Last night, I headed down to Gramercy for a girls night out with my friend Bobbi and four of her galpals.
Our first stop — the Hurricane Club, a swanky Asian fusion restaurant with high ceilings, huge potted plants and a Casablanca meets Sex And The City vibe. As I took in the perfectly coiffed, fashionista and GQ-heavy crowd, we enjoyed the exotic flavors for which this place is known (sangria garnished with lychee and flowers, PB and guava “J” with thai basil, cashew chicken).
After a sinfully decadent dessert of chocolate devils food cake with a carmelized banana slice, we walked a few blocks north to the Gansevoort Hotel on Park Avenue. Like its equally trendy SoHo sibling, the newer Gansevoort has become a place to see and be seen. Velvet ropes, guest lists, bouncers with attitude — you get the idea.
Fortunately, though we weren’t on any guest list, Bobbi managed to work her charm and the fact that we were a group of six women to get us inside after only a 15 minute wait. Much as I feared, what we found at the hotel’s rooftop bar wasn’t my idea of a good time — loud, thumping music and an overcrowded scene.
Call me a party pooper, but all the allure of floor to ceiling windows, plush couches and low lightings dims pretty quickly when you’re constantly getting jostled.
Sensing my lack of enthusiasm, Bobbi read my mind when she said–
“We’re getting too old for this.”
Amen to that.
And so, one quick non-alcoholic drink later, I said goodnight and stepped onto the elevator — whereupon I found myself standing across from a cute, salt and pepper haired guy. He smiled at me, quickly introduced himself and before I knew it, we were sitting in the lobby exchanging tales of travel and creative inspirations.
It turned out he was celebrating a friend’s birthday. I was ready to head home anyway, so we exited together — and he gallantly walked me to a taxi.
I was still smiling as the cab pulled up in front of my building. For the first time in a long time, new york had surprised me in a good way. Like my often exasperating, never let up hometown was telling this single gal — hang in there, you never know what’s right around the corner.
I just love it when that happens.