Like, “Wow, was that a time warp?” level of gay. What a perfect locale for midwestern Newlyweds to cut their teeth on being in the world, but not of it. Rebbeca is moving a bit faster than I’m ready though. We stepped out of the Christopher Street PATH station and the first thing she said was, “Can we move here?” Seriously.
We discussed (read: I argued to her) the how’s and why’s of not being able to move there while we wandered down to the corner of 4th Street and something like 12th-ish. (Right about where Hudson turns into 4th and all the cab drivers will tell you that this street doesn’t exist here…there’s also a hidden *cliff dive* bar that’s pretty cheap.) Here we stopped for breakfast and drinks.
I like little bistros that are open to the sidewalk. Love them actually. This is what I’m finding to be my East Coast equivalent to Sir Benedicts (shoutout to Duluth!). Here, you can actually drink and think (or even talk) without stilettod bimbos or posturing meatheads forcing my mind to revolve within the gravity of their world.
We wandered for a while after loosening our minds with mamosa’s and iced Bailey’s (and quieting our bellies with an omelet filled with all kinds of plant life and whatever it is Rebbeca photographed…), and continued our conversation.
Like I aforementioned, the West Village area is awesomely gay. Not totally gay like THE Village, but gay enough to have clean quiet streets and friendly, but unobtrusive locals. I’ve decided that I love gay people…well, men anyway, the truly raving lesbians are still kind of awkward, but that’s more of a social issue than some sort of illegitimate bias. I generally find they tend to be types of people I wouldn’t like anyway, straight or otherwise, so there’s some comfort there.
Gay men are helpful, savvy, and generally good natured. You can usually expect solid advice from them on a topic and they’ll tell you if they don’t know much about whatever you ask them. Assuming you’re the type to consider homosexuality a flaw, what would you prefer to be the serious downfall in a friend? I don’t want to associate with cleptos, liars, whores, or whiners so someone who’s wonderful, but is gay, is pretty flippin sweet in my book.
Like this man who cut Rebbeca’s hair. His little shop is on the lower level on a corner near a giant cathedral in SoHo. Rebbeca wants him to be her new best friend and do her hair at least once a month if not every week.
See how happy she is?!
We explored quite a bit just for a relaxing time away from Newarkness. One of the things I saw that was pretty interesting was handball. There were actually people who got together at a public place with the intent of playing handball. It’s something I’ve done for a lack of options, but not here in the capital of the world that is NYC. People came together to play. Lots of people. They’re behind the ones hooping it up in this picture.
All that walking around makes you thirsty though. So we found our way back to a place Rebbeca wanted to go. We ate chips and had drinks at a little outdoor mexican place that gave us a time limit and sat us in like a Tetris stack. I didn’t appreciate it very much, but she liked it. I wanted to go across the street to the place for explorers and mad scientists…since that’s pretty much what Rebbeca and I fit to a “T”.
…where’s that come from and what’s it actually mean, “to a T”?