Memoir: Stumbling out of Bars

Today after going for our run, we were too lazy to cook, so we went to Sophia's Thai Kitchen, our favorite local restaurant. The only available tables were in the Thai room, where guests sit on "authentic" cushions at low tables in a little muraled alcove. We were very hungry, so we agreed to doff our shoes and brave the Thai room, even though my hip flexors suck on a good day and Mike's quads were throbbing. To ease the pain we treated ourselves to one measly round of drinks along with dinner, with the result that I became rather musical as we were leaving the restaurant, and Mike, having decided that he wasn't flexible enough to put on his shoes in the alcove, exited in his sock feet to shod himself in the spacious courtyard.

This incident reminded me of another, nearly seven years ago, on the first night of college. My roommates Erin and Jothi and I invited our new neighbor Jeff to the West End for drinks, and Jeff for some reason (shock?) accepted our offer without going back to his room to get some sneakers. He was literally halfway down 114th street before we prevailed upon him to change his mind. If it hadn't been for Lit Hum I would probably never have known Jeff was cool. We didn't get into the West End that night--this was before Erin and I got fake ID's with thumbprints on them from a luggage store in Times Square--so the group broke up, but Erin and I continued down Broadway and discovered the Abbey Pub, where we quickly became friends.