So, as New Yorkers, we all have CRAZY NY stories...some are good, and some are bad. The common thread though is that they'd only happen in New York.
Unfortunately, my first two weekly New York moments are bad (although I am going to write about this week before last week since I am so disgusted at the moment).
A few weeks ago, I began hanging out, I guess you could say, at AZA Wine and Tapas. The reason I went initially was not because I love AZA or overpriced food, but because I am friendly with the musicians who play there and planned to do a profile on them. So, I went to see them play at AZA two weeks ago and had an amazing time, including meeting lots of new friends.
When it was announced shortly thereafter that AZA was launching a Sunday brunch, I asked for press access in order to cover brunch. Brunch was ok, nothing special, except for the pleasant company, including AZA Owner, Don Detelj, and other innocent parties whom I will not name.
I returned to AZA tonight because I intended to write more about Thursdays at AZA, the new weekend brunch option and the musicians playing there. Cue horror movie music...
When I arrived, there were no seats at the bar. Having had a very rough day and being in major back pain (I was recently the victim of a violent crime, but that's a whole other story), I moved an empty bar stool to the front of the bar next to the wall, so that I would be in a position to see and photograph the musicians without being in pain.
Minutes later, Mr. Detelj - whom I had already greeted affectionately - came over and asked me why I was sitting there. I explained that I was in pain and needed to sit. He told me that I was welcome to sit in the back (thereby defeating the purpose of being near the musicians and being able to photograph them), but that I could not sit in the front because then people would think I was a hostess, and it would "create expectations."
Not for nothing, Mr. Detelj, but, why don't you have a hostess?!?
That was not the real problem though. I sat at the bar and began speaking to a few patrons, Michael and Bill, who extolled the virtues of the tapas and entrees they were eating and told me how happy they were that the crowd from Elaine's - homeless for the last few months - had found a new place to hang out.
I was sitting to Bill's right, and Michael was sitting to his left, when my blind friend Eric, a talented guitarist and all-around nice guy whom I'd met at AZA two weeks ago, came in. I moved from the seat next to Bill to the seat next to Michael in order to be able to speak to Eric (seated three seats away) who had called me earlier in the day to ask if I was going to go to AZA tonight.
I noticed that two people, Ken and a woman whom I didn't know - the type who's over 40 and think's she's hot, but not - were sitting in the two seats between me and Eric. Acting as most normal people would do (I'm pretty sure), I asked the woman politely if she and Ken would mind moving down a seat, so that Eric and I could sit together...and that's when things went downhill fast, WAAAAAY downhill.
She agreed to move, and Eric came and sat next to me with his cane (he has been fully blind since birth) and his guitar. Over the next few minutes, I noticed the woman - let's call her "No Class" - hemming and hawing and giving me dirty looks, which I didn't understand. She was sitting with her friend; I was sitting with mine, and everything was copacetic, right? Apparently, NOT.
She complained to the bartender that she had been there since 8 pm and no longer had a seat (even though she was sitting at the bar) and, walking by me toward the back of the restaurant, hissed, "Next time you ask someone to switch seats, you should buy them a drink because that was for you and not for him." I was shocked at her audacity. Really? I asked you to move over for a blind man, and you fly into a full-fledged No Class diva rage?!?
But it got even better. She came back to where we were, again crying to the bartender about how she'd been there since 8 pm and had no seat. Let me make three points: 1) if she was really there since 8 pm, she would've been settled into a seat LONG before I arrived over an hour later, 2) she had a seat; she just chose to stand up and not sit in it, and 3) I asked her to move to be polite; she could have said "no" instead of becoming a b&tch from Hell.
As she complained to the bartender, my blind friend - who NEEDED a seat - offered to give up his seat for her. She said no. I then offered to give her my seat, to which she responded, "Yeah, I want YOUR seat." [Cue mental photo of Cruella Deville - do you torture small animals in your spare time, too, No Class?]
I told her that I would've happily bought her a drink, but for the fact that I was recently the victim of a robbery and assault and had no money to drink, thus, was not drinking. No Class responded that "[I had] no right to be in a bar then." As you might imagine, given the outrageousness of the situation, unladylike words were exchanged, and No Class - clearly, a damsel in much distress, said she was going to have Mr. Detelj throw me out. I asked her what her name was because, I told her, I wanted to include her in the story I was writing on AZA. She told me her name was Susan, although moments later Ken told me that her name was Anna. Now we can call her No Class Anna.
Moments later, a triumphant looking Anna came back and sat in the seat I'd been sitting in. She has succeeded in preventing a blind man from sitting with his friend as well as being thoroughly obnoxious to someone who was in pain. The situation was beyond ridiculous.
Mr. Detelj, clearly a fan of No Class Anna's, came and told me that I "need[ed] to leave because I was harassing [his] customers." There was no truth to this allegation, of course, and I attempted to explain to Mr. Detelj what had actually happened. Moreover, Eric is blind, but not deaf. He had "witnessed" the entire incident and corroborated everything I said and also tried to explain to Mr. Detelj what had happened. Despite me recounting an incident where I was clearly in the right, and No Class Anna was acting like a complete lunatic, he refused to listen, saying, "You need to leave. You're causing a scene."
Well, Mr. Detelj and No Class Anna, I hope you're happy. This author won't be going to the mediocre - at best - AZA Wine and Tapas again. I will not be treated that way (no patron should be treated that way), especially when I am there to write a review about your poorly-run establishment.
It is truly a shame that Mr. Detelj bowed to No Class Anna, as this means adios to AZA. The musicians on Thursday night are AMAZING, and they deserve all the credit in the world for their incredible talent and packing the house...I will miss having the opportunity to see them play so close to home, but, dear readers, I am confident that you and I both can find another hangout with better everything else - especially gentlemanly proprietorship - which, obviously, is sorely lacking at AZA - on the UES.
That's this week's New York Moment...bummer.
