Da host:

Had us some delicious
fried oysters and some
beers. Mrs. Prol hosed
down the goth chicks at
the next table w/lemon
juice and the moon popped
outtah the mermaid's ass.

I think she's the Xit
City version of
Punxatawney Phil.

So it meant sumpin'.

Or not.

After all the driving, this was welcome:

There was also some peat
and some
Wheat Thins
<--------------

I did have to push in my
own stool. After I broke
the one I was perched upon.

The drive to DC was happily
uneventful. One wrong turn
due my mapping software.

Circled a bit looking for parking,
being a Sunday night.

TGO was waiting outside the
hotel for me, where he'd
graciously put me up.

We went up to the room,
called Peeps so she and
he could yak.

He'd brought PFs
'40, '30 and '10!

I'd say the 40 was the
best of the bunch. I'd
expected more of the
10 after having the 14,
but everything(one) ages
diffy like.

Off we went to
eat some Thai.





Food.

Then we went to the
Brickskeller to have
some tasty beers and
we got a nerdy, nebbishy
know nuttin' 'bout no
beers waiter.

Who would not fuckin'
stop thinkin' we were
lawyers until TGO
convinced him we were
telly scribblers.

Then xit got really fun.

We also shared a bottle
of champagne barrel
aged beer w/nearby table
who was ooing' and aahing
over the bottle.

2 chicks and a guy.
The guy was makin'
water when I poured
out the stuff at their
table.

And he's still not back.

And he's still not back.

So I saunter back over
and tell the ladies-
You mutherfuckers best
get drinkin' or I'm takin'
that xit back!

And we discussed
Woody Allen movies.

Next day-
NYC. I love
New York.

No trouble w/traffic, found
the Pod Hotel just fine
and even a parking ramp
across the street.
Onliest problem was the
guy in front of me was
afraid to take his car
down into the hole. He'd
ask fucks as they walked
by if they'd do it for him.

Asked me too, said he's
watch Vlad.

Um, no.

Met up w/Brooks and we
continued our quest to hit
all the dive bars in Manhattan
before they disappear. This
one's near Bloomies and prolly
isn't long for this world.

This one kills. Even has working
dumb waiters because the
kitchen is upstairs.

Lotsa real old xit on the
walls, unlike
TGIBenniganTuesday.
Pressed tin ceiling
w a a a y up there.
Mirrors in the booths.

And world class urinals.
Not the best in the world,
that'd be McSorley's, where
we went 2 days in a row
and Brooks had a conversation
w/the owner, who'd been
working there since 1964.

Next day met Porkio (long time no semen)
at Tia Pol
for a long, leisurely lunch full of
great food and conversation.

Brooks joined us after a couple
hours and we talked some more
and walked the Piggy back to
work.

We headed down to the Lower
East Side to see the Eldrige
Street synagogue, in what is
now Chinatown.

20 years and $20,000,000
in renovations in, it's
quite lovely and somewhat
awe inspiring.
It was just the 2 of us and
our guide Martin. And a
couple hours later, I knew
more about Judaism and
synagogues than I ever
thought I would.

Inside view of the main
stained glass:

Interior:

We headed to the river,
because we'd heard
there was an old bar
under the Brooklyn
bridge.

We found it, in a leaning
wooden building, 1/2 of
it looking condemned,
but it had cloth table
cloths and candles.

Not really a dive, so we
found another one to
stop in, have a couple
scoops and take a leak.

This is what it looks
like it is:

A short hop away:

The next morning I
stopped at a diner
for coffee, arranged to
meet Brooks at Rudy's
(always gotta stop @
Rudy's).

Got to Rudy's and had
to order a beer before
the beertendress would
make any coffee.

Fair fucks ta her.

McSorley's the 2nd time,
the Holiday, the Blue
and Gold.

The B+G, not to be confused w/the P+G:

I thought Chumley's had
reopened, I was wrong.
And w/that disappointment
I bid adieu to Brooks and
walked 47 blocks back to
The Pod.

Got up the next day
and got the car outtah
the lot, $147 lighter.

Had no trouble getting
99% of the way to
Pussy manor, but goddam,
even w/3 sets of directions
and a detailed map I
managed to have to drive
around for 1/2 an hour
to find the place.

Even still, I beat Pussy
home so I took a nap
in Vlad.

Loogie had called and said
he was drinkin' and would
be over in 20 minutes.
He was only off by an hour.

And off and runnin' by a
few beers too many right
from jump.

Well, not too many
at that point, but
the pump was too
pre-primed for the
night ahead.

I love a good story,
especially one with pictures.

Then go find one.

When Pussy axed me
what I wanted to do
whilst in Boston, other
than hangin' w/him and
Glassy I said suckle some
o' his suds from a commercial
tap and go to Bukowski's.

I'd only been there once
before, but it's one of my
favorite bars ever.

Birthplace of the Cindy
calling.
Great beers.
Filling, cheap food.
Great Cindys.
And Loogie always seems
to come off the rails there.
While ordering beers
based on glass and
bottle shape.

This is our Cindy for the
evening, whom none but
Loogie called Cindy,
Mariah.

She liked my fuckin'
unicorns xirt, so I
offered to trade 'er.

She wussed out
after initially sayin'
Yes.

Loogie was a great
foil, but the needle
on the boiler was
edging towards red.

BoilerS

The most amazing back bar
I've ever seen, or could even
imagine. Jacob Wirth.

Yes, good point.

I managed to explode
yours quicker'n Loogie
popped his.

That back bar must be over
15' high and about 30' long.
Covered w/ornate carvings.

Loogie explained how
"kolsch" meant cherry
and ordered something
that wasn't on the menu
and the Cindy had fuck
all idea what he was
trying to get.

So he xowed her a
tattoo.

Didn't help.

By the way, she
was a lovely native
of the Bottle Washer
Islands, which,
eventually, caused our
Loogie great mirth.