So over the weekend I celebrated my 21st birthday. It was the same Sunday, the 25th, that the city received probably more than 20 inches of snow. I spent the first couple of hours before the storm hit celebrating with family and some old faces. It was a positive birthday overall, and I didn’t mind the snow. It was oddly relaxing to have the city to myself.
At midnight on Sunday I wished myself a Happy Birthday. My dad was asleep while I got ready and accepted the fact that there would be no more awkward moments in restaurants when I asked for a drink. We went to the Rooftop Bar in Flatiron. We didn’t stay there long, as the bar was filled with the lamest crowd.
We walked out of the bar, and I realized something: I don’t know many bars in Manhattan. I never had a fake and waited for the glorious day to come naturally. When it did on Sunday at 3 AM, I returned to a familiar place. The location was the same establishment that had served me even before I turned 21. I knew I wanted to stop in and say hi before the night ended and the snow started. My friend, Michael, was sitting in his usual spot at the bar. He was in the corner wearing a grey sweatshirt with Chinese characters on it. I remember that the red lights had come on by then, and my bartender friends had come over to wish me a happy birthday. I told them my little secret, and they laughed. For the year I have been supporting their bar, they never asked for my ID once!
There was something special about returning to that bar. I felt comfort and safety while I was there. Talking to Michael reminded me of how fun it was to sit in the corner of a hole-in-the-wall bar and just talk. It is such a privilege to talk about anything on my mind. To be able to express yourself to someone freely is a gift, so it was refreshing to see him again. Our meeting was a reminder for me that he was there the entire time.
I ended the night at a jazz event. People would come up, sing their tunes with the help of a piano man, and have a drink. On the back wall was Lady Gaga in a black director’s chair. The photo, from what I remember, was as tall as me. Her smile was wide, and her hair was breathtakingly beautiful. I felt comforted by her gaze as she stared back at me. I have a newfound appreciation for these types of places. The way people gather in them is almost sacred. Here you can live without fear of just turning 21 in a big city.
TJL