Sloping, Part 2, and a Saint

So, after Bierkraft and some minor distractions as we walked down the street (like coat hooks in the shape of robots), we made it to our next stop: The Gate. We ordered our first beers sort of randomly. Unfortunately, I did not have my notebook, so I cannot make a full report of these beers.

Round one saw T with a Scottish Ale, AK with a German bock, and me with this beauty. The best part about the Hop Devil is the nose on it. It's not the overwhelming hops scent that comes off a lot of the American "strong" IPAs, but instead, it's got that slight tang to it, that smells a little bit like fresh grass and a little bit like pot. I opted for the cask conditioned version of this, which meant the beer was outstandingly fresh and clean across the palate, but not quite the blistering cold I like my IPAs to be. An enjoyable experience.

We played gin for hours, it seemed, on a back patio full of splintered wooden tables and benches. There was a little dog called Zeus wandering around, sticking his tongue into discarded glasses, nosing into a pizza box.

To one side of us were a group of bicycle racers, still in their tight shirts and pants, splitting big plates of fries and pitchers, swapping races stories and taking inventory of injuries collected.

On the other side were a group of 20somethings wearing sunglasses and great hats, playing dominoes for cash. When my friends excused themselves for a smoke, I dug into my bag to start reading that awful book I picked up at the coffee shop. While I was reading, one of the domino guys had a Budweiser backwash explosion, and I shook my head at him, sort of laughing to myself. The ringleader called me out on it, and we started chatting.

Domino King: What're you reading?
Me: Some shitty book (show him the cover).
Domino King: Where'd you get it?
Me: Um, some coffee shop up the street (wave, point, flail).
Domino King: Ozzie's? You're new here.
Me: It's true.
Domino King: Where you from? How long you been here?
Me: Indiana...and about 6 months.
Domino King: You live here? Only one more question, I promise.
Me: Nope, I live out in Bushwick (I notice my voice gets hard and little defensive when I say this, as though daring him to belittle my burned out apartments and midnight street fights).
Domino King: (winces). Ouch. And what's your situation?
Me: Um, I'm not really sure what that mean.
Domino King: (while his friends laugh) Perfect answer. Enjoy your beer.

We cheers, and my friends come back, and we get into rounds two and three and four. The beers were light and dry and perfect for the setting sun kind of afternoon we were having.

Afterwards, I left T and AK, who were heading to a show to see Deer tick. I headed into the city to spend time with the Texan and some friends, celebrating a new job, which we did at Rudy's, with $7 pitchers and too many free hot dogs.

The Texan and I were a little tipsy, so we sang songs on the train on the way home. Some Irish songs, and some Motley Cru, and some Magnetic Fields.

Yesterday, we spent time around St. Mark's. Lunch was had at the delicious, and mostly affordable S'mac. We split a medium order of cheeseburger macaroni (think Hamburger Helper, only fresh and with a layer of crunchy cheese on top) which ran us $9 and we were full for the rest of the day. The only problem with that place are the damn chairs. They're just too bulky for the tiny space of the restaurant and the close proximity of the tables to one another. Beyond that, a delightful place for lunch.

A second hand shop yielded a great yellow cardigan sweater for $10, and a smoke shop down St. Mark's place took another $20 from us. The Texan had a bubble tea (he's enamored with Asian culture) and we just walked and chatted and soaked in the city until it got too cold. Then we headed to Beacon's Closet off the Bedford stop, where I got a Beerland, Texas teeshirt, and the Texan bought one that has Santa eating a hamburger. He calls it Santabuns.

After we made it back to Bushwick, we hit up the grocery for chili fixins and chocolate chip cookies, all for the reasonable price of $8, and spent the rest of the night in my room, trying out our smoke shop purchase and giggling and eating cookies and watching Frasier.

A perfect Brooklyn weekend.

Coming posts to discuss:

National Poetry Month
A tasting of the 8 beers I have in the apartment
Why I feel awkward dressing for summer
How to be a good assistant (am I, Bossman? I think so!)