November 2, 2011
It’s Tuesday night, the night I go to a bar and see if I can score a swizzle stick with a drink. Mad commenter and quote supplier, ragin’ rr, had a good idea about going to bars that I was originally headed to on my 365 bar crawl last year, but never quite made it there for one reason or the other. He’s even compiling a list for me and I’m going to start hitting some of them soon. Tonight, though, I’m heading to a bar that’s close to work and on my way home. I decided to go to the Blarney Stone on 9th, it’s probably my second favorite Blarney Stone (my favorite can be found somewhere on this post, see if you can find it!) and it’s moments away. You’ll see.
See, here we are already, let’s go in and get a drink or three.
This was the 355th bar that I went to on my bar crawl last year. I was in here about 11 months ago. You can look at pictures of the bar here: Blarney Stone. It hasn’t changed at all, so there's no reason to take more pictures. It’s crowded in here and it’s not a crowd that I would assume would be too happy about a flash going off in their faces. Half of the crowd appears to be grizzled night shift workers from the nearby post office and the other half look like they may be faces from the wanted posters in the same post office, so I’m going to take some mental snap shots and post them below.
Snap: I order up a double gin and tonic and the bartender dutifully brings it to me. There’s no swizzle stick and that’s not much of a shock. He kind of looks like a grizzled version of Flip Wilson. I pay for the drink and throw him a two buck tip and he scoops the cash up and thanks me. It’s crowded in here with heavy drinkers. The bar is an old school dive bar, it’s dark and the walls are dotted with aged pictures of sports stars from years ago. There’s a flat board internet jukebox on the wall near the Buck Hunter game in the back that is really out of sync with the place. House music is blaring out of it and people are shouting over the top of the dance music. There’s a back room with a pool table that no one is using, all the action is up here in the front room.
Snap: I notice that the place has a unique scent of a combination of three year old beer, that grade school Lysol/sand smell that they use when a kid throws up and just a hint of a dung/barnyard scent. I feel a little sick and try not to breath through my nose.
Snap: The drunken guy sitting to my left is slurring into my ear in between gulps from his tumbler of whiskey. I patiently nod my head up and down and don’t bother to tell him I’m deaf in that ear. After a few more drinks from his tumbler he falls silent and falls into a drunken stupor and is just staring down at the bar. I’m guessing he’ll pass out within the half hour.
Snap: A fat black woman with a shaved head drunkenly stumbles into me and asks if I have a cigarette. Her breath smells worse than the bar and I tell her that I don’t have any. She then proceeds to drunkenly ask if I’d like to have a “good time.” I thank her and tell her I that I’m already having a wonderful time and I don’t want to overdo it. She looks puzzled and I tell her I have a heart condition. A frightened look colors her face and she moves to a drunken guy at the end of the bar. They appear to be hitting it off and I’m happy for them.
Snap: I order another double gin and tonic and the bartender tells me his name is Corey. I tell him my name is Marty and we shake hands. Before we can get into any small talk, Corey has to run and throw out a woman who is attacking the ATM machine in the corner. Corey escorts her out the door, comes back to the bar and tells me it can get a little nuts in here some nights.
Snap: The loud, raging music, the yelling and the smell has given me a headache. I drink my drink, leave Corey a tip and gather up my things to leave. On my way out I wink at the good time woman and she smiles and winks back. A nice ending to a somewhat crazy evening in New York City.
Blarney Stone
340 9th Ave (Between 29th and 30th)
212-502-4656
Further reading: Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York, EV Grieve, and Grade “A” Fancy.
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