Blogger The Only Livin’ Girl in New York is convinced that Brooklyn Heights is out to get her or she’s cursed or both. Whether it’s a recalcitrant bartender at the Henry St. Ale House or an overzealous manicurist she’s been having a rough time in the nabe:
Only Livin’ Girl in New York: My suspicions began about a month and a half ago when I wandered into my favorite neighborhood pub, The Henry Street Ale House. I was a bit tired from a long Ultimate Frisbee game and ready to hunker down with a beer and draft out a few ideas I’d drummed up on the A-train during my trip home.
I plopped down on my favorite bar stool and noticed there was obviously a new tender poorin’ the Ale. Usually Pete says, “hey Tina the IPA?” and I say “yep, and a pen please“. And he complies and I over-tip…Pete’s not the warmest man on the planet but I’ve won him over a bit and so he treats me right.
So, this night I plopped down on my favorite stool, (the place was virtually empty) and I waited for a solid seven-ish minutes while the new guy chatted with some other servers. Finally he came over…
“I’ll have the Stone IPA, a water with no ice and a pen please”
“no pen” he says
“huh? No pen? What do you mean no pen?”
“I don’t have a pen.”
“really? you don’t have a pen?”
“I don’t have a pen I’m going to give you.”
“what? are you serious? You have no extra pens layin’ around?”
He leaves and pours my beer..delivers it and still no pen.
“if I gave everyone who asked for one, I wouldn’t have any pens left” he says
I glance around the bar…making a clear but unspoken point about its obvious emptiness.
“you must be new” I remark
“why because I won’t give you a pen?”
“no… because I come here frequently and Pete would give me a pen and Cyril would give me a pen…”
*he sighs again and leaves…and returns with a pen*