naked notes

Last week two friends managed to lure me out of my apartment and back into the city. The thought of stepping outside my door and hemorrhaging money was enough to make me want to burrow deeper into the sofa and continue my marathon viewing of The Wire on DVD. This is New York after all. She’ll charge you for the air you breathe. She’s that kind of petty bitch. (Besides, The Wire really is as good as everyone says.)

But there were good reasons to leave the house. People were sending me e-vites to “Friendraisers”—the kind of thing where folks don’t want your money—they just want to see you. Friends who could afford to be hung-over called and invited me to brunch. Friends who needed an “I hate New York” rehabilitation buddy were reaching out. She, in particular, was ready to make a break for Los Angeles. I couldn’t let that happen, that’s one less friend I’d have in a city already filled with grouchy trolls. Besides, I knew she couldn’t afford the plane ticket home. She’s stuck here. I’m stuck here. We’re all stuck here. So let’s make the best of it, I figured. Why not leave the house and socialize in a public setting?

And that’s just what I did. But not before eating at home first. Because this, people, is how you can meet up with friends somewhere cool, without feeling like you’re going to break the bank. That’s right, even when you’re off to a restaurant, eat at home first. I mean, it makes sense don’t it? You always take a few shots before you head to the bar nowadays, so why not apply the same logic elsewhere? If your friends can go out and eat, fine. But don’t let that stop you from going out and joining them. I’m constantly isolating myself because I don’t want to spend something I haven’t got. But I’m learning to be crafty. And this whole eating before you got out thing is working for me. It’s helping me be social and outgoing again.

With a full belly and with no more than $4 cash in hand, I set off. I knew I’d have just enough for coffee, a coke, a side of fries or a cheap dessert. And that’s all I needed in front of me to not look or feel too pathetic. One cup of coffee is good enough to sustain several hours of conversation. It’s enough to make a person euphoric about leaving the house. It’s even better if you get free re-fills. One cup of coffee is also enough to piss off any hipster-waiter who hovers constantly and asks if you’ll have anything else, and then gets irritated at the fact that you won’t have anything else, and then tries to make you move to a different table while you’re engrossed in deep conversation with your friend about the food truck you might go in on because life’s just not worth living if you can’t love the work you do. (I know it’s a run-on sentence. Deal.)

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve worked at restaurants and I know the power of turning a table quickly. I also understand that hipsters have to make a living too. But when there ain’t another person around to serve and when a person like me hasn’t left the house in ages to socialize; you best watch yo-self. Hard times call for hard callous living, and these days, I’m in the mood to throw back about as much attitude as a hipster-waiter can throw my way. And you better believe I’ll leave a penny as a tip. I’m hard like that (Okay, I’ve never really done that, Muslim guilt is very much like Jewish and Catholic guilt. I’d feel dirty inside).

I won’t lie, there was a time I’d look at my broke friends and think, if you can’t afford to pay your part of the bill or leave a decent tip, why’d you even bother to come out. But now I’m one of those friends and you’re one of those friends, and because we didn’t buy a beer and a burger, we’ve turned hipster-waiter into one of those friends too. But come on. Step off my balls. Hipster-waiters of NY let’s make something clear: If you’re not with us, then you’re against us. If beneath those home haircuts and those Brooklyn Industry screen-print tees, you feel no empathy, sympathy or sense of patience for the broken and downtrodden, then I curse you: May your band never sign to a major record label, and if your band does get signed to a major label or even an indie label, because god know the music industry has gone to shit, may your freshman and sophomore albums be colossal failures on iTunes. I can’t say I hope your album ends up in the dollar bin, because these days everything on iTunes is a dollar, but you know what I’m sayin’ to you. Every yin has its yang and your day too shall come.

And in the spirit of Karma, I’m gonna ask all you broken people out there to do me a little favor and have yourself some fun this weekend.  Invite a broke friend out. Google a nice restaurant or bar in your neighborhood. Check out the reviews. If you find a place with bad service, go there and see if you can passive aggressively piss off your hipster-waiter. Never mind the food; you already ate. You’re just there to have a five hour long conversation with an old friend over a good cup of coffee.  You ain’t got no where to be, so take your time, sip slowly and celebrate the moments of your life…

Category: NY Finds

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