Luis Bunuel wrote in LAST GASP “I also remember a bar at the Plaza Hotel in New York, a busy meeting place which at the time was off limits to women. Any friend of mine passing through New York knew that if he wanted to find me, he had only to go to the Plaza bar at noon.”
Like Luis Bunuel I long shared the Spanish director’s perchance for drinking in the early afternoons. With no one, but the bartender and the handy man. Quiet solitude, a double gin-tonic, half the ice, twice the gin. My locals in this century the 169 Bar on East Broadway and Frank’s Lounge in Fort Greene. The solitude sheltered from the day by stygian shadows served by Dakota at the 169 and Tim at Frank’s. The music guiding the way through the afternoon. Paradise.