It hit 82 degrees in New York City this Monday, and while we’ll get blasé about such things eventually, memories of the long, cold winter still haunt us, and we welcomed the sun like starved things grateful for a crumb.
So out we went, to one of Central Park’s most scenic and private nooks, to enjoy our afternoon.
Did the lawn around us really need the amount of care the two city employees tasked with mowing it seemed determined to give it? We don’t know. But my goodness, that grass got a thorough mowing, lasting from 1pm to somewhere near 4. At one point, they were reduced to mowing the rocks.
The lawnmower men aside, we spent a joyful afternoon unmolested by any human (an adorable troupe of tiny dogs descended upon us at one point, but we welcomed their company — and took the opportunity to educate their walker, a woman who seemed surprised to learn that it’s legal in New York for her to go topless anywhere a man can).
For reading material we had new offerings from our friends at Hard Case Crime (including a new Lawrence Block book — he was the author we read at our very first event back in 2011!), Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing, and (for those with less sophisticated tastes, clearly) Tender Is the Night.
And when the afternoon waned, did we pack up and go home? No! We walked a dozen blocks downtown and moved the festivities indoors, at a neighborhood cafe that kindly let us take over their wood-paneled, fireplace-featuring downstairs cocktail lounge.
Not the best lighting conditions for photography, but perfect for other pleasures, and pleasures were there many. Including beverages courtesy of a good-humored mixologist who took our presence in stride.
God bless New York bartenders. Nothing fazes ’em.