“Done already?” he says through yellow teeth.

I had explained my early work situation enough times that night to change my mind. What’s one more beer? Pete seems entertaining enough. I mean, with silver mutton chops and a red vest who wouldn’t be? I order a cheap macro.

In between ten other customers and conversations Pete manages to tell me a story. “So you know, some guy come in here four months ago and I says, ‘Hey! I know you!’ And he says ‘Yeah, I’m part of that band…’ Aw, what’s it called? You know it…”

Still waiting for clues, I say, “I don’t think I do.”

“Yeah, you do!” Pete makes two fists with his hands and starts pumping them back and forth from his body. He says with no tune, “I like to move it. I like to move it.”

I pull the name from the deep recesses. “Reel 2 Real?” That was one of the first songs I downloaded off of an FTP site back in 1996, thus beginning a long career of never paying for music.

“Yeah! That’s it! He come in here four months ago. Real nice guy. Buys everyone drinks.”

“One more beer,” I think, “and this will start making more sense.”

A couple beers later, a tall black man in his mid-forties appears beside me and orders four pitchers of Bud. He’s flanked by two young, attractive women who are showing more skin than not.

From the other end of the bar Pete lights up and points frantically at the man standing next to me. He yells “That’s him! That’s that’s the guy! I like to move it!”

I look up and behold a bald, aging man in a tan suit. Play it cool. “Reel 2 Real?” I ask, as if I knew all along.

“Yeeeah…” His voice was an octave lower than mine and twice as slow. “Hey, Pete. Buy this guy a beer.” He points to me. “And this guy,” he points to someone else.

“Uh, thanks man,” I say as he collects his pitchers and leaves. I call out after him, “Oh, and I dig your work!” I refrain from mentioning his role in my early piracy.

Pete comes up with the beer. “A nice guy. A nice guy,” he says.

(Scene: Friday, 2 a.m. underground at a Brooklyn subway station. The hallway is sparsely populated by a few lone late-night revelers.)

(Enter a large, lumbering, black woman from stage right)

LLBW: (addresses Stranger 1 loudly in Carribean accent): Have you SEEN the light of Jesus Christ?!

Stranger 1: Uh, no. (Exits stage right)

LLBW: (to Stranger 2): Have YOU seen the LIGHT of Jesus Christ?!

Stranger 2: Sure… (Quickly exits stage right)

(Your Hero enters from stage left)

LLBW: (To Your Hero) HAVE you SEEN the LIGHT OF CHRIST?!

YH: Nope.

LLBW: (Enraged, screaming) I WIPE MY FILTHY HANDS ON YOU! (Wipes imaginary muck on Your Hero’s sleeve)

YH: ( Looks around to see if anyone else witnessed this. To himself) What the f…?

LLBW: (Exits stage left; To unseen stranger) Have you SEEN the light of Christ?!

Fin

——

Seriously, you can’t make up this kind of action. New York is the strangest place on earth.

phatbartimaeus@clin02.cassiopea.it
to me

subject: Watch her come over and over

Why lie? I need money.

I admire his honesty, so I sent him $1,000 by wire transfer.

Now if only Michael Phelps had the cojones to stand up and say “I smoke. So what?” As annoying as Bill Maher is, he spoke the truth last night on Larry King. Take a look.

Glühwein (pronouced Gloo-vine) is essentially mulled wine, consisting of spices, sugar and red wine. It’s a great party drink. Here’s my favorite recipe:

Ingredients:*
3/4 cup white sugar
3/4 cup water
1 cinnamon stick
5-6 whole cloves
1 lemon
1 (3/4 liter) bottle of red wine

Instructions:
Put the water in a saucepan. Add the cloves, cinnamon stick, and sugar. Bring to boil over high heat. Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes.

Cut the lemon in half and squeeze its juice into the simmering mixture. Zest the lemon and add as well.

After 30 minutes, strain out the solid bits and add the wine. Heat very slowly over low heat. Do not boil as the alcohol will burn off. When just below boiling, serve in a mug or, if you have it, a Glühwein cup.

Some of the hardcore Germans add brandy or schnapps to their Glühwein. Do this with caution.

*Double these for twice the Glühwein