|
March 2008
WIDE AWAKE IN NEW TOWN
By: Larry Duffy
Creative Director
Sleep is for babies. Leastwise that’s what I tell myself as I lie awake in the middle of the night. I guess I sleep as well as can be expected for a guy who suffers from paper eyelids, restless limb syndrome, a faulty esophagus, collective guilt and a raging case of the heebie jeebies. Too often I can be found roaming the house in the middle of the night in a semi-somnambulant state. It was on just such a night that it occurred to me that New Town was becoming a great place for the restless to take up residence.
I began a recent weekend in much the same manner as many others, that is to say wide awake at 2:00 am. I wandered down to the couch and flipped through the cable channels. Some where between Peter Fonda (looking a lot like Norman Thayer these days) trying to sell me the spirit of the sixties in a Time Life box set and the umpteenth program delving into the ever intriguing Big Foot question, it dawned on me that I now had another way to pass these dark hours. I threw on some sweatpants, grabbed the shuffle and made a bee line for New Town Fitness. What better way to combat sleeplessness than a real exhausting workout? Thanks to the new round the clock hours at New Town fitness this is now an option.
I arrived at 3:00 am, swiped my pass card for entry and dutifully signed in. Not surprisingly I had the place to myself and I proceeded to work out all the while irrationally assuming I would be joined by others. When no one arrived I realized what a lonely fate it is to be an insomniac zombie freakazoid. I watched a desperately lame episode of Happy Days while I pounded the treadmill and considered the coming weekend agenda. The plan, as best I understood it, was to stay up all of Friday night and be at the door at 6:00 am for the opening day of T. Alderson’s Cities Service Diner. The evening was to start at Domain Street Wine Bar, move to Ruskin O’Brien’s for a little Golden Tee action and then culminate in an all night Texas Hold’em poker tournament. Real guy stuff.
After sleepwalking through Friday morning’s workload, it was a time for a Lenten lunch of fish and chips and a little Golden Tee at Ruskin’s. A few words about Golden Tee; if you’ve never played it before; don’t. The game is more addictive than heroin and almost as costly. My wife learned of my habit when our credit card statement came with a hundred dollars worth of Golden Tee charges for the prior month. She hasn’t staged an intervention yet but I suspect one is coming. For a video game, Golden Tee Golf is much like the real game featuring lots of bad shots and expletives. Only it’s better because you can have a pint of Guinness and a pile of nachos on the table next to you while you play.
As the afternoon wore on into evening and then nightfall, the wife and kids, who after all are mere mortals who require sleep, went to bed and it was time for my second wind. Meeting up at the wine bar, we eased into the night ahead. After enjoying the warm laid back environment of the wine bar, we headed over to Ruskin O’Brien’s where the action was ratcheted up a notch or two. The band was playing, the girls were dancing and the Golden Tee was available. With the single minded urgency of a junkie, I hurdled towards the machine and lovingly caressed the little white ball that brings so much joy and pain. 36 holes and one bruised palm later, it was suddenly 1:00 am, and the discussion turned towards what’s next, poker, casino or maybe New Town Fitness? A vaguely familiar sensation of fatigue began washing over me and excited at the prospect of sleep, I took my leave of the group with the promise of being at the diner at 6:00 am sharp.
What seemed like five minutes after my head hit the pillow, the alarm was blaring with grating insistency. No too many things could make me hop up at 5:30 on a Saturday morning but the prospect of the diner’s opening was more than enough.
There were a few other eager folks at 6:00 am but little did we realize that we were the first partisans of an onslaught that would last for two days. Quickly polishing off a delicious short stack and a side of bacon, I paid my bill and headed wearily back home as the diner started filling up behind me. Thinking I might be able to recapture that lightning in a bottle, which for me is sleep, I laid back down and just as I began to doze off the kids came in anxious and excited for their first taste of T. Alderson’s. How could I deny them? We headed back up and found four stools together at the counter and for my second breakfast I had a half order of biscuits and gravy featuring a biscuit the size of your head smothered in rich sausage gravy. Fat and happy, not caring at all that my efforts at the gym had been rendered null and void, I gathered up the family and made room at the counter for the next group. As we were leaving, the place really began to get going.
The name T. Alderson comes from the owners’ Dan (Jake) and Rick Jacobs’ grandfather who was on Eisenhower’s staff in World War II, which is fitting considering the invasion that was under way at the diner. Like troops hitting the beaches at Normandy, New Town sent wave after wave of hungry residents to the diner’s door and at times, simply overwhelmed them. Being New Town, I was not surprised at all to hear stories of residents who had come in to eat, instead helping out with everything from serving drinks to bussing tables. I want to make perfectly clear that this wasn’t because Jake and Rick weren’t properly prepared and staffed. On the contrary, they had done everything possible to be ready but nothing could have prepared them for the tremendous response from the community. Ninety-nine and one half percent of everyone who came in on the opening weekend was gracious and understanding of the situation. As for the other half percent they should step aside and make room for the teeming masses that are thrilled and grateful that Jake and Rick chose New Town for their exceptional business. This incredible turnout for an unadvertised soft opening is testament to the enormous effort and attention to detail paid by the Jacob brothers in creating such a unique place. The food is fantastic, the price is right and the atmosphere is engaging so I expect great crowds from this day forward.
My Saturday night turned out to be much the same as Friday with trips to The Wine Bar and Ruskin O’Brien’s. New Town was hopping as a raucous party was raising the roof off the Town Hall. I believe I even saw our New Town Goose beating his one good wing in time to the music. The Diner was still going strong and aside from the temperature it seemed like summer had returned to New Town with all the activity. I finally retired about 3:00 am and had a relaxing Sunday with another trip to the diner for lunch. I had an awesome double cheeseburger and Jenny said her Tuna Melt was the best she’s had since the days they were served at the lunch counter at Walgreens, Northwest Plaza which believe it or not is a soaring compliment. My son had the broasted chicken which he enthusiastically gave two greasy thumbs up and my daughter had a Nathan’s Coney Island hot dog without having to travel to Brooklyn for it. I ended my lost weekend appropriately with another eighteen holes of Golden Tee this time playing the beautiful but troublesome Cypress Cove course in Monterey.
Just look at all the places you can go and all the fun you can have if you use all twenty-four hours of the day. New Town Fitness is open 24/7 and T. Alderson’s Cities Service Diner opens from morning to midnight while Domain Street Wine Bar and Ruskin O’Brien’s go strong every night. There’s just so much to do for the anti-sleep sect in New Town. Once the weather warms you might even find me on a park bench by the Grand Canal at three in the morning, talking to my friend the Goose.
|