we shot the Exorcist two blocks from here

A baron and a model walk into a bar.

This, my dear friends, is not a joke, but rather my dinner.

I believe we touched on the fact that I am living out my own modern day Great Gatsby, yes? Tonight was no exception. A lovely, lovely friend was in town, and she invited me to a dinner at one of her favorite bars in Columbus Circle, where a friend of hers works. I walked in to find a bar full of characters; eclectic, loud, and confident.




The Actor/Bartender: Charismatic and kind, the social connection of Gabriel's Bar and Restaurant is  a successful actor and now a successful bartender. I didn't get to know him as well as I would have liked because he was busy most of the night, but he knew nearly every person who walked through the doors by name. He had gone to high school with my friend who was visiting, and with each refill he was ready with a witty remark or a joke. "I don't know if you noticed this," he said quietly, refilling my water, "but Elvis Costello just walked in." The adults gasped.
"Who?" I asked. (Don't worry, I've since Googled.)

The Singer: Her hair was red velvet and framed her face as if something was helping it to stand upright. "I was trained classically," she said matter-of-factly, "but..." she pursed her lips, smiling and shaking her head.
"She sang for the 9/11 War Memorial event. Of all the singers in the world..." my friend told me.
Her laugh was as lively as her red feathered phone case and bejeweled handbag.

The Model: Well, to be clear, she's not exactly a model anymore. Now she's an immensely successful financial something in the modeling industry (?) I'm still a little unclear. It's something super cool. Also, a few hours into the night, she became a fortune teller. I'm going to get married and have children once I'm in my thirties, if you were wondering. Twins, but a little girl first. I was also warned "not to get freaky." Do with that one what you will.

The Playwright/Psychologist: He wrote a successful play, the name of which I forget. Now he's a successful psychologist, and from what I gather, quite the ladies man. He told me he was eighty-three. An eighty-three year old studmuffin. I just... that makes me smile.
"See that man? That's the state of New York's attorney general."
"You mean, he just walked in?" I asked. He nodded.
As we watched the man take his table, Dr. Playwright went on to explain to me the large controversy surrounded by the attorney's current job, straightening out the large company Exxon's claims about global warming that they have been showing to their stock holders.

The Baron: He said he'd just flown in from Argentina. I asked him how long he'd been there and he said twenty years. I asked him how long he'd be staying and he said about a month. "Our elections are coming up in two weeks, and the first few elections didn't go at all as we expected. It's not about to be pretty, so I figured I'd leave town for a little while. No matter what happens, they can't blame me!" There was more about the specifics of the Argentinian government that went way over my head until the term 'baron' got thrown around, but you get the gist. He repeated the last phrase of most anything that I said (Kaila: Oh, well, you do what you can... Baron:...You do what you can...) and he pushed up his glasses with his middle finger, which confused me quite a lot at first.

The NYU Graduate: What are the odds? Pretty good, actually. He graduated from Cap 21, which was the old musical theater school in 2009. We had a lovely conversation about good teachers, bad ones, what we loved about Writing the Essay (one of the academic classes that we have to take freshman year), and the ways NYU has changed. He gave me some pretty good advice, actually. He told me to move into the Gramercy dorms next year and to audition for anything I can be seen for, which was absolutely valuable.

The Movie Maker: An unassuming man in his seventies, it took him a while before we really started to make conversation. Quietly brilliant, he asked me about school and my life, and the more excited I got, the more excited he got. He was supportive and kind, and he knew more about the business than he deemed wise to fit into his short and efficient sentences. The thing that stood out the most to me was his lack of excess. Each sentence that he spoke seemed imperative to the conversation. The words coming out of his mouth were in no way self-serving and always added something wonderful to the conversation.
An incomplete list of things he said:
-"We shot the Exorcist two blocks from here."
-"I'm buying the book." (And I don't think he means he's picking up a copy at the nearest Books a Million. I think he actually means owning the rights to every version of the publication ever.)
-"I own two percent of Silence of the Lambs."
-"My good friend Shel Silverstein..."



With this, I'll leave you all to imagine what on earth my night could have possibly been like. I'm still a little bit perplexed myself. If it is of any interest to you, I surprised myself with my ability to chameleon myself into the situation. I'm not sure if I succeeded in quieting down my crazy, or if I was just sitting at a bar with other cartoon people like me. I'd like to think the latter.