Adventuring into the hinterlands of brooklyn yesterday.

 Let me just cut to the chase because I know you're on the edge of your seat: I survived. 

It's not like I have a reputation for getting lost in Brooklyn for no reason. I've taken to Brooklyn like a duck to merchant banking. I've been lost for hours trying to find subways and speakeasies. It's harder than it looks on a map, trust me all you cocky bastards. 

Luckily, there's friends and Uber drivers and yesterday I had both.

First, Renya "picked me up" out front our apartment in a grand scheme to walk to the Osprey in Brooklyn where we were meeting Kate for a late lunch. Or "brunch" as this is called in New York City. Our hope was to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge and orchestrate a unique and charming selfie like these people did:

Millions of Instagrams 
on the brooklyn bridge

Ha ha, no. I would never take a selfie on the Brooklyn Bridge with one exception: If I were being held hostage and had the opportunity to outwit my captors by pretending to take an innocent picture of myself and upload it to social media. Then the police could study the photo and assess my location, you see. Very clever. 

Maybe all these Instagrammers were being held hostage. 

Renya and I did not make it to the Brooklyn Bridge. We ran out of time in the middle of Chi-Town so Renya called an Uber and we weren't all that late. Late enough to feel guilty about it, but not late enough for anyone to file a missing persons report.

It was lovely.

After brunch, I was handed off to my next Brooklyn escort. I showed Kate where I was going for our rendezvous with Jamie and Scott. She nodded sagely and said I could ride with her halfway home. We got in Uber #2 and at a certain point, the driver stopped at a red light. Kate said, "Ok, this is where you get out."

She told me to walk straight on this street. Don't make any turns, she said. Just walk straight and you will see the bar.

Even I could handle that.

Jamie and Scott were already there and Tom showed up soon after. It was probably a good call that Jamie and Scott decided to sit out front until we arrived, because the place was one of those places with no sign and only a shabby front door and it's highly likely I would not have found it without somebody I knew wildly gesticulating at me, "over here!!!"

We had drinks named after RBG. It was pretty great, really. But then it was 6 and Cooper the dog is fed at 6 so Jamie and Scott hustled us back to their place. We arrived 9 minutes late and Cooper was pissed. He ate the food, don't get me wrong but he definitely had an irritated glint in his adorable fluffy little eyes.

Turns out, Jamie and Scott got a firepit. This is an exceptional Covid purchase. I mean really the bees knees: 

Everybody needs a firepit.

We sat outside on their deck and firepitted with a couple of Scott's unparalleled Old Fashioneds. After a few nice hours, we waved goodbye.

This was the point we were on our own. We had to make it back home, alone and all by ourselves.

First, we walked up Vanderbilt Avenue:

OMG totes adorbs. It was almost 9pm but everybody was still out on the street picnicking and eating at the restaurants and kids on scooters zipping around. 

Anyway, it was a day full of adventure in Brooklyn. We saw zero lawlessness or abandoned blocks, btw. So if any politician goes blathering on about that, you can safely assume they're lying like a rug. Unless you consider dining under twinkly lights pure anarchy, of course.