Tag Archives: GFI

The Really Long One Where I Say Creepy More Times Than I Can Count

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Last Friday night, I grabbed a bottle of vodka from my freezer, a jar of blue cheese olives, threw on my coat and climbed upstairs to GFI’s place for some ‘tinis on the terrace.  Before I could even made it to her door, Slick poked his head out his screen door and said, “OOo!  Are we having martinis?  I’ve got my own vodka!” and he ran over like an eager kid with his own bottle of Kettle One.  So, there we were, neighbors hangin’ out, having vodka. 

About half a martini later (I know, I don’t know what was up with that), I left to go to Target but when I came back, there was some guy up on the terrace with GFI and Slick. It was dark and I couldn’t see who he was, but GFI shouted down to me, “This is Chester!  You’ve got to come up and meet Chester!” I wasn’t really in the mood, it was cold, but she sounded like she really wanted me up there and I didn’t like her being up there in the dark with two guys, one a total stranger.

So I got up and there’s Chester.  He’s an older guy, like in his 60’s with white thinning hair, a golf shirt, jeans and white tennis shoes.  He looks slightly grizzled, like he’s spent time in a whiskey bottle and smelled a bit like it, too.  He was swigging a beer and moments after introducing ourselves, he tells me he’s had half a bottle of tequila before he came upstairs to meet the neighbors.  Charming.

Anyway, this guy is kind of creepy.  He’s lived in our building for 3 years on the opposite side and is a chauffeur. He’s got a town car and a Corvette he parks in the back. We’d never met him or even seen him before Friday night.  Something about the way he looked at me made me really uncomfortable, same with GFI.  He has this wide thin smile (slightly open-mouthed but doesn’t show teeth) and kinda beady eyes that make him look like Robin Williams and Jonathan Winter had a lovechild.  He was nice, so I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I’m usually a pretty good judge of character.  I usually know how to call it and this guy… he just didn’t sit well with me.  But again, I didn’t want to make snap judgments about a half-drunk stranger in the dark.

(Why do I feel like I’ve said that before?)

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The One Where I Say Pants More Than Usual

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Last night, GFI, Modigli and I went for drinks our fave neighborhood cocktail bar — I won’t name it lest some employee does a Google search and I end up with spit in my martini.

To say I love this place is putting it mildly. It’s just my speed… inside it’s very “70’s cocktail bar meets modern lounge” complete with natural and wood wall coverings, amber glass here and there and some really cool giant 70’s-looking light fixtures.  Their food is delicious. I’d only ever tried their garlic aoli pomme frites (fancy name for French fries), but last night we had the cheese platter with Stillson, brie, fresh honeycomb and some funky little raisins. Good stuff.

Anyway, the bartender has this pair of pants that he wears every time we go.  I can’t tell if it’s a uniform, if it’s just coincidence or if he really, really loves those pants.  No one else seems to be wearing a uniform, other than maybe the hostess, who is usually in all black.  He’s got a hipster thing going for him…he’s got a definite style. And while I’m not really all that partial to men in skinny pants, these are pretty cool pants.  Black and white hounds tooth, I think?  Or perhaps they were just checked — the print was small and it was dim lighting.  I just find it funny that he’s sporting them every time we go in there and if it were a uniform, wouldn’t someone else have the same pants on?  I have another hipster-y friend who also wears a specific pair of pants very frequently.  I’m beginning to think hipsters only have one pair of pants.

But, Repeat Pants or not, I like our bartender. He is sometimes a bit slow and GFI isn’t wild about his martinis, but I have faith!  Out of the roughly 8 martinis I’ve had from him since we’ve been going there, about five have been alright, two have been awesome and one was like drinking Sea Monkeys.  He got a little crazy with the “dirty” part of a dirty martini.

I think GFI is throwing in the towel and switching to Cosmos, but like I said, I have faith.  He seems like a nice guy and he’s starting to remember us, so someday, I fully anticipate he’ll know exactly what and how I’ll order when I come in the door.  It would also be nice to be greeted with “NORM!” but I won’t push it.

Moral of the story: Make friends with your bartender. Even if he’s only got one pair of pants.