Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Firecracker, nope wait it was a dud

Okay, friends have been begging me to write about the Lindsay/Lindsey date, so here goes (I sure hope he doesn't google this). Last Friday, I had a marathon date with the Lindsey boy. It started in the early afternoon. We took the subway over to Brooklyn, and walked back into the city across the Brooklyn Bridge. Then we got ice cream from a street vender and walked around in the Tribecca, SoHo, and West Village areas before stopping at a dark hole-in-the-wall bar which proclaimed to have the best burger in town. Note, it was a really good burger (huge like the size of a dinner plate). Afterwards, we felt like catching either a broadway show or movie. We headed to the half-price ticket booth in Times Square to score some cheap tickets. Okay, the half-price ticket thing is a scam, they only sell the expensive tickets and they are still $140 each with the discount. Anyway, we decided that it would not be economical for a first date to drop $300. I wanted to use the restroom, so thankfully my place was only a block away. While there, we decided to pick a selection from my collection (small and strange with choices like Fried Green Tomatoes, Center Stage, and The Replacements......loooove that movie). When the movie ended, it was close to 10pm. He suggested dinner and I thought, "my goodness how freaking long will this date last!" A friend (either Phil or Eddie) of my Chicago friend Josh G. suggested a gem of a place (bar/club) that was one block away from my apartment.....Zanzabar. Anyway, the moment Lindsey and I walked in, I knew it was going to be awkward. Everyone was Indian. It was like a record scratch how everyone in the place turned to look at the only two white people in the place. At least the food was good and fast, so I was able to usher out him in order to catch one of the last trains back to Princeton. Okay, on paper, he is perfect: good looking, tall, athletic, great personality (made me laugh a lot), considerate, getting his PhD at Princeton, etc. BUT you ask why I did not like him? I don't know, but my Mother is sadly disappointed (she already concluded he would be a great son-in-law). Ugh, the worst is how do you tell a great nice guy that sorry, I'm not into you. I enlisted the help of the KSU watch party crew on Saturday. The guys all suggested that I stopped returning his calls (note this is a bad idea/jerky thing to do and no wonder why these friends are still single). Anyway, the KSU crew did have some fun on Saturday. K-State lost to Lousiville (no surprise since they were rated 9 at the time), so we all went to the biggest dive of a bar on the Upper West Side. It was such a dive that the sign just said "BAR". Here is a picture of the chaulkboard on the outside of the bar, very funny. Okay, to describe the bar as dark, small, and full of old men would not do it justice. It was the first place in NYC that I have heard a constant stream of old and semi-old (junior high-high school days) country music. Now I don't listen to country, but after a few beers I was surprised to find that I remembered the words to some songs from my youth (way down yonder on the Chattahoochie....it gets hotter than a hoochie coochie). We (I mean I since a couple of boys were putting the final moves on some Clemson girls they met) finished the night off with giant pizza slice. Mmmmmmn.


At 8:11 PM, Blogger Lindsey said...

And you didn't even make me pancakes!


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