I left Dahlia’s going-away party last night, and taxied up from Alphabet City to Midtown to meet a date. We had planned to head to Saka Gura, a great sake bar and restaurant that’s a favorite amongst the Japanese expat set. As my date hadn’t been before, and as it’s a bit hard to find (being placed in the basement of a nondescript office tower), I suggested we meet on the corner of 43rd and 3rd.
I came up 1st Avenue, and so was on the east side of the street; my date, having subwayed into Grand Central, was on the west. I could see her, thirty feet away. But, in between, there were police barriers, and dozens of uniformed cops.
Apparently, some RNC-related VIP would be hurtling up 3rd in motorcade, and while there were no cars up or down the street as far as the eye could see, we weren’t allowed to cross. Not to worry, though, the police assured me; they wouldn’t be blocking the intersection long – certainly not more than an hour and a half.
So, in the end, we scrapped the Saka Gura plan, and both cabbed down in parallel (along 2nd and Lex, respectively) to Union Square, where we were able to cross the park and meet in between.
As we headed off to nearby Underbar, my date was furious. “It was just politics before,” she said. “But now Bush has made this personal. Nobody gets between me and a drink.”