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“Bar Americain”
Occasion: | Cuisine: | Area: | Cost: | Rating: |
Night Out | New American | Midtown | Moderate | Great |
The Scene: A couple—a man and women, in their late forties, early fifties—are seated next to (practically on top of) each other. She (E. Jean Carroll from Elle magazine, I believe) leans in, one hand on each of his thighs, each one inching perilously close to his crotch. She whispers in his ear (loudly enough for all of us at the bar to hear): “I have been infatuated with you since the moment I met you. You are the most dazzling man. You are so sexy.” She parts her glossy lips, moves into him and lays one on him. He pulls her off her seat, his hands lifting her up by her tiny bottom. They play tonsil hockey for what seems like 10 minutes as I try to maneuver around them to score a cocktail. I fear they may consummate their relationship right here in front of me. Everyone at the bar is in awe. They are oblivious, locked in their makeout session and groping under blouses and ties. All of us at the bar are all rolling our eyes and mouthing “GET A ROOM!” She pulls away, breathless, and starts to straddle him, and they kiss, full throttle, again. He pulls away and declares: “I knew I wanted you the moment you walked into the room,” and some other crap. He is slurring his words. She spills a drink and laughs. They kiss again. At this point I am ready to heave, and leave. Thankfully the bartender, Max who used to work at Casa Mono, catches my eye and makes me a perfect margarita. I try to squeeze my hand into the bar to get my drink, without disrupting the scene in front of me but I cannot get to it. A sweet man seated next to them passes it to me and gives me a knowing wink.
After a merciless 20 minutes of bumping, grinding, humping, and straddling, the E. Jean look alike (who I believe was E. Jean) and her date leave. About seven of us (all strangers) at the bar sigh with relief and immediately start talking about them, in total disbelief. I have not seen anything like that since I was 19 and in a fraternity house at Lehigh University.
Finally, my friends arrive and we get some nice real estate at the long and sexy (as the activity indicates) bar, backed by a mammoth mirror distressed to bistro perfection. Kiri decided to forgo her usual cocktail and order one of the classics on the BA list, and went for the Whiskey Smash, what our bartender described as a “Manhito” ... [more, click below]
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