Never take a gay choral music major to Marie's Crisis
Will, a friend from Florence who is currently teaching at a private school in Houston, has been taking classes at Princeton over the summer, and decided to take the train into the city to hang with us for a few days.
Since he's flamingly gay and loves Broadway showtunes, I suggested we take him to Marie's Crisis, even tho I'd declared I'd never set foot in the place again after the last time I went over a year ago (long story involving some underage friends' of Daryl's and a bitchy waiter). But, after a show at the Upright Citizen's Brigade, we went to the Village and entered the bar and immediately lost Will to an undulating sea of non-stop showtunes.
It's a fun place. Small, with a low ceiling strung up with Christmas lights, and a piano against one wall that everyone--drink in hand--gathers around, while some guy pounds out tune after tune, and leads the entire bar in song.
Will gave full performances of the entire score of My Fair Lady, a few Cole Porter standards, various songs from Sweeney Todd, and on and on. The drunker he got, the more performance-oriented. The piano player started testing Will's ability, tossing out obscure songs that Will picked up on and belted out, Merman-like. By the end of the evening, I think it's safe to say Will owned the place.
Yadda yadda yadda awakened at three this morning to gunfire.
Or I think it was gunfire. It might've been fireworks of some sort, but there were bright flashes of hot white light outside our window, and jarring bangs, and some police. I'm gonna prefer to think it was kids setting off fireworks, tho, cause I don't like the fact that I could SEE the flashes--that's entirely too close.
Since he's flamingly gay and loves Broadway showtunes, I suggested we take him to Marie's Crisis, even tho I'd declared I'd never set foot in the place again after the last time I went over a year ago (long story involving some underage friends' of Daryl's and a bitchy waiter). But, after a show at the Upright Citizen's Brigade, we went to the Village and entered the bar and immediately lost Will to an undulating sea of non-stop showtunes.
It's a fun place. Small, with a low ceiling strung up with Christmas lights, and a piano against one wall that everyone--drink in hand--gathers around, while some guy pounds out tune after tune, and leads the entire bar in song.
Will gave full performances of the entire score of My Fair Lady, a few Cole Porter standards, various songs from Sweeney Todd, and on and on. The drunker he got, the more performance-oriented. The piano player started testing Will's ability, tossing out obscure songs that Will picked up on and belted out, Merman-like. By the end of the evening, I think it's safe to say Will owned the place.
Yadda yadda yadda awakened at three this morning to gunfire.
Or I think it was gunfire. It might've been fireworks of some sort, but there were bright flashes of hot white light outside our window, and jarring bangs, and some police. I'm gonna prefer to think it was kids setting off fireworks, tho, cause I don't like the fact that I could SEE the flashes--that's entirely too close.