I park my car somewhere on 9th Street in what no doubt has to be Chinatown. At first, I think about re-parking in a “safer” neighborhood, but then I take a look at my Honda and realize that the dented hood and missing emblem caused from my highway accident a couple of weeks ago make my car look right at home where it is. So I leave it where it’s parked and feel additional security by the presence of the three different cop cars up and down the street.
I head towards Broadway Street to the bar where my friend is having a birthday party. I am a bit early, and no one is there yet, so I venture off into the neighborhood to grab a bite to eat and wait for my roomie to arrive. I figure I’ll just end up being late to the party. It’s been awhile since I’ve eaten by myself, and quite frankly, I really should do it more often.
On my way to the bar, I had passed by a couple of promising restaurants; I head back to the intersection of 9th and Washington to check out my options. On one side of the street is a fancier restaurant that serves New American (whatever that is), and on the other is a casual restaurant (but still nice) serving pizza and pasta. I decide to Yelp the fancier restaurant on my BB and surprisingly find that the reviews are decent. My rule of thumb is that the first five or so reviews have to be somewhat good for me to commit.
I decide to leave the casual restaurant and head over to the fancier restaurant. Levende East.
I’d like to say I meander through the crowd over to the bar, where I end up sitting. But in reality, the restaurant is pretty desolate despite the good sound waves spilling over onto the street. I feel the music out – the type of music that you imagine yourself head nodding or foot swaying to. (And yes, I just ended that sentence with a preposition).
Relaxing lounge music. Chill people at the bar. Honest waitress who recommends the heirloom tomato salad and the lamb sliders. Nice to just unwind from what has been fast-forward momentum towards I have no idea. The last time I went to a nice restaurant by myself was back in Tel Aviv… back in January… back when… [ end of tangent ]
I head towards Broadway Street to the bar where my friend is having a birthday party. I am a bit early, and no one is there yet, so I venture off into the neighborhood to grab a bite to eat and wait for my roomie to arrive. I figure I’ll just end up being late to the party. It’s been awhile since I’ve eaten by myself, and quite frankly, I really should do it more often.
On my way to the bar, I had passed by a couple of promising restaurants; I head back to the intersection of 9th and Washington to check out my options. On one side of the street is a fancier restaurant that serves New American (whatever that is), and on the other is a casual restaurant (but still nice) serving pizza and pasta. I decide to Yelp the fancier restaurant on my BB and surprisingly find that the reviews are decent. My rule of thumb is that the first five or so reviews have to be somewhat good for me to commit.
I decide to leave the casual restaurant and head over to the fancier restaurant. Levende East.
I’d like to say I meander through the crowd over to the bar, where I end up sitting. But in reality, the restaurant is pretty desolate despite the good sound waves spilling over onto the street. I feel the music out – the type of music that you imagine yourself head nodding or foot swaying to. (And yes, I just ended that sentence with a preposition).
Relaxing lounge music. Chill people at the bar. Honest waitress who recommends the heirloom tomato salad and the lamb sliders. Nice to just unwind from what has been fast-forward momentum towards I have no idea. The last time I went to a nice restaurant by myself was back in Tel Aviv… back in January… back when… [ end of tangent ]
I like to keep busy and entertained because it helps with passing time and enjoying my 20s life. But I was telling one of my roomies the other night that I haven’t really had much alone time these past few months. So tonight. Is.a.good.night. Not only am I doing my own thing, but I will be able to do what I’ve been doing all summer… committing to not missing out.
Happy birthday to my crafty friend!
‘Til next time, East Bay. And next time, I will have my credit card with me.
(Sadly, I left my credit card in the other wallet, so my roomie is coming right now to cover for my meal as I stare at the $18 in cash in front of me with an embarrassed heh heh.)
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