fantasy evening #1
it’s a weekday, but a good weekday; like a thursday, or at least a wednesday, definitely not a tuesday. i get out of work on the later side, but not so late that it’s “get in bed and eat frozen ravioli and watch svu” time. the sun is down, but there’s a spark in the air; it’s not full-on, assemble-all-the-friends-and-drink-outside summer, but it’s warm enough that i want to do something besides going right home.
i take the c train to clinton/washington at the not-too-packed hour of 7:30 p.m. and make the trek up, up, up, past the church and the thai place and the body shop and the plant nursery and the pet store and the other pet store, walking until i’m almost home, but not quite. eventually, i veer left and open the door to memes’s diner. it’s a weeknight, so i don’t have to wait in the vestibule to be seated the way i would for brunch (which isn’t so bad, i’ve made friends in that vestibule.)
the host and servers are immediately warm to me, partly because i’m there a lot, but mostly because it’s just that kind of place. the restaurant isn’t packed, but it’s pretty full; there’s at least one queer couple there on a date, and i try to smile at them in a way that communicates “i am also that” more so than “i am a serial killer.”
i take a seat at the bar, order whatever incarnation of margarita they’re serving, chat about my day a little bit with whoever’s working, pick something hearty and potato-related off the menu and settle in to read my book. an hour or so later, i leave, sated and slightly drunk, sauntering the block and a half to my apartment feeling unquestionably like i am that most desirable of new york identities: a regular.
donate to the meme’s staff relief fund here: https://www.memesdiner.com/checkout/donate?donatePageId=5e75088eda6ac14b0f872b49