Atlantic Antic

Saturday night I visited a friend that I knew from New Hampshire. It was his birthday, and he had a party at his place near Union Square. There were mutual friends in attendance, including my good buddy Jake whom I've known since grade school. On the way to the party, I searched for a corner store to buy a 40, but every store I hit didn't have any. I found a bodega that had what I needed, but it cost about double what I pay in Brooklyn. The party was standard, but the apartment had a balcony that overlooked the city from 15 floors up, and that was sweet. Things get hazy from this point on. I was well on my way from drunk to disorderly, when the crew decided to move to a karaoke bar. I love karaoke. But I stayed cool and concealed my giddiness. The karaoke bar reminded me of that scene in Lost In Translation. We had a private room, it was lined with booth seating and a conference table, with TV's on the walls. We sang and passed pitchers around. I got an entire glass spilt on me. It was at this point that my downward spiral began, as I went downstairs to the main bar to see the action there. I ordered a drink and talked to someone at the bar. I was inebriated in a very serious way, and I decided to leave without saying anything. I later heard that people were texting Jake to see where I went. Maybe they were concerned that I passed out in a gutter somewhere. The next hour or two was spent looking for the 6 train, which would have been really simple if I wasn't completely befuddled. I was like a young deer that had emerged from the womb moments ago, clambering down the street like I'm using my brain and legs for the first time. Two cheeseburgers and an unknown amount of time later, I reached the 6 and made my way to Flatbush. The Q was under maintenance, and I had to take the shuttle to Parkside Ave. The shuttle stopped at nearly every block and confused the hell out of me, so I decided to get off. I had no clue where I was, but eventually found Ocean Ave, and from there I found Bedford Ave. Fast forward to a half hour later, I realized I had been traveling the wrong way on Bedford and turned around, but I made it home.

Sunday was the Atlantic Antic street fair hosted by Brooklyn Brewery. A sizable portion of Atlantic Ave (4th Ave to Hicks St.) was blocked off and became foot traffic only.



It was close to what I expected: food, drink, things to buy. First, I went for an empanada and BK lager totalling 5 bucks, which is cool. We walked around for a few hours, there was tons of food that I badly wanted to munch on, but I gotta save that paper. Lots of soul food, chinese, barbecue, desserts, grilled meats and skewers, seafood, Mozzarepas, grilled corn, pizza, and lots of beer stands. There were bands playing at different spots as we moved down the street, and the variety was impressive. A small swing band played a set, and some couples danced. It made me want to be apart of that scene. Some other rock bands played, a few more combos. One group was fairly impressive but I couldn't guess a genre, it included a rhythm section and was fronted by a steal drum player and vocalist. We purchased a sixer of beer at a shop and strolled with styrofoam cups in hand, just to keep it classy. Many vendors sold t-shirts and other clothing, which was worth a look but I couldn't afford to buy anything. We spoke to a woman trying to sell her own collection of books. She was interesting, and I gave her son a few skateboarding tips. A few hours later, the fair was closing down and the authorities were attempting to restore order. We got some eats and beers at the Trader Joes, where we purchased the brand's Name Tag beer. Why they would call a beer Name Tag, I don't know.

Tonight I'm off to the Knitting Factory for their Monday night TV Party. This month their showing episodes of Arrested Development and serving frozen bananas à la The Bluth Company.