Yes, my attempt to blog the American trip entirely by New York musical references continues apace. Look out for future classics from Kajagoogoo, the Wu-Tang Clan and Anton Bruckner, possibly.
We walked off the hummus and chimichangas on a stroll alongside the Hudson to the Lincoln Center, a place best known for the quality of its free toilets, says Mrs RM. I enjoyed the view from the grassy knoll.
The 9/11 memorial at Fire Department 40 is striking.
In a mood to “Do New York” we headed east to the Empire State Building, passing several ancient pubs.
No, I wasn’t allowed to nip in to Demsey’s for a Bass, we had a queue to join.
Oddly, the queue for the Empire State Building was about 7 minutes, rather than the 3 hours suggested by the touts aside. Of course, the official ticket for the elevator ride costs the same as City’s last game in Barcelona. The views from the away end at the Nou Camp aren’t dissimilar, to be fair.
Worth every cent. I sang the song at the top.
Anyway, enough tourism for Mrs RM. She needed a beer. I devised a little circular pub crawl for her, ending at Texas Chicken shack.
Bad Seed Cider is your hipster cider place, providing much needed gentrification just off the scruffy Atlantic Avenue.
We should have had the limited range of murk, but it’s a “hard” cider house, so we felt obliged to sit at the bar and have the taster flight.
Yes, you’re right. Sitting at a bar with hipsters drinking a flight of jam jars is Mr & Mrs RM’s idea of pub hell.
They didn’t even have any
scratchings crisps. No food at all.
The barmaid and other customers, who were lovely, said we could pop over the road and bring back some crisps. But we’d already finished the flight. In about 5 minutes.
“GOSH ! You must have been thirsty !!!!” said an astonished barmaid. Not the first or last time an American expressed astonishment at the pace of our drinking.
I showed Mrs RM the Nostrand Pub I’d been to on Day 1.
This time the Ale Wife was on. Possibly from the jug.
With Mrs RM to compare murk for company, it all clicked.
And the music, wow !
B-52s, obscure Numan, New Order’s “Village“, “Happy House“, “Atomic“. “Genius of Love“.
Half an hour of a very American take on 1980s pop.
Half an hour ? Must have been drinking slowly. Or perhaps it was the free pretzels.
Worked for me, even if most of the custom was in that crucial 22-29 demographic. They were all drinking beer too.
With all the silly rules, it could have been a craft bar in Shoreditch,