Nothing in this day of urban adventure was particularly tied together thematically or with images, except for the rain. At three separate times of the day, insistent to only use a thin hooded jacket but no umbrella, the torrential rains, heaviest I’d seen in years, drenched me from head to toe. The first episode occurred leaving a meeting on Lex and 52nd for our new non-profit org in the works. Walking from Grand Central, west to the N train, the rains kicked into high gear. It’s a social experiment to see how differently New Yorkers react to rain. A waterproof camera housing would be ideal to document the variety of personalities—the brazen, the meek, the indifferent, the house-bound.
From the rain with wet clothes clinging, the scenario flipped to ultra-humid suffocating air on a subway platform soon to be met with air-conditioning in the subway car, a shivering relief. Whoever came up with the idea that you can catch cold from this kind of thing was plain wrong. And, it’s fun.
I picked out a new pair of specs on University Place. Now it was dusk and still raining. Arriving drenched, I checked into the Feldman Gallery at 31 Mercer Street. The exhibition was by David Opdyke. Great gallery space which worked well for the artist’s large-scale avant-garde creations.
Monte Bernstein, who I know from Fanelli’s, eats dinner every Saturday night at 66 Bayard Street in Chinatown—New Green Bo—at 8 o’clock. But I had no idea that he has a roundtable reserved for any amount of friends who might join him. I arrived before Monte. “Monte table right heah,” the host pointed out. Another guy was waiting as well. Two more guys showed up, then another, and finally Monte with his 40 ounce bottle of Bud he’s most welcome to bring and is quickly met with a bowl of ice.
Monte’s friends looked at me like I somehow drifted over to the wrong table. “Who’s this guy? I need this?” one of the men remarked. The guys began kibbitzing. Sandy thought I might be a cop. I turned the vibe quickly when I got into trading Curb Your Enthusiasm quips with Abbe who was sitting next to me. I was in a virtual scene from Broadway Danny Rose—a table-full of Jewish guys mucking it up to tell their New York stories. I loved it. Dinner ended. The waitress, without hesitation, brought separate checks for everyone.
Got drenched again on my way home to the ferry.
Lisa and Victoria congregate somewhere near 53rd Street and Park during a search for an open bank.
The main space at the Ronald Feldman Gallery on Mercer Street in Soho that hosted Manifest Destination.
Zenith (2008), painted plastic, foam and wood by David Opdyke at the Feldman Gallery.
Left to right: Abbe, guy whose name eludes me, Paul, Sandy, and Monte after dinner at New Green Bo.
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