I don't really recall what lead us to it. But on Friday night, we end up at this great place called Gold Dust, near union square. I had been here once before, very happy I had a chance to visit it again. The place probably has been there since the 1940's, and it probably has not been remodeled, or even cleaned, since then. You feel like you are in the lounge of a rundown casino in Reno. Only three kinds of people patronize the Gold Dust, tourist in town from the mid-west, hardcore drunks like me and joe, and underage kids, I am really not making this up. The two bartenders probably have the combined age of 120, and they both suffer from the illusion that they are actually cool. There were three guys playing all the hillbilly classic songs, big hair women and guys with head size belt-buckle dancing to the music, high schooler drinking long island ice teas, me and joe getting wasted and laughing our asses off, it was fantastic. Whoever kept this place running the way it is is a pure genius. The best part of it all, everyone in there is having a grand time, just awesome.
Congratulation to Yan and Ji. And thinks to esin for a lovely time on Sunday afternoon, it has been a while since I been to an apartment as clean as this one. Well, until paul drops a piece of cake on the fucking carpet, great job. You know it is a great party when duan actually drank a cold soda and you are given beers on your way out. Thanks to the free beers, an usually quiet sunday became....
okay, one drunken story is enough for a single blog entry, I am making that an official rule here at nowarmsoda. I don't remember much of last night anyway.
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1 comment:
dude, i love that place. irish coffee for like two bucks, or whatever. can't beat microwaved day-old coffee and whatever well whisky they stick in there. except i'm not a hardcore drunk like you. :)
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