Club O'Flannery

We woke up today to an unusual amount of noise this morning. Our street is very loud all the time, so the peak in activity (especially the bump needed to wake us up) was worth getting up for. There was a street fair in Chelsea that blocked off 9 blocks so everyone was trying to use our street. This, of course, resulted in an ungodly bumper to bumper traffic jam. I've seen a lot of slow traffic, but this was my first time experiencing total deadlock. The amount of forward motion seems directly proportional to the frequency of honking. The honking was accompanied by a siren directly beneath our window as an ambulance was trying to make it's way through. I'd say it probably took the ambulance 20 minutes to make it a full block with the siren blaring at full volume for everyone's enjoyment.

There's always a siren going and it's like nothing you've ever heard. I swear that each emergency vehicle has a full mixing board in the front as each driver seems to have their own distinct style and pick different parts of the siren spectrum to repeat, mix, or let run. Really, an amazing and underrated part of creativity that's unique to New York.

We walked the street festival, which is much like every other street festival in the country, which means largely uninteresting. We hopped into a restaurant along the way and enjoyed the kitschy cowboy outfits and pumping techno with our breakfast. Eating out all the time is hard on the gut, and the pocketbook. We've moved to two giant meals a day which doesn't ever really leave you feeling good -- either starving or stuffed. Today was no different and we decided to walk off our breakfast by touring the galleries in Chelsea.

Chelsea is home to probably 100 galleries and is the new fine art hotspot as high rents have pushed them out of Soho. We really want to find a cool piece of art to remember our stay here, but quickly realized a street vendor is more likely to have something in our price range (at one place a needlepoint-looking wall hanging was $12,500). The area strives to be very highbrow and the art is very interesting, but takes on more of a museum feel with the gangs of older heavy ladies browsing in their pastel best.

I haven't mentioned the celebrity sightings, simply because it would honestly fill each day's entry and I'm trying not to be wowed by it, but we had one today of note. As were heading home from the galleries on a remote street I saw a large man approach off the street and at the same time heard Laurie gasp excitedly and grab my arm. James Gandolfini immediately paused his step ready to combat the overanxious fan, but Laurie continued "Oh look, a puppy!" as she stared off down the street. With a smirk and again confident step Mr. Gandolfini continued past.

We decided to attend another show at the Tribeca Film Festival in the afternoon. Going the previous day was really relaxing to me and put quite a bit of wind back in my sails with regard to enjoying the city. There was quite a bit more activity here today as it was the weekend and the festival is now in full swing. Based on Laurie's earlier puppy excitement, we decided to go to a Japanese movie about the life of a golden retriever that was a trained companion for an elderly man. Not realizing the shared love for dogs in the city, we underestimated the attendance and it was sold out by the time we got there. Instead, we waited in a standby line for a film about two gymnasts in North Korea. It is one of only two western films ever made in modern North Korea and aimed to simply provide a glimpse into life there. Life's worries are much different than here, but people wind up being much the same. The film wasn't political or preachy at all, but did point out the extent in which Kim Jong is regarded and I found interesting parallels in how their institutions teach patriotism, self-reliant pride, and general distrust of other cultures much in the same way as ours. Anyways, it provided plenty of fodder for discussion in our 45 minute walk home.

We found a great soul food place as we neared home. We originally we going to go to a new French restaurant, but a quick glance at the menu reminded me of my growing acknowledgement of disliking French food. I don't know enough about the different French styles of cooking, but I like the sauce-based and casual foods much more than the elaborate concoctions that seem to rule here. Soul food was the perfect choice to end a cool and foggy day.

We were determined to go out dancing so decided to take a nap after dinner in order to try to make it out at a reasonably late time. Things don't pick up here until 1 am or so and we've been out on the early side of things (when it's not much fun) way too many times.

In Time Out a few weeks ago we read about these reggae battles between different groups and thought we'd found a opportunity to check this out. It was down in the East Village and the return of a total downpour complicated our plan. Undeterred, we set out and ran to the subway getting completely soaked in half a block dispite an umbrella and breakneck speed. We found the place, a tiny little hole-in-the-wall with barely enough space for a pool table and lots of goth and punk kids. The punk resurgance is going full-steam around here and the crazy outfits remind me of bad 80's movies which always brings me a chuckle. The punk kids are also very difficult to tell from the Aryan skinheads (which I don't have a particular affinity for), so my patience for this scene quickly left as did we.

Up and over a few blocks was our next destination, which was streaming with people and was much more pleasing. Laurie got cornered by a Jersey girl needing boyfriend advice which gave me an opportunity to check out the place. Lots of activity and lots of excitement, but not a whole lot of dancing going on. The DJ seemed to have a really hard time keeping things going and as soon as the crowd would start moving he'd blow it and play a lame song. Knowing that our dancing opportunities here were blown (the crowd was fed up too -- literally calls to "Kill the DJ!") and we decided to cut our losses and go home.

It was getting rather late, but we decided to finally check out our neighboring Irish pub that always seems to have an inordinate amount of energy for the tiny little place that it appears. We walked in and were immediately greeted by pumping sounds, a surprisingly large space, and a crowd that had been going strong since, I would guess, they left work the previous Friday afternoon. Laurie made her way to the bathroom and on the way a charming gentleman made a large drunken sweep for her bum, but he was harmless enough as was the rest of the crowd. I felt a little like we walked into the very end of our Halloween party, but it was fun to watch and provided the highpoint of our "big night out".