about the scurvy:

on our way to brunch (yes, that of the bottomless mimosas), we ran into part of the brunch crowd, one of whom, it appears, contracted scurvy during college after an extended period of hiding away in his room and eating nothing but ramen noodles. yes, i too was a bit incredulous. scurvy? is this something that happens to people in modern times? i always envisioned scurvy in the category with smallpox, brain fever and consumption. something that happened to characters in literature written prior to the 20th century. actually, i had no intention of holding this strange circumstance against him...until brunch proper.

late in the meal, scurvy boy reached for a bit of bacon on another's plate, asking politely for a "fragment" of this pork product. never having heard the word fragment used in this way, i inquired about the usage. i actually found it delightful, but my inquiry was clearly misinterpreted as a challenge, especially after the piece retrieved was significantly larger than a "fragment". having already discussed my status as a visitor in town, i was confronted with the following retort (paraphrased): "what's your problem with language? are you foreign or it is just that you're from chicago?". the unpleasant implication that i was some sort of rube or yokel made me wish that, when he had revealed earlier in the conversation that he lived in williamsburg, i had stated my "of course you do" in a louder voice, instead of muttering it under my breath. i let the slight slide. i'm polite that way.

about the orange chicken near-miss:

since i left san francisco, the lovely miss RFo has consistently enjoined me to come over. you know, to watch buffy, to read glossy mags in the princess bed, to spin phat tunes, to gossip, et cetera. (i'm getting a real kick out of spelling out et cetera). damn all those pesky miles. but wait. due to her recent relocation to the heart of the village, my weekend adventure placed me in prime striking distance. in her most sponsored-by-sears, aguilera-esque wail, she pleaded once again for me to "come on over, come on over baby". and who could say no to that?. i was excited to see her new place, strangely only a stones' throw from my best friend's digs in soho, who would also be joining us for the evening's festivities. so, ful and i boogied into the city, sashayed into RFo's crib, met her roomie, met up with the best friend and headed out into the night. and what a night it was. it was phenomenal out, warm with a breeze and the streets seemed oddly sparse and peaceful.

without fail, a trip to new york includes a stop into chat 'n' chew, one of my favorites spots to grab some american grub. there was something slyly satisfying in introducing local folks to one of MY haunts in the city. unfortunately, i can never remember exactly where it is. "off union square" is as much as my memory delivers. this time, i was convinced it was on 18th, east of 5th. of course, i got it wrong. after wandering about for a spell, out came the phones to triangulate our destination. so, i got the east of 5th part, at least. i will never forget again. 16th between 5th and union square. let's repeat. 16th between 5th and union square.

dinner WAS. the service delightful, the conversation sparkling, the company lively, the food downright sinful. they got a macaroni and cheese there, i tell ya. i settled on the honey-glazed fried chicken, featuring spuds mashed with the skins and cole slaw. yum yum for the tum tum. there was alot of salad eating going on around me (of course there was) but i didn't allow this subtle mocking of my gastronomical choice to ruin my enjoyment. it was bad for me and i celebrated it. at least, ful was on my side, ordering the roast turkey dinner. but then, for a boy who loves thanksgiving above all else, this was no surprise!

i'm a firm believer in the concept of patronizing multiple establishments throughout the course of an evening. for appetizers, for the meal (ugh, did i actually just use the word "meal"? ew, i did it again!), for dessert, for cocktails. you know the drill. so, off we went into the night in search of sweets and such. wandering up 13th toward our dessert destination, we encountered a sudden hailstorm of black plastic destruction. the asian restaurant we had become paralyzed before was tossing out its garbage from below the surface onto the street above, all without any cognizance or consideration of passersby. i made a mad dash, narrowly escaping a barrage of lo-mein, broccoli beef and egg roll. in that moment, i had a flash of being caught square by flying refuse and hurtled across the street, only to emerge dazed and covered in orange chicken, sauce dripping from my chin. this would have been hot, if it had somehow unleashed a superpower, but the only one i could think of involved the ability to eat and eat and be hungry an hour later. which i already have. oh well.

our intended dessert option was crowded to the point of impossibity so when marched on to a cute little cafe in the village, where there was room to sit and chat and consume coffee and apple pie. yum. much laughing and chatting and joking and communing ensued, with ridicule of scurvy boy as a running theme. i always get mine in the end.

-finn