I know this is all getting posted late and such, but I’m doing the best I can.
My return to NYC had me sitting on the train, facing south. What was weird about the west side of the tracks was how lively the scenery was; buildings that were active, logos freshly painted on them, the sense of despair on the east side quickly drained for a more vibrant scene. There was literally a wrong side of the tracks!
Off to the banksy exhibit I went, to see animatronic creatures in disturbing poses, and then it was to the Four Faced Liar for drinks. I was in need of them, and they served…Yuengling. Now, I realize that’s no big deal to any of my East Coast readers…oh wait.
But I can’t get that beer on the West Coast, and so I’m dying to try it. And It’s…well, it’s a beer. A solid American style lager, with the kinds of flavors I’d expect (not much of any) except for a slight funk at the back end. It wasn’t bad–a bit skunky, but it was only noticeable due to the absence of flavors preceding it. My notes suggest to drink during summertime.
Next up, I went for the Sixpoint IPA. It was bitter, but not overly so, but it was a bit lacking on the nose. That’s where I would’ve expected to pick up a lot of the essences of an IPA, and there just wasn’t much there. At this point, however, I’m meeting lots of new people, and I’m getting distracted. In the interest of being sociable, I put down my pen and enjoy the company I’m with.
There was another bar after this, but I couldn’t tell you the name of it. I had switched to Jameson’s and was slowly working towards the Killing Joke show.
The Filmore is a good place to see a show; it reminded me of the best parts of Portland’s Roseland theater, with an upper balcony, two bars, a couple booths and a few places to sit as well as stand, there was plenty of space to see the bands. I’d arrived in time to see Ascension of the Watchers (who I thought was OK), which meant I had time to get a beer.
My choices: Bud, Bud Light, something, something = $6, Coronoa, Newcastle, something, something = $7, and then…mixed drinks which were too damned expensive.
OK, first; why the fuck would I ever order a seven dollar Corona when there’s Bud? I am not such a fool that I think paying an extra dollar for a lemon wedge improves my drinking experience.
Second…well, I guess there is no second. This isn’t Portland, and I’m going to get what I’m going to get.
But Killing Joke came on soon after, and they were terrific. That tends to make those little inconveniences worthwhile. I caught the subway back home, and snagged a bag of Doritos and a Sierra Nevada because I was hungry. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a bottle opener, and flying means I have to leave my trusty Swiss Army Knife behind. Sigh.
On my last day in New York, I mosied around. The pubs that we’d hope were open (like the Barcade-an oldschool arcade and bar) weren’t, so there was no new beers to try. Soon it was time to get on the plane home, and after a brief disorientation on the subway, I found myself at JFK airport. I had enough time to grab a Sam Adams pale ale, which was surprisingly good, before getting on a plane home.