Jeffrey and I went to Brooklyn a couple of weeks ago, he to see a few concerts (at the quintessential Knitting Factory) and record fairs (hosted by WFMU), and me to laze about and see friends and experience yoga in another city. JJ, her girlfriend Charrow and I met when a scooter crashed outside of our shared apartment building. The three of us shy and/or awkward ones went out to investigate and we managed a conversation with each other. That was our only interaction until I stalked them on MySpace, which made JJ feel comfortable enough to invite me to dinner at their place. We all later confessed to having contingency plans and excuses in place in case dinner was just too awkward. But it wasn’t, and it was, in fact, wonderful, and it turned into dinner and movie nights, parties, book signings, and election-watching soirees. And then, they up and moved to Brooklyn.

I arrived at LaGuardia on Wednesday, October 21, and thanks to JJ’s intricate MTA instructions, Jeffrey and I successfully navigated the bus and subway systems all the way to Park Slope. When we popped up above ground, Charrow was there to meet us with a hug. Jeffrey had a touch (or more) of the flu that day, so he convalesced on their avocado-hued sofa while the three of us caught up. JJ and Charrow cook dinner, which is fancier than the sandwiches that Jeffrey and I are used to, so our first night involved warm food, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and a 9:30 bedtime, which suited all of us just fine.

After 12+ hours of sleep for me and Tamiflu for Jeffrey, Charrow brought us to meet her friend Rebecca (who is also a knitter, an interpreter, and a fat acceptance activist) at the Brooklyn Promenade, then to meet up with JJ, fresh from her chiropractor appointment. We ate Bánh mì, got caffeinated at a coffee shop too hip for a sign, sat in a park wondering how little kids worked, and to quell the toutist in Jeffrey, sat in Central Park people watching. Observations: Women wear uncomfortable shoes, it’s fine to wear brown boots with black pants, and some people don’t know how to row a boat. And then, per Jeffrey (he has good taste), we ate Pinkberry before going to see a performance for NPR’s The Moth, and followed it up by Ray’s Pizza, also per Jeffrey.

On Friday, the four of us traipsed to the Brooklyn Public Library where JJ and I perused Spanish lesson books and ended up with one of Spanish idioms that had hilarious literal translations. For instance, Jeffrey is el niño de mi ojo, and Charrow is JJ’s media naranja. That afternoon, Charrow took me to a free yoga class at Yoga~Yoga, and then to Joe, the marvelous coffee shop where she works, and where I met Ester, Charrow’s BFF who I had only known online. We had a dinner of cheesy lentils, then Jeffrey headed to Williamsburg, which has enough hipsters to surprise him, and JJ, Charrow and I went to Rebecca’s for Settlers of Catan with Ester, too, which ended up being talking and tea, which is always fine by me. We all walked back in the rain, sharing one tiny umbrella, and not minding a bit.

And finally, on Saturday, Jeffrey left early to go the the record fair, and Charrow left even earlier to go to work, leaving JJ, me, and their two cats to read the New York Times in our pajamas until noon. When we finally got dressed, it was to meet Rebecca and Ester at The Farm, which had a tomato, mozzarella, and basil omelet so good that it should be illegal. We meandered back to Rebecca’s to play Settlers of Catan for real, which I lost, but it didn’t matter. Charrow and Jeffrey met up with us again for dinner at Mango. We walked to and from the restaurant in the rain and ended up with the type of soggy jeans that necessitate changing into pajamas immediately. And so, properly attired, I taught JJ yoga and we all watched Gross Pointe Blank, another one of those movies that makes people exclaim, “You’ve never seen that?! You have to see it!”

The next morning, we left the gingko tree and the view and the friends and the cats and the city that I really love. When I was back in Atlanta, I was homesick for a place that was never my home.


Post script: I miss LiveJournal’s HTML and inability to host photos. WordPress’ “easy” way IS NOT EASY.

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