Tuesday, April 27, 2010


Three days after the bridge collapses, Meera and I are sitting at the bar of Ono in the Meatpacking District. Meera orders wine and excuses herself for the ladies room. I pull her bar stool in closer (empty bar stools on a Saturday night in Manhattan are a HOT commodity). Because New York doesn’t really support sobriety and teetotalers, I order club soda with lime. It seems to confuse people into thinking I am still on the sauce.

Since I stopped drinking, I experience everything so much more vividly, including my love/hate relationship with the Meatpacking District. The trendy restaurant fare is good, but pricey. And the influx of B&T (bridge and tunnel) people can be maddening. But maybe they are the smart ones who enjoy the city and go home. While we Manhattanites stay and pay incredibly high rates of tax.

“Are you here for the NYU event?” a man asks. “No,” I reply. I can’t explain how, I just KNOW he is Pakistani. “Did you?” I ask. “Yeah, we’re having an event upstairs. I thought you were the organizer.” This is the strangest thing I have heard in some time. If I was the organizer why am I sitting with my back to the door, at the bar, drinking, albeit club soda?

Meera comes back from the loo and sits down, which allows me to return my attention to her. A few minutes pass and the Pakistani guy talks to me again. Meera shrugs and checks her phone. Just as I begin to politely end conversation the Pakistani guy’s South Indian friend appears. “Meet my friend! He is super smart guy, best in our class, great job, total catch,” Pakistani guy says. Super Smarty seems embarrassed but we exchange polite hellos. He is not bad looking, average height, a little stocky. “So are you seeing anyone?” Pakistani guy asks me. Before my brain can formulate a sentence, Meera snaps her phone shut and says, “No, she is not.” I glance at Meera wondering if she has forgotten Reindeer. Because I have not. “Super Smarty is single too,” Pakistani guy says and turns his attention to someone else. Meera returns to her phone. Thus forcing Super Smarty and I to chat.

I learn that Super Smarty was born in India, lives in Jersey, and works in the City. His has one sister she is married and lives in the Gulf (when desis say “the Gulf” we mean Persian, not Mexican). He does most of the talking, and only stops when Pakistani guys interrupts so say “Super Smarty is brilliant.” “He is going to be rich.” “He is going to be a great husband.” Wow, Pakistani guy has the subtly of an Indian Auntie.

When the NYU event begins Pakistani guy and Super Smarty get up to leave. Super Smarty pauses and says, “Can I have your phone number?” Aiy, what is the harm? So I give it to him. Aiy!


Nancy said...

How old is he? Younger men are "moldable". Go for it!

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Nancy ... I am pretty sure he was a smidge younger. Yes, I shd go for it. I think I let age limit me and in all the wrong ways!