A Moving Tale Of Sorts
I'm moved!
A million thanks to Andy Christie for his last-minute assistance. Merely thinking about the time he spent lashing and unlashing two of my bookshelves to the roof of his car fills me with humility. I have just drawn a picture of him in my dictionary so that he'll always be right next to the word "mensch."
The good news is that there's a laundromat open late less than a block from my place. So soon I'll smell fresh again! I'll also probably wind up throwing even more things out: the place seems smaller than I remembered. I'll have a better idea when the boxes are all folded up and the contents appropriately shelved.
The bad news is that, once I moved in, I wanted to celebrate by going to a nearby bar and popping in to declare, "I'm here!" with a sacramental shot of whiskey. But there are NO BARS within a few blocks of where I live. (Which is really surprising, considering how many 24-hour check cashing places there are in the same zip code. Can the two ever be that far apart?)
The good news is that the nearest bar worth noting is one that I've actually heard of: Coogan's, at 168th and Broadway, listed in the book New York City's Best Dive Bars. I believe it's the furthest-north entry in the book. Certainly it's not going to be an impulse stop: I rarely feel a sudden urge to walk eleven blocks uphill.
The other good news is that I'm a mere stone's underhanded toss away from El Caporal, which is either one of the top five best fried chicken stands in New York (if you ask The New York Times) or one of the top ten in the US (if you ask USA Today). It's not only really good (they fry it in mojo spices!), but incredibly cheap: 3 pieces costs $3.25---and it comes with fries, just in case your arteries are still working.
More details later. For now I just wanted to orient you all and let you know that the move worked.
A million thanks to Andy Christie for his last-minute assistance. Merely thinking about the time he spent lashing and unlashing two of my bookshelves to the roof of his car fills me with humility. I have just drawn a picture of him in my dictionary so that he'll always be right next to the word "mensch."
The good news is that there's a laundromat open late less than a block from my place. So soon I'll smell fresh again! I'll also probably wind up throwing even more things out: the place seems smaller than I remembered. I'll have a better idea when the boxes are all folded up and the contents appropriately shelved.
The bad news is that, once I moved in, I wanted to celebrate by going to a nearby bar and popping in to declare, "I'm here!" with a sacramental shot of whiskey. But there are NO BARS within a few blocks of where I live. (Which is really surprising, considering how many 24-hour check cashing places there are in the same zip code. Can the two ever be that far apart?)
The good news is that the nearest bar worth noting is one that I've actually heard of: Coogan's, at 168th and Broadway, listed in the book New York City's Best Dive Bars. I believe it's the furthest-north entry in the book. Certainly it's not going to be an impulse stop: I rarely feel a sudden urge to walk eleven blocks uphill.
The other good news is that I'm a mere stone's underhanded toss away from El Caporal, which is either one of the top five best fried chicken stands in New York (if you ask The New York Times) or one of the top ten in the US (if you ask USA Today). It's not only really good (they fry it in mojo spices!), but incredibly cheap: 3 pieces costs $3.25---and it comes with fries, just in case your arteries are still working.
More details later. For now I just wanted to orient you all and let you know that the move worked.
Labels: Dave Update
posted by Cowboy Dave Dickerson | 11:01 AM
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