Yesterday, I got a "Get Out of Jail Suburbs Free" card. I ditched the family and roamed around the West Village with some friends. We looked in some stores and gazed in the windows of some stately brownstone apartments in the section of the city where the streets curve and have names instead of numbers. We sighed and wistfully said, "when we win the lottery…"
I made my friends walk for ages, because I wanted to check out the Spotted Pig that was so lovingly described in the New Yorker. But we were hungry and tired and couldn't walk another block, so we settled for the White Horse tavern instead. The White Horse is a dive, but you gotta love the place just because that's where Dylan Thomas drank himself to death.
Wendy just sent me a link to a fabulous blog, Scouting New York, which has tons of pictures of hidden corners of the city as found by a movie location scout. It's eye candy to amuse me in the grey burbs. Check out the abandoned castle on 5 Beekman.