene. Where shall I go? My new spot……..Elaine’s.
I grab the 6 train from Grand Central and off I went to 88th St.
As soon as you walk into Elaine’s you can tell that there are people there who just want to run into celebrities. When the door opens people’s heads turn. I get a kick out of that. I’m not there for celebrities, rather, I just like the bar. It is older and classy. The bartender takes his time. The owner sits in the bar with her son.
(There were, in fact, a lot of recognizable celebrities there)
I’m sitting at the bar, breathing in the atmosphere when an older woman sits down next to me. She starts chatting with me and has a playbill in her hand. Turns out she is a theatre critic. Being very personable she starts telling me stories about “the old times” at Elaine’s……..when they used to have the piano. She told me about how Elaine makes sure that her “well known” patrons are not bothered when they are in the bar by seating them in a specific place. It is a spot where everyone can see them, but you would have to go out of your way to speak to them.
As she is talking about the good old days, she begins talking about different men that she picked up from the bar over the years. Very, very famous men. I’m getting a kick out of her stories and I’m sure she is loving telling them.
Quickly she gets….oh………..the word for it might be feisty. Or at least, as feisty as an 85-year-old (just a guess on the age, but it can not be far off. Hell, she mentioned living during the depression) can get.
And here it is. Here is the line that I woke up this morning and said, “Did that happen?”
“You know, I have a place just a couple blocks away and a house out on Fire Island. I’m not going to live much longer. Maybe you should give me a try.”
Yep, that happened.
I politely declined, as the whole thing went from fun story telling time to Tales from The Crypt. It is too bad, as I was genuinely enjoying what this woman had to say.
The clock hits midnight and she had to go home. Before she gets up she looks over at me and says, “I need you to do something very discretely for me”
“My cane fell, can you pick it up?”
I picked up the old, beat up cane and handed it to her. She winked at me and left.