4/14/03 Grimaldi's with the Riggs'; Brooklyn Waterfront; Lounge, Jazz and Tradition in West Village:







[In the above photo, it's Erin on the left, trying to create a persona on my website that is a total mis-match to her real life personality, and Alyssa and Sean on the right, genuine.]

Well, here we go again. I'm not sure how it started. I believe it was Aaron and Mike's fault. In their never-ending quest to find the greatest pizza within reach of a Metrocard, they came across one of the legendary pizza parlors in the city. Grimaldi's. Under the Brooklyn Bridge by Fulton Ferry in Brooklyn. We went a few times. Eventually Erin came with us. She fell in love with it, including the pepperoni's, and then... somewhere along the line, when Erin's friend Alyssa was visiting, Erin brought her there. Alyssa flipped out from the place, and the next time Alyssa's parents visited New York, Erin and I took them there. They, in turn, also busted a gut over the pizza. They have surprisingly discerning pizza taste for people who spend most of their time on the "left coast."



Anyway, all of these factors brought together this evening. Alyssa and her family were visiting New York again, and we were all invited to the pilgrimage to Grimaldi's under the Brooklyn Bridge. I met Erin at her place. Shortly after Alyssa arrived with her new romantic interest, Sean. The details of their meeting continue to evade my memory, but they had been corresponding for a little while, were quite smitten with each other, and had met in person for the first time within the past 48 hours. But by the way they acted, you would have thought they were together for a long time. You know, one of those kinds of situations.




The four of us took the A train from Fulton St. in Manhattan to High St. in Brooklyn. It's a one stop hop under the east river. We just missed the last New York Water Taxi and were unable to make the trip like many New Yorkers of years gone by.

We met up with Alyssa's family, already at Grimaldi's on line. There is almost always a line. This was a Monday night.




While the family was on line, to kill some time, we walked the one block down to the East River. The view from this location, just next to the Brooklyn Bridge, looking downtown, is incredible. It was the last place I admired the Twin Towers from. About a week before September 11th, a whole bunch of the college group went to Grimaldi's, and we went down to the water and looked at our city. The World Trade Center used to dominate the view.

It has gotten to the point where it is no longer heart wrenching just to see the skyline. It doesn't look like there is a hole in it anymore. At least, not automatically. We took some photos. It's breathtaking anyway. Just... a little less so.




The sun was setting. From the same location, looking back up Fulton Street in Brooklyn, you can see the little lighthouse in which there is an ice cream shop (closed on Mondays.) The restaurant is just behind that, on the next block.

There is a Fulton Street on both sides of the East River. If they were to extend into the water, they would join without much of a curve. Why would they name streets this way? Did they think the East River would be someday drained, and that Fulton St. would go straight across? No. The answer is that Mr. Fulton was the first person to operate a substantial ferry business between Brooklyn and Manhattan. The streets leading down to his docks were called Fulton Street, as they were the streets you would take to get to Fulton's ferry. On both sides of the East River.




After 12 attempts, I finally tricked my digital camera into the correct light settings to get this shot of the city lights and the young couple. These are the smiles of two very patient people. Awwww.




First, the drinks. Peroni is an Italian beer and goes surprisingly well with Pizza. It stands to reason, right? Except that Pizza is a New York invention. Go figure. The Black Cherry on the right is Erin's favorite.




The Pizza. Very thin crust. Very good sauce. There's no arguing that it's the best first bite in town. I'll sometimes eat them crust-first so that I save the best bite... the tip of the triangle... for last. But I'm not the crazy one. This is how Alyssa eats her Grimaldi's Pizza:



With the Plate!!! What's the deal, Alyssa!? I'm just kidding. We both have our strange Grimaldi's habits.




The slice.




Here's Alyssa and her much-younger sister. For 3 years old, she was very well behaved at the table.




She played with this doll for much of the time. Unfortunately, while playing with Sean, she suddenly decided to hit him with the doll. The hard eyes happened to hit Sean in just the right way, knocking his glasses to the floor, and startling him and the rest of the party.



Here they are in the aftermath, Sean recoiling from the seemingly harmless doll, as he now knew better. Poor guy. This was probably the low point of the evening for him, as it was all uphill from here.




Alyssa's mother tells a story. Erin, Alyssa's Father, and Grandmother listen.




Father and daughters with love.




It was an excellent meal. It always is. Definitely one of the best pies in town. With stomachs full, we trudged back up Fulton St. in Brooklyn to High Street to get the subway.





At this intersection, Sean asked me a question that he thought I might know, as I am well versed in urban affairs. He showed me a lamp post with an orange light on the side. And he asked me why these orange lights are on lamp posts, seemingly sporadically, all over the city. I had never paid them much attention. I could only guess that they meant the presence of something, and I guessed a telephone booth. But that would be silly. And it was hard to prove or disprove that hypothesis. It's a mystery. Does anyone know?




Getting back into the subway, I took this photo at the token booth. A few days later, an almost identical photo appeared in the City section of the New York Times! I could have been a newspaper photographer! [Last night was the last day in which Tokens were sold in the NYC subway. For now.]



Waiting for the rest of the party to descend.




High Street station, being close to the tunnel under the East River, is very deep. A LONG escalator is in place. Similar stations for other lines in this part of Brooklyn have elevators.




We were treated to some live music while waiting for our train. Click here to see and hear some of it.



We all got back to Fulton St. (Manhattan) and had to choose our courses of action. Erin had to go to bed to be at work the next day. I was mixed. Alyssa and Sean wanted to go out on the town and wanted me to come. Sean promised that we wouldn't go to any obnoxious bars. He suggested a place he likes where there was some Jazz. I agreed to go. I'm glad I did. I got introduced to a place just off Sheridan Square. It's a long, thin bar, with some seats, and a performance space at the back.



These guys were really jammin'. They were playing big band standards. Clarinet, trumpet, trombone, piano, and drums. And they were all older fellows. I wondered, out loud, while they were playing, if they started when they were older, or if they had been playing together for a long time. I got my question answered at the end of the set. The gentleman with the microphone announced that they would be back next Monday, and that they had been there every Monday for the past 40 years! AHHHHHHH! I'm SOOO going back.




Good times. Odd man out. Good times anyway.



Alyssa's girlie drink and my Sambuca. Suddenly Sean says we should try another place he knows in the neighborhood while they set up for the next set. So I down my Sambuca (which I usually sip) and don't feel no pain for the rest of the evening. My tolerance to liquor is comparable to trying to pour a gallon of water into a thimble without it overflowing. Most people would have to inject the alcohol directly into their bloodstream, on an empty stomach, after fasting for three days, with a syringe, to get the effect of one shot on my system after a full meal of 4 slices of pizza.


Tipsy, and out on the town, we searched for the other place.



This is the last good photo I have of the evening. We found a lounge on Bleecker. It was just lovely. And with the no smoking laws taking effect, it was a whole new world. This was the first evening that I had ever been "bar hopping" even though I only went to two. We never made it back to the Jazz place, because we got comfortable and tired at the lounge. And it was first time I had been to a "lounge." And Sean had many other places to recommend, which I will be trying out for some time.


Overall, it was a fabulous evening. Good pizza. Good people. Good times. I got to learn a lot about New York nightlife that I had never cared to know about before. And I was introduced to an amazing weekly city institution that probably very few people know about. We stayed out until about 2am, and then parted ways to face our respective Tuesdays in New York.