Hardly
So, it’s my last night in New York City; this band I like pretty well, Sloan, is playing at a cool club in the Bowery; I’ve had a nice dinner with my hosts, Bob and Jay, and I’ve got a bit of a buzz on from a shared bottle of wine and a cocktail or two before our meal.
You’d think I’d be all set to head out and shred it up till the wee hours, dragging myself back to the apartment as dawn breaks over the Manhattan skyline.
Nope.
I was on the couch by 10:30 and slept all the way through the night except for at about 4:30 when the folks who opted for the alternative evening staggered from the bars to the tune of much shouting and smashing of empty bottles.
Sigh.
I’m an old guy, I guess: the attraction of standing in a sweaty bar being bombarded by loud music paled in comparison to the appeal of lying prone on a soft surface and letting sleep overtake my tired body.
I’m not sure how I feel about this.
On the one hand, I’m appalled I’m such a lightweight. Time was when to not squeeze out every ounce of experience from the Big Apple was a shortcoming akin to not finishing a free beer. My younger self would have scoffed mightily at the homebody I’ve become.
On the other hand, I commend myself for such good sense. I mean, I’ve seen dozens upon dozens of concerts in my life; I doubt whether last night would have been anything other than a difference in degree, not kind. And today, I’m relatively bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to conquer my adventure of getting from New York to Washington, DC by “luxury” bus.
The good news is, I still have two days left on my little Eastern excursion; rehearsal dinner tonight and wedding tomorrow. At least one of those should be good for some pre-dawn bottle busting.
You’d think I’d be all set to head out and shred it up till the wee hours, dragging myself back to the apartment as dawn breaks over the Manhattan skyline.
Nope.
I was on the couch by 10:30 and slept all the way through the night except for at about 4:30 when the folks who opted for the alternative evening staggered from the bars to the tune of much shouting and smashing of empty bottles.
Sigh.
I’m an old guy, I guess: the attraction of standing in a sweaty bar being bombarded by loud music paled in comparison to the appeal of lying prone on a soft surface and letting sleep overtake my tired body.
I’m not sure how I feel about this.
On the one hand, I’m appalled I’m such a lightweight. Time was when to not squeeze out every ounce of experience from the Big Apple was a shortcoming akin to not finishing a free beer. My younger self would have scoffed mightily at the homebody I’ve become.
On the other hand, I commend myself for such good sense. I mean, I’ve seen dozens upon dozens of concerts in my life; I doubt whether last night would have been anything other than a difference in degree, not kind. And today, I’m relatively bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to conquer my adventure of getting from New York to Washington, DC by “luxury” bus.
The good news is, I still have two days left on my little Eastern excursion; rehearsal dinner tonight and wedding tomorrow. At least one of those should be good for some pre-dawn bottle busting.
posted by Professor Dave at 7:10 AM
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