the pink politic

A swig of one New Yorker's beautiful life...

...and the beginning of my own beautiful life as a New Yorker.

I've been inspired by my friend Hayden - he's going to Paris for the fall semester of his senior year and has already started blogging about the trip prep even though he isn't leaving until September - to update my blog more often. Instead of only writing about big issues or posting pieces I wrote for class, I'm going to start a new chapter now and write about my life as a Columbia journalism grad student and a resident of New York City.

With about a month until my move-in, this new section will probably get off to a slow start. But my boyfriend (Andrew) is already living in the building. He moved into his studio at the beginning of the month to start a job in Midtown. I've been visiting on weekends and we've already made friends with the staff of the diner across the street from our building.

We went there for a late dinner Saturday night after exploring Lincoln Center all afternoon. My stomach had been acting funny, so I wanted to order the most bland dish on the menu, which ended up being a broiled half-chicken dinner. When I ordered, our Russian waitress warned, "That takes 30 minutes to make. You still want?"

I still wanted.

"It's very good, just take long to make."

Not two minutes later, the head waiter (or whatever, who can really tell in diners?) of seemingly Spanish descent came over and said to me in a hushed tone, "You know that takes 30 minutes. You okay?"

"I'm okay if you're okay!"

"Of course, of course! He's paying!" he said, gesturing toward Andrew.

Several minutes later, after I'd officially begun to feel like the fatty who ordered the fatso meal (my half chicken also came with a salad, bread, a baked potato with sour cream, and a veggie), our waiter was back to chat.

"How long you two been married?" he asked Andrew.

"We're not."

"What you waiting for! She's a beautiful girl! Let me tell you how it goes..." And he proceeded to impart Andrew with the knowledge of diamond rings and other manly things.

Meanwhile, our Russian waitress who'd been listening to the exchange, suddenly appeared at my side. "Let me tell you how it goes," she said with a wink.

She went on to complain about the cooking, the cleaning, the housework, the womanly duties, but all with a grin. Then she softened. "But when he says a few words in my language," she said, "I melt like honey.

"That's life and life is beautiful."

Later Andrew noticed her take a flask out of her pocket, take a big swig, swoosh it around in her mouth, and swallow it down.

I left the diner hoping the man who speaks her language was still awake when she got home so our waitress could take another swig of her beautiful life.

posted by Tina @ 8:31 PM