September 11th, 2009
I feel like it would be too obvious for me to write the obligatory September 11th anniversary commemorative entry. I was there. Close to the dreaded site and suffered some post traumatic “what the fuck.” I came home to my doorman checking off surviving tenants like a teacher taking class attendance in 9th grade geometry class. Once the towers fell there was very little to do. In the spirit of wanting to make a difference, I headed over to St Vincent’s hospital like thousands of other dazed New Yorkers. Our collective intention was to offer up our blood. There were card board signs indicating blood types, chaplains & rabbis and preparation galore(swivel chairs covered in sheets waiting for the wounded.) Waiting…waiting..but no one showed up because you survived or you didn’t. A haunting site on a beautiful day. I am ethical enough not to investigate a comical twist on this subject. Too soon. Always will be too soon. But I will say that there was a soothing softer side to New York post horror. Some people sought solace in group vigils at Union Square and Washington Square Park, some decided to revisit God after a sabbatical and some took refuge in the safety of the bars.
And now we’re off on a today’s lighter topic…Liquor Pushing Establishments.
I had a brief stint as a bartender 12 years ago. I was brilliant and horrible at the same time. Possessing the gift of gab while “smiley” wiping the bar, I put on one bad ass one woman show worthy of a Tony Award. The downside... I am admittedly poorly versed and skilled in the art of drink mixing. Although I am impressively capable of pouring you a glass of red wine. Big fan of antioxidants. Luckily my (from what I’ve been told) likability factor made my audiences very forgiving. Lucky me. In fact one of the Fleet Week guys invited me to go to Letterman(which was located right next door.) Side note: I will devote another blog to Fleet Week down the line. Just know that Sex and the City made quite a bold choice when depicting the week of the fleet as glamorous.
You don’t meet a lot of Jewish alcoholics. We’ve been drinking wine since our first Seder. Elijah didn’t show up so we needed the pain to go away. I did try to become a drinking addict and was absolutely adorable while trying. It didn’t take. I’ve dated many men of Irish decent and EVERY one of them has the same dream of opening their own bar. Consistent. I’ve had many conversations with these guys about what attributes they need to seek when hiring their alcohol mixologist for their not yet existent establishment. The best pusher of the legal liquid drug will have the best qualities of a therapist, a cleaning lady, entertainer and a concierge(calling a cab for the shameless lush.) The super in tune ones even possess psychic abilities. They know when a couple is doomed before the couple accepts that they're heading down the road to inevitable destruction.
Perhaps I should revisit my days as a barmaid. This time round I would read Bartending for Dummies”(the cliff notes) to up my game. Of course I want to be working at MY dream bar which will obviously be called Bar Mitzvah. I’ll have an endless supply of top shelf Manishevitz, patrons will pay in savings bonds and I’ll have a sign behind that bar that says," Hava Nagila Have a Tequila!”
If this Bar Mitzvah fails, I’ll open my backup bar where everyone is required to wear an eye patch.