I'm Moving to the Country, Gonna Eat A Lot of Peaches

I’m one of those annoying people who gets all panicky when someone mentions leaving NYC to live somewhere else.

My boyfriend, from time to time, will just throw out names of small towns and suburbs as possible places to reside. Sometimes I think he does it just to see the look of sheer horror on my face.

“Poughkeepsie” he said the other day.

“BLAAAEAGHHHH” was what came out of my mouth.

I did try to relocate once, going as far as interviewing for some jobs on the West Coast. I was pretty sure I was leaving. Yet somehow, here I am. Still here.

I will admit, every once in a while, I am struck by how much I am starting to dislike it here. While I am waiting on a long-ass line to run on a treadmill like a freaking hamster, I realize how insane it is to go the gym to get a workout, only to have to stand around for half an hour staring at OTHER people working out. Or when I am riding in on the train from Brooklyn, and it still takes me over an hour to get to work because the subway system is ALWAYS a mess, it seems.

I feel that, come weekends, I rarely if ever even leave the fair borough of Brooklyn. I’m too afraid to venture out into the wilds of Manhattan anymore. Who can take advantage of all it has to offer, when everything is too crowded and too expensive? In addition, anything that is authentic and cool eventually gets replaced by a mini-mall or a hi-rise apartment building…and that depresses me.

The other night, Beehive and I made a very rare appearance in the East Village Sat. night, to go to a movie. Miraculously, we were able to get tickets and seats without arriving 3 hrs ahead of time (they weren’t available online) which to me was a good sign.

The movie let out around 9:00 and I was excited to grab a bite and a dirty martini somewhere before heading back to Prospect Heights.

Our first stop was to Cedar Tavern, a place that I have been frequenting forever, and had been around for 100+ years. I loved that fucking place and, sadly, hadn’t been in a while. Imagine my horror and disgust when we walked up to a boarded up Cedar Tavern…apparently it is now closed and in its place will be…you guessed it…condos.

Ok. So I’m pretty distressed about this, but determined to get that dirty martini and a burger anyway, and definitely need it more than ever. So we walk. And walk. And walk. Everywhere that we could think of to go was packed to the gills. Places that I never would have even looked at, much less dined at, were crowded to the rafters.

Beehive, always the calm and gentle one, kept a smile on his face while starving on the inside. Me, I was a bitch on wheels, cursing every single restaurant like they were purposely keeping me from nourishing my poor, weak self (ok, stop snickering. I hadn’t eaten all day, had worked out for two hours and was PMS, dude!)

We found ourselves in the West Village, having peeked into places off of 7th Avenue South that we would have never DARED enter under normal circumstances (all, what do you think…PACKED) and I suggested we just hop on the train and get off in Brooklyn Heights. I figured, it’s now 10pm. Brooklyn Heights—how happening can it be?

Little did I know. Brooklyn Heights was TRES happening at 10pm on a Saturday night.

Every single place that I had in mind was inconceivably stuffed with people, stuffing their faces tauntingly as I peeked into windows of joints I hadn’t been to in years.

Holy mother of fuck, when did this happen? When did it become absolutely impossible to get a fucking bite to eat after a movie?

Right when I was about to give up and suggested eating PB&J and drinking boxed wine, I thought of ONE last place to go. My one last beacon of hope in a sea of disappointment and famine. The Heights Café on Montague and Hicks. Another mainstay of mine for years when I lived in the ‘hood—good service, good food, and cheap wine. We sat. We stuffed our faces. I owe you one, Heights Café.

New York City, on the other hand, I have nothing to say to you. You have disappointed me yet again, yet sadly I have come to expect this from you.

Poughkeepsie has a nice ring to it, doncha think?