Yesterday in New York City was one of those stellar days of weather where I can actually fool myself into believing that this really is the best city in the world. Beautiful blue skies and a light breeze with low humidity meant one thing: find a rooftop deck and get drunk. I took my ass over to the Press Lounge at Ink 48 hotel and went to the 16th floor and got my cocktail on. I ordered the Excelsior which was tequila poured over lime juice and ice with sugar and cayenne pepper garnished with a pepper dusted orange slice. Yeah, it was good, but for $16, it ought to be. The view was stunning and when I got there, the only other people on the deck were those of a movie crew who were doing some location scouting. It was all “and then Sarah Jessica could do this” and “then Sarah Jessica could do that.” I assume it was Sarah Jessica Parker they were talking about but for all I know it was the Sarah Jessica Grenburg who works at the Marshalls in Rego Park Queens. The movie crew was a little distracting with all their tape measures and cameras, but one look at the Empire State Building was enough to let it not matter anymore.
After I ordered my second cocktail the deck was beginning to get more crowded. It was full of people who were there using a business Am Ex card. Seated next to us was a group who looked like they were in New York City for some dumb ass team-building workshop for their job. The group started out as one woman who seemed nice enough. She sat down on the couch and patiently waited for her friends or a server. After about five minutes she was joined by two women. One of them was all corporate America bitch with poorly highlighted hair and big clunky jewelry. As as she walked up, she asked the other one, “So how do we get a drink? I’m thirsty.” The seemingly friendly and patient one answered, ” I saw a waitress, but she hasn’t gotten to us yet. I think we just wait.” That’s right, lady. You wait. But Corporate America Bitch doesn’t wait. After about twenty seconds (yes, I timed it) she said, “This is taking too long,” and she got up to presumably round up some service. She came back to her seat and said, “Someone told me she’d be right out.” After another minute had passed, she was up again. She went right to a busser and spoke to him about getting a waitress. She came back to her seat exasperated as if she had done something really difficult. It’s not the Amazing Race, honey. Relax. “Every time, I try to order something, they tell me to sit and wait. I’m thirsty.” That’s right, lady. You wait. Maybe she didn’t see the other people pouring out of the elevator and spilling out onto the patio who also were thirsty. Maybe she was frustrated that her assistant wasn’t there who would normally hop right to it when she needed something.
After an eternity, (two minutes) the waitress finally showed up to ask them what they wanted. And guess what: they didn’t know yet. That’s right. As is typical, these bitches who were in such a fucking hurry to order and were so incredibly thirsty had no idea what they wanted. “Oh, is there a menu? Ummm, lemme see…uh, I think I will have a, ummmm….” The waitress smiled but my x-ray waiter eyes showed me it was a fake one. “I’ll have a prosecco,” said one lady. “Oooh, prosecco, what’s that?” said another. I rolled my eyes on behalf of the waitress who was still fake smiling.
After their drinks came, their group grew large enough to get a little too close to me; one guy sat down on the edge of the couch I was on so now his ass was a few inches away from my hand. I wanted to shove his eleven dollar Amstel Light up it, but changed my seat instead. Their incessant chatting about work and business and leadership exercises made me want to throw them off the deck and onto Eleventh Avenue sixteen floors below. Of course I wouldn’t do that because most of them were way too heavy for me to be able to throw off the roof. In addition to the strength it would have taken, it would very possibly mean the end of my time on the deck.
I sucked down the last of my tequila, ate my orange wedge and stumbled to the elevator. By now the roof was full of corporate mid-level management all trying to impress one another. It was kind of disgusting and I made a mental note to always get to this deck at 3:30 to avoid all the bullshit. I took one last look at the Hudson River and New Jersey and then to the other side I glimpsed Times Square only four blocks away. It truly was a spectacular view. Even though the waitress was stuck serving big wig douche bags she at least had the view to help her through the day. And if it ever got really bad, I would suggest an Excelsior in a paper cup underneath the computer. It certainly was the highlight of my day.
(And yes, that is me on the deck with my cocktail firmly in my hand.)