Yep, Monday again.
And you know what that means: unforeseen inebriation at the hands of a seemingly casual post-work meal with coworkers.
There I sat at the computer last Monday, still in the office that had long been cleared out by my other cohorts and by this time, with the To Do list for the rest of the week swirling in my head, my shoulders had crept up to my earlobes and no amount of deep breathing seemed to bring them down.
I won’t admit to being overwhelmed, exactly, let’s just say that I was extremely focused.
Until, that is, a little IM popped up from a coworker (who had decamped much earlier to host her remaining conference calls from the couch), with a note beckoning me to pop out for a drink.
But I have X, and Y, and Z… I was totally supposed to get to Z tonight, at some point.
[Note that I knew to saying yes to meeting up was the same as saying no to accomplishing anything else post cocktails. At least, at this age, I know it's HIGHLY unlikely that I'll get anything accomplished if I’m heading out for one (alleged) drink.]
Obviously I decided in favor of joining my friend for a drink and dinner. I mean, this is a blog about going out in NYC. The subject of this post is certainly not how I attempted to live up to an ambitious To-Do list.
I was in Times Square, she was close to Grand Central. Where to go?
I had a burning desire for a fat slice of pizza but my dining companion had more urbane tastes that night, so we settled on Serafina.
Serafina is equivalent to nothing fancy but on this night I needed neither upscale nor revolutionary; I needed to get out of the office.
Oh, By The Way: DO NOT go to Serafina in the Time Hotel on 49th, west of Broadway. Just don’t do it. We did a drive by and chose to walk the additional five blocks in the freezing wind because even from sidewalk we could see that it was a repository for bad upholstery, tattered carpet and tourists.
The Serafina at the bottom of the Dream Hotel is the only outpost of the restaurant chain that this Girl Around Town recommends.
The Warholian murals of female faces in black in white dotted or covered in glittering bits and red chandeliers reassured me that I was in a decent enough spot to settle in for the night. I mean, give me an Art Deco-meets-brothel interior palate and I’m a happy camper. Food was ordered, white wines were ordered.
More white wine.
Finally some beer…you know, as a surrogate dessert.
Let’s Be Honest: It’s a long week and in glasses of wine, as in days of the week, sometimes you should just stop counting. In both cases, it’s just more enjoyable that way.
210 West 55th St. @ Broadway
Accessorize: Walking between the office, to Serafina the Lesser and Serafina the Greater in painful spring (freezing!) wind, called my attention to the perfect early spring accessory.
A cream felt fedora, available at Hat Country. This one the Gangster model.