Singing for One's Supper in Chinatown

Chris and Pat. Only our hands give us away. And they are hidden.

My old (now really old?) boss Christian turned 40 and we had a karaoke night for him at a bar called Winnie's in Chinatown on Bayard St. One of the fun things for me was getting there. I find that New York makes one provincial very quickly. As did, well, every place I lived: you go to the areas where you have a reason ie house, job, dog manicurist and you don't go to the areas where no one has asked you to be. So I got off the subway and got to walk through Chinatown and Little Italy on a warm spring evening amidst the hanging dead ducks, the produce merchants and the tourists on Mulberry St. I felt like I had a movie camera on my head and it was all an "opening shot."

Which it was for an evening of dive bar, red booths, Christmas lights karaoke.

Cara and Sam sing "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart" Too late.

The gang with the cuisine

Ian and Cara. Two of the smartest guys in the room. I think I will have them in my wedding.

I do not sing. Even when I drank. (Okay twice. Once with a mad temptress and once in Wisconsin) But even so I had a ball. It was so great to see my old workmates that it was almost hard to not want to go into the office the next morning with them. Just a great, great night. I felt as if this was a throwback as I seem to go to more 50th birthday parties these days!