But I didn't go back to the monastery. Instead, the drunk guy, we'll call him Joe, asked me to come over to his place to share a couple beers and listen to some music. I thought: "I don't know this guy, but . . . what the hell?"
This guy, with his beat up Aretha and Johnny Cash records, lives in a million dollar town house. He owns four stories on the Upper West Side. I saw him wearing a t-shirt and shorts and slapping around some vinyl records, how was I to know that he was so wealthy? Well, as it turns out, he is not wealthy. And no, we didn't break into the place. It is his parents' place.
The man is a divorcee and lives in his parent's house, though he is leasing it from them. So I sat in a spacious living room, sipped on a Rolling Rock and listened to a variety of music.
This is an anticlimactic ending to the previous blog, but it all transpired after spending a mere 10 bucks on a Long Island in a no-name bar on a week night in the city after coming down from my Fortress of Solitude.
Viva La Vie Boheme! I guess I don't have to be a monk to be frugal. The city offers many interesting alternatives to what most envision as a typical night on the town -- and they're virtually free.