Last night over Coronas (leaving the over priced vodka soda on hold for another night) at the Baggott Inn near Washington Square Park, I got to talking with some people and realized that everyone, in their own way or another, is getting over that one bad experience that has yet to fully leave their subconscious. It’s like going to a Restaurant-of-the-Moment in Soho and having a really bad experience with their steak au poivre. Just because you get food poisoning once doesn’t mean you’ll get it the next time you order it, however, it’s difficult not to associate the taste without that memory of having spent the entire night on that bathroom floor come rushing back.
The problem however, is when you can’t stop yourself from subconsciously letting that one night ruin your life, uh I mean, rather, your love of steak, forever.
As I walked home from the subway, the construction workers on Lexington and 3rd asking me how it was possible that I was going home alone, I started to think about how life’s just like one long endless street of restaurants. You move from one to another, feeling betrayed when they close down, and walking back home, your hands in your pockets, the overwhelming feeling of disappointment hits you the way their Chianti did after the third glass.
But in the end you can’t stop life, or restaurants, from happening or closing down. I guess the only thing you can do is take comfort in the knowledge that new places will eventually open up, that menu choices will change and in the end, you can always just go vegan.
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