“New York City: A True 8th Avenue Tale” By Bob Heaney.

My friend Bob works as a bouncer on the doors of The Tempest, a great little dive bar on New York’s 8th Avenue. A few days ago, Bob had this utterly jaw dropping story to tell…

A true 8th Avenue tale. Apologies in advance for the use of profanity and one particularly offensive term, but the story wouldn’t be nearly as interesting if it wasn’t quoted verbatim and uncensored:

It was a typical Friday night at Tempest and the evening had thus far been uneventful. We were expecting a decent crowd to file out of the Knicks game and into the pub, but until the final buzzer sounded in the Garden we would have to settle for the slow but reliable business from the handful of regulars and the odd passerby that stopped into the pub. Hoping to kill some time, I stepped out front for a smoke. Within moments of me lighting the cigarette, an unusual-looking fellow approached me. His clothes were far too big for his body (although his build was anything but frail) and he had a manic look in his eyes that was unmistakably the gaze of someone who wasn’t, as they say, “all together”. Far younger and more spry than the usual derelicts who mill about on 8th Avenue, I kept at an arm’s length as he made eye contact with me.

“Yo man, I need two dollars and sixteen cents” he announced with the trademark specificity of so many of the beggars and con men that practice their trade around Penn Station.”I don’t have any money” I replied.

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a Discman that had to have dated to the mid-1990s.

“But my motherfucking batteries is dead, man! I need to listen to my jams!”

“I’m very sorry, buddy,” I reiterated, “but I don’t have anything for you”.

At this point his glare went from crazed to menacing. His eyes assumed a steely clarity that was unsettling, to say the least.

“Is that how we going to play it, motherfucker?” he snapped, the inflection of his voice rising and becoming noticeably louder. “I just got out of motherfucking Rikers, asshole,” he continued. “Do you know what that means? Do you know what that makes me, motherfucker?!”

I took a step back and squared my shoulders, keeping my arms to my sides but otherwise assuming a fighter’s stance. I fully expected him to attack me at that point. Although his dress made him appear comical at first glance, he was nonetheless powerfully built. Just when I thought he was about to swing, however, he began gesticulating wildly to himself.

“It makes me a faggot!”

I looked at him with an expression of utter bewilderment.

“I got fucked in the ass every day there, and now I’m a faggot! Yeah! I’m a faggot! I’m a faggot! Whoooooo!”

He repeated the phrase over and over again, each repetition louder and more enthusiastic than the one that preceded it. As quickly as he had approached, he turned around and began walking away from me into 8th Avenue’s perpetual tangle of traffic. He raised his arms triumphantly above his head and continued to repeat his new mantra:

“I’m a faggot! I’m a faggot! I’m a faggot! Yeah!”

Halfway across the street, he approached an off-duty yellow cab that was sitting in traffic. With one abrupt motion, he grabbed the handle to the driver’s door and swung it open violently. The terrified driver cowered in fear as our hero leaned in and screamed into his ear:

“I’M A FAGGOT!”

Without another word, he calmly walked away from the cab with his arms still raised skyward, sauntering down 30th Street like the heavyweight champion of the world.

You May Also Be Interested In…
* New York Diary: Part IV
* Keep The Meter Running
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New York Diary: Part V.

New York Diary: Part V.
I Love New York!

Last Day in New York.
The last day in The New Yorker Hotel.

Y’know,
I think if I was to add up all the time I spent in the hotel during the last 5 days it would come to less than 12 hours.
But anyways, there’s no time for all of that.
We gotta get our bags packed and get the hell out of here!

The hotel arranged to keep our bags for us until it was time to go to the airport later.
That gave us most of the day to say our goodbyes to Manhattan.

What to do today?
Maybe I’ll just let some of the photos do the talking.

Y’know,
New York Public Libray is beautiful, it really is but it’s hard to walk around there and not think of yourself as a Ghostbuster.

I didn’t write down much stuff on my last day in New York.
I was too busy trying to make the day last as long as possible.

There are loads of things I haven’t even mentioned in these diary posts but that’s only because they deserve whole posts of their own in the future.

New York is the greatest place on Earth as far as I’m concerned.
There’s always something to do and placs to explore.
You can buy salad at 3am in the morning (That really impressed me) and get drunk at 5am if that’s your thing.
You can walk for 10 minutes and hear 600 different accents,
You can walk down a modern steel city block and suddenly stumble upon an ancient church.
I feel like I fit there and as Sinatra says,
“It’s my kind of town”.

I really miss New York but what the hell,
I’ll get back over there.

…Might even buy a one way ticket next time 🙂

New York Diary: Part IV.

New York Diary: Part IV.
Drunk And Painted Green.

Going by what EVERYBODY told me last night, there is no way I’m avoiding St. Patrick’s Day in Manhattan.
I’m in the wrong place too.
5th Avenue – The very heart of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade!
Nah.
No way am I avoiding this.

Today, the bars opened at 5am and everyone is Irish.
They’re more Irish than the Irish today!
– Except they’re not.
Their Great Grandparents were maybe from Ireland but eating a bowl of Lucky Charms every morning is about as Irish as most of the folks I meet today are gonna get.

The parade is brilliant and everyone is drunk and painted green but 5 hours of standing in a big fuck off crowd like this?
Nah.
It’s jam packed here and after 2 hours I decide to get the hell out of there.
I head up to Central Park West and keep walking.
I’ve got designs on seeing Harlem but I get nowhere near it.
I walked up and took a left at The Dakota building where John Lennon got shot in 1980.

Across 72nd and down through Columbus Circle.
It’s nice and quiet up here and I’m wishing my Family were up this part of town with me when a funny thing happens.

Who do I spy WAAAAAYYYYY across the street at the foot of Central Park but my Family!
Crazy when you think I never told them where I was gonna be and I left them blocks and blocks away on the east side of the city on one of busiest days of the year.
That’s New York for ya!

My Sister told me of her trauma of meeting Elmo and how he wanted “Dollars!” before he allowed a photo!
Ha Ha!

The St. Patrick’s Celebrations continued all day and all night.
I was impressed by New Yorkers and their ability to drink.
…But only just.
I guess it’s easy with the teeny weeny glasses they call ‘pints’ 🙂

Today, the entire city took a day off.
Even The Empire State Building got in on the action!

Even the usually black Metlife Building was green that day and I still can’t work out how that was done.

Don’t try and tll me it’s always green because it’s not!

That night we walked around Times Square which is probably the most terrifying part of New York for me.
Neon everywhere and mobbed with tourists and rip-off shops.
Pretty to look at though 🙂

At 11pm that night I did something which I don’t think I’ll forget any time soon.
I walked around Midtown Manhattan listening to Bernard Hermann’s soundtrack for “Taxi Driver”.
That was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had!

When I was sure all the drunks would be drunk enough to get their asses home, I hit a few bars.

Frat Party’s.
I can’t stand these meathead frat guys.
I saw 5 of them all high-fiving each other outside an Irish Bar beside Madison Square Garden and when I walked past them into the bar they shouted “Hey man! Do you like Football!?” but I just glowered at them because I still had the seedy murderous music of “Taxi Driver” in my ears.

It was a pretty good bar to be fair.
It was called Molly Wee’s and you should stop by if you’re ever passing.
Abbey tried to teach me to dance that night.
Big mistake there.
I’m the World’s worst dancer!
I’ve danced girls full on into walls before and had to run away!
One of these days I’m gonna learn to dance.

I remember those frat guys coming into the bar later and shouting:
“CAN I GET A HEEEEELLLLLL YEAH!?” and straight away I heard a Glasgow voice answer:
– “Naw”.
It could’ve been the whisky I was drinking but it was the funniest thing I’d seen all night.

My 4th night ended at 4ish across the street listening to the whole bar sing along to Bob Dylan’s “Subtrerranean Homesick Blues”

I loved that and already I was dreading the homesickness I knew I was gonna be feeling for New York in a couple of days time.

New York Diary: Part III.

New York Diary: Part III.
Impossible In New York.

I didn’t exactly get up with a ping this morning on account of the 5 glasses of Wild Turkey I sank last night but I’m really excited about today.

Today we’re gonna take a cab over to Brooklyn, get some pizza at Grimmaldi’s, have some ice cream and walk back across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Taxi’s in New York.
What can I say about taxi’s in New York?

You pretty much risk your life every time you get into a cab here.
Today was no exception.
This guy didn’t know how to get to Brooklyn and we had to direct him a little bit.
But for a guy who didn’t know where he was going, he drove like a suicide!
With his palm constantly slamming the horn, we got to Brooklyn in lightning time!
Heh heh.

Grimmaldi’s Pizzeria is almost under the bridge.
It has one of those “Best Pizza In New York!” signs outside.
Every pizza joint in New York has a sign like that but with Grimmald’s, It might just be true!

I wish I could eat pizza from Grimmaldi’s for the rest of my life.

I hardly ever eat ice cream.
I like it but I don’t have a sweet tooth.
However…When in New York!

The Brooklyn Bridge is so impressive.

It’s a great experience to walk across it and it had a great effect on me.

I thought of the people who built it and the work they put into it.
Looking across the Manhattan skyline in perfect sunshine is one of the best things anyone can do!
You realise that, although Manhattan Island is only 14 miles long and 2 miles wide, it really is the biggest place on Earth.
Understand?

After crossing the bridge we found ourselves at the site where the Trade Centre buildings came down.
The new structure is looking good and so far as I know, They’re gonna make it even taller this time.
Know why?
Because New York has balls.

I had a lot of time to sit and look at that building because my Sister and Mother disappeared into a store for (Wait for it) 5 HOURS!
Is this a record Ladies?

I didn’t mind because that was 5 hours of wandering time for me which took in St. Paul’s Cathedral, a graveyard, some deli’s and the big rusted iron cross salvaged from The Twin Towers.
Seeing a thing like that really hits you like a sledgehammer in the face.

Night fell and after more walking we went back to the hotel afterwards and took in some ridiculously funny TV.

If we had shows back home with titles like “Police Women Take Down” and “Hoarders: Buried Alive” I don’t think I’d ever leave the house ever again!

I maybe should’ve stayed in the hotel because tonight something scary happened to me.
Later on, as ever, I’m out on the street looking around and taking photos.
I spent some time in a comic book store below The Empire State building and drank some coffee in a couple of deli’s.
I’m walking along when I feel the need to pee.
Bad.

There are bars I could go to but I need to pee RIGHT NOW!
I spy TGI Friday’s on 34th Street.
I run in through the side doors and up the stairwell.
Apart from the stairwell I’m on, this building is deserted and all the doors to the bars are locked.
I look through the glass doors on every level of the building and see upside-down stools on top of dark, closed bar tops.
I run back down the stairs to leave through the doors I came in but they’re locked.
LOCKED!
I think it’s about 11.30pm now.

Typical.
I go to New York and end up locked inside of a building.
My first thought was to pee in the stairwell bin but I didn’t really want to do that.
What to do?
Easy.
I’ll just set the buildings alarms off and wait ‘till the NYPD show up!
I didn’t fancy doing that either.
I ran up the building again feeling hopeless when I saw a figure in the dark bar.
I rattled the locked door between us and said:
“HEY! I’m locked in here man!”
The guy said:
“Buddy we’re closed!”
Me: “Yeah I know that but I’m locked in this stairwell!”
Him: “You ain’t. Only one of the doors you came through is locked. The other one is open”

So I was back out on the street again feeling like an absolute idiot.
Ha Ha!
But there was no time to laugh at my own foolishness – I had to pee!
I raced up to The Tempest Bar and things were okay again.

Outside The Tempest that night, I met Kevin.
Kevin is about 46, homeless and tells stories for money.
He’d rob you blind if you turned your back but that aside, good conversation.

I also met Abbie and Brian that night.
– Pretty good people.

Abbey travels around and writes a great travel blog which you can find right HERE.
Take a look because she knows what she’s talking about.

I’m trying to think of tomorrow because tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day and coming from Glasgow where every weekend is like St. Patrick’s Day, I’m trying to avoid it all as best as I can.

Apparently,
That’s impossible in New York.

New York Diary: Part II.

New York Diary: Part II.
When In New York.

I feel pretty good today even although I only had about 4 hours sleep.
We all did a power of walking yesterday and today, like tomorrow, will be the same.

New York street traffic is pretty ruthless.
Everyone knows exactly where they’re going and they are in a hurry.
That suits me fine.
Like I said, this is my 3rd time in this City and I know my way around better than I know my way around back home in Glasgow!
Matter of fact, we’d constantly get asked for directions and we got pretty good at pointing people the right way.

Ever stood at the foot of the Rockefeller building and looked up?
You can’t see the top of it for clouds sometimes!

It’s dizzying and for some reason unknown to me, we all thought that it would be a pretty good idea to pay 80 bucks and go up onto the roof and look at the city.
I don’t usually have much of a problem with great heights but tonight I do.
Hayley does too.

We’re up on the roof of the Rockefeller building.
They call it “Top Of The Rock” and frankly, It’s fucking terrifying!
At the top of The Empire State building, there is a big wall and big iron railings on account of all the folk who used to go up there and jump off it.
These days, you feel pretty safe and secure up on top of the Empire State.
I wish I was up there right now because the Rockefeller is a sheer drop only surrounded by one thin looking layer of clear plexi-glass.

It’s real windy up here tonight and Hayley and I feel the building sway.
Its better that a building this tall sways a lot rather than not at all.
But still.

New York twinkles from up there and it feels good to be young and alive etc…

All the same, I’m glad when we finally get back down to the street.
Fuck doing that again anytime soon.

My folks and Hayley planned their trip out.
They had designs on shopping like mad people possessed and that is what they did.
They shopped like Paris Hilton on cocaine!
I can’t stand shopping.
I hate it.
I don’t care about what’s in or out.
I don’t care whether it’s designer or vintage.
If it’s black and I need it then I’ll buy it but even then, I don’t care.
I only buy clothes and shoes when my existing ones fall apart so I left them to it and off I went again.

I hadn’t even thought about what I was gonna do in this city.
I don’t tend to plan anything out because I like not knowing what will happen every day.

I pounded the streets again tonight and ended up outside of Madison Square Garden.
Elton John’s playing tonight and you can’t move for people trying to sell fake tickets at 20 bucks apiece.

Over I go to Hell’s Kitchen which is maybe my favourite part of the city.
It’s laid back. Not as laid back as the village but just enough.
The village doesn’t really have the edge that Hell’s Kitchen has.
I wrote down a list of locations where notorious mobsters were murdered but I’ve forgotten to bring it.
You can meet a lot of interesting characters walking around Hell’s Kitchen if you’re not careful.
In 2002 I quickly learned that if someone comes up to you and starts telling jokes then walk away because he’s gonna demand money when he’s done.

If someone comes out of the blue at you and says “Sir, do you mind if I ask you a question?” then walk away because that question won’t be a question.
It’ll be “Gimmie money!”
If you get involved in any sort of conversation with anyone in any street then be prepared to be asked for money.
These days, I find myself in-step with most other New Yorkers;
On my way to somewhere in a hurry with no time for anyone who tries to stop me.
Walk fast enough and you probably won’t even be approached but stop for a second to light a cigarette or tie your shoelace and you can forget it because there will be 3 people standing around you wanting a piece of you.

Tonight was the night I got lucky and found The Tempest.
The Tempest is a bar on 8th Avenue.
It’s right beside this big Post Office:

It’s not hard to find nice bars in New York but it can be really difficult to find the kind of dives that I like.
The Tempest doesn’t look like my kind of place from the outside.

You could easily mistake it for some touristy Irish themed bar which inside, it definitely ain’t.
It’s a dark, Rock & Roll dive.

I ended up getting pretty friendly with quite a few people in The Tempest.
The sound of Dr. John singing “Such A Night” led me to this bar.
In here you can hear The Flaming Lips, Radiohead, Little Richard, Bob Dylan, Black Sabbath & Sinatra records and like I say, it’s pitch black inside.

I ended up going to The Tempest when I couldn’t sleep at night because it stayed open to 4am and when it closed I’d get invited to hang around inside which was great.
After hours, Chris the bartender and Bob the bouncer would tell me where to go to find the best live music in the city.
They’d also point out characters on the street and tell me which ones were okay and which ones I should avoid.
In fact,
Chris and Bob pretty much clued me right in about New York and it made my stay a helluva lot more interesting.

For instance,
I got introduced to a guy who managed a recording studio across the street and one night at 4am about 5 of us all got invited over for a couple of drinks.
I sat down and played a black Baby Grand piano!
I’m not a very good piano player at all but who cares.
When in New York!

Too much wild turkey later and I went back to the hotel in the drizzling rain for my 3 to 4 hours sleep.
That particular part of town was deserted on that night and I decided there and then that I was gonna do this again on my last night with the soundtrack to “Taxi Driver” in my ears.
I knew it was a good idea to put it on my mp3 player!