Wowzers, Coney Island!

Friday night ended up being one of those wonderful New York nights where you go into it with no expectations and then it ends up being wonderful and crazy and one of a kind and you're reminded of why you love New York. I knew it would be fun, but I headed for dinner with girlfriends in the West Village with just that expectation - that it would be fun. We ate at a spot called Employees' Only, three doors down from Irish's place and wonderful and candlelit and speakeasy-like, with great music that's never so loud that it drowns out your conversation. We know the owners there since Irish goes all the time, so we had a great table and wonderful food and then after they had a free round of drinks waiting for us at the bar. 

I met a French guy named Jerome and spoke French with him a little and he got my number and then I laughed with my girlfriends and then we moved on. We tried the Beatrice Inn and some rat-dog, 98-pounder of a girl with a long black tail for a mane was guarding the door and deemed us unworthy to enter, even though we all looked hot. I think it's because Kristin, who's an actress, brought out some weird Scottish accent when asking if we could go in -- she's older and I don't think she was into the scene, but it meant none of us were permitted to enter - oh well.

Lariss, whom I met in Austin at my birthday party was there (I had invited her after she texted me Thursday and I'm so glad she came!), so then Irish Lariss and i continued to upstairs at Harry's or Henry's or something - one of the Cipriani places (likely soon to be bankrupt if Page Six Magazine is to be believed) and there we met up with Tatiyana, who thinks she's ever-so-cool and probably is (but shouldn't make it so obvious), who introduced us to the owner and made us feel grateful for the opportunity to pay $15 for well vodka. Sort of, anyway.

Then Lariss, Irish and I hopped in a cab to Tenjune, in the meatpacking and danced our asses off with a veritable United Nations of men - Swiss, German, other things I don't remember. The German guy who was hitting on me was really ugly, pale and blond with a big pumpkin head (not my type at all, even minus the pumpkin head), so at 3:30 when we escaped into the night I wasn't sorry. Crossing the street, we ran -- literally almost smacked into -- some Spanish guys, who started chatting us up until Lariss and I had paired off - me with the tall gorgeous floppy-haired collegiate-looking guy and her with the shorter guy who was cute and had long lashes. They took us to a diner down the street that was aptly called The Diner, and we ate pancakes until the place closed down 20 minutes later. The cute floppy-haired guy ate off my plate, and I swooned, even though I couldn't help but think it should have been the other way around. But he paid, so it was fine.

Then we went out into the brightening early morning and the crazy long-lashed guy declared that it was time to go to the beach. We chuckled, but he was serious. He ran across the street and hailed a cab and told us to get in, we're going to the beach. The driver wasn't sure - are you sure? he kept asking us, but at least one of us was sure, so we went to Brighton Beach/Coney Island in the cab. It was 5:30 a.m. and tons of people were there, all of them 70 and over, taking a morning constitutional or swim. Why are you up so early, we asked one Speedoed oldster. Just try sleeping past 5 when you're my age, he replied.