Best Day In A While

The Ohio State win at Michigan was no doubt outstanding two months ago, but old friend Jeff's visit this week simply led to more hours of debauchery, so Friday turned out to be one of the better days I've had since I've been in New York for about 20 months.

I was off work Friday, and he was in town for his own job Wednesday and Thursday, and stuck around to kick it with me and another one of our Ohio boys, Troy, who now lives in Bayonne. Troy and Jeff have actually known each other since they were six years old or something. For those scoring at home, that would mean they've been friends for 32 years. They're old. I'm glad I'm not 38.

But Jeff got up to my crib at about noon, and we got our one respectable endeavor out of the way early. A four-mile run in Central Park preceded a trip to Duane Rade, as Jeff, quite the basketball fan, would refer to it the rest of the day.

Snacks and beers in hand, we got back to my place at about 2 p.m. and awaited Troy's arrival. It was unseasonably warm for mid-January, so a visit to my roof was the next move once Troy got here. Jeff made up a new game once we saw an empty beer bottle standing about 10 yards away from us. Beer-bottle golf requires rolling other empty bottles toward the one standing, trying to knock it over. After several rounds, I learned that a roll is better than a toss when mine shattered into many, many pieces.

Jeff and Troy are some down-home, low-maintenace Ohio boys, which is why I wasn't surprised that our first stop at Mustang lasted less than 60 seconds. I wasn't disappointed to leave; I think we were just excited to see some atmosphere so we ducked in momentarily.

So it's about 6 p.m., and we walked a couple blocks down busy 2nd Avenue. Jack Russell's seemed attractive, what with its available seats at the bar in front of large color television sats.

Here's a testament to how cool we three city slickers were: as I talked on my phone to Jason in Cincinnati, Jeff was punching up Barry in San Francisco on his. Even cooler? When we passed the phones around so everyone could talk to everyone.

And because we're sports dorks, we had to settle some sort of trivia dispute, so who better to harass on his Friday evening at home than Cincinnati Reds beat writer John Fay?

After Jack Russell's, we rolled back to my apartment for a minute so Jeff could put on a scarf before we ventured downtown. He seems to favor what he now calls the Manhattan Loop.

We took the train to Union Square and stopped in The Coffee Shop, typically a trendy spot for New York pretties, but again, we were back outside less than a minute later.

We walked two blocks to some other bar for one, then down to Taj Mahal for some excellent Indian food. I never know if that neighborhood is considered Lower East Side or the East Village. It's on 6th Street b/w 1st and 2nd avenues. Anyway, if Bashir isn't outside to greet you when you arrive, at least tell your server he sent you. He was outstanding.

After that, we took the train uptown to P.J. Clarke's, which became a favorite bar in the fall, but I've since learned it used to be a hot spot for mobsters back in the day, and it definitely has that feel.

Two beers later, we cabbed it back to my place, grabbed a slice of pizza, picked up some more beer, had one or two, then figured at 1:30 a.m. it would only make sense to head down to Trinity Pub for one last drink.

Many drinks and way more laughs definitely made Friday the best day I've had in a while. And it was still worth it the next morning when I woke up to what smelled like a small apartment where three dudes crashed after a day full of beer and pizza.