The Wait Is Worth It
I am STILL talking to strangers.
I returned to my apartment after work on Thursday only to run back out the door within minutes. I had stayed too long at a work happy hour, once again, and risked running late to my 7:30 plans with Valerie. At my apartment, I had enough time to put on deodorant, brush my teeth, and grab the umbrella that I’m just asking to lose. (For context, in the last month I’ve left this umbrella somewhere 3 separate times and have returned to each location days later to retrieve it. I will not buy a new one.) About 5 minutes after I’d left my apartment, I’d realized I had chosen the wrong shoes, but it was too late to turn back. My black loafers were slowly filling with water at every sidewalk corner’s puddle, but I wanted to make sure I could put our name down at the restaurant before it became Impossible.
Valerie and I had agreed to meet at Ha’s Snack Bar at 7:30 PM, but I have a theory that arriving to any walk-in situation (bar, diner, restaurant, bakery, etc) at a certain 30-minute interval time hinders your chances of getting a good seat. Think about how many other people probably agreed to meet there at 7:30! I arrived at 7:22. Upon asking the hostess how long the wait would be for 2 people, I was met with a not-so-friendly glare, accompanied by, “We wouldn’t be able to seat you until 10 PM.” That was fine, I told her. I’d put my name down anyway—I didn’t believe her for a second. “Are you sure?” she questioned. “Yes,” I answered. She begrudgingly asked for my phone number and put me on the waitlist.
I texted my friend the situation and told her to meet me around the corner at Lai Rai, a Vietnamese natural wine bar that opened late last year. I found us two seats toward the back of the bar and inhaled my surroundings. Lai Rai is a narrow space with bar seating on either side, one bar facing the wall and one that’s free-standing with a friendly tattooed bartender behind it and an old movie projected on the cream-painted brick wall behind her. Groups of friends crowded into the small space, one group even making a small circle with their seats to conjoin both sides of this narrow space—a convivial effort to create community (and a fire hazard). I surveyed the scene and wished I had changed into something more comfortable for such a laid back evening, as I was still in my Corporate Best, but it was okay—to be overdressed is to be brave.
Shortly after I had memorized the wine list and subconsciously decided that we would end up ordering one of their rice wines, I looked up from the menu and saw Valerie smiling under the glow of the light in the doorway. She made her way past the fire hazard of friend groups crowding the walkway.
“Hiiiiiiiii!!!” we said gleefully and hugged.
“Don’t let me forget to give you your sunglasses,” she said to me.
“Don’t let me forget my umbrella again,” I said to her.
We immediately dived* into conversation, oohing and ahhing at the decor and the curated wines and each other’s outfits.
*The original and correct past tense of dive is dived. Not dove. My 8th grade English teacher’s voice lives in my head for better or for worse.
The rice wine that I knew we’d end up ordering arrived and tasted like “so many different things,” as Valerie described it. We are such wine connoisseurs. I started telling her about my trip the past weekend, as I had been in California for 5 days, and it was magical and life-changing and epiphanic as always. If you’re new here (welcome!), I love California, but I love New York more. If you’re new here (welcome, again!), I love driving, but I love walking more.
“My trip was amaaaaaazing,” I started.
Her eyes wide, she said, “Colin was asking me if you’re a California girl now.”
Not quite. Never quite.
I told Valerie about the day that my boyfriend and I spent in Laguna Beach, staying out in the sun too long and waiting out the LA traffic at a bar as we watched the Knicks beat the Celtics to the sounds of a local cover band playing the Beach Boys and the Spinners. I told her about how we went to In-N-Out not once, but twice. I told her how I felt healed, like I always do when I leave New York for California. I told her how we went to a lookout that had the most amazing view of the hills and how I felt like I was in a movie and how 13-year-old me would be so happy she found her long-haired skater boy from California who’s also really smart and kind.
We talked about New York vs LA for what felt like 45 minutes. (I don’t know how this has become such a Big Topic in my writing, but it has.) We talked about how Valerie will back there one day, but I probably will not. Val and I met in college in Northern California, close to her hometown, and both of us love both places. She moved to New York a year ago, and it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to both of us. I love that I get to see her more often, and in general, I love that I get to see all of my friends very often, because it’s SO EASY TO GET PLACES HERE!!!!!
About 2 hours later, we’d lost track of time discussing California and summer plans and the number of various things that the rice wine tasted like. Valerie excused herself to use the restroom as I poured the last of our bottle. As I was sitting there alone, I took a moment to look around at how the number of patrons had dwindled, but the atmosphere still felt so lively. The bartender was happily chatting with a 20-something girl seated at the bar behind me, and I overheard the girl say, “I used to live here—I’m from California actually, but I’m back in New York for a work trip.” Immediately, they both started talking about New York vs California. I texted Valerie.
Me: girl next to us lives in LA
Me: she’s talking to the bartender
Me: why didn’t she chime in!Valerie: stop
Valerie: i can hear nowMe: omg she used to live here for 6 years
Me: so fascinating
Valerie arrived back to our spot. “You have to talk to her,” she deadpanned.
If there’s one thing I’m gonna do, it’s talk to strangers.
I tapped the girl on the shoulder as I said, as nonchalantly as possible, “Wait sorry to eavesdrop, are you guys talking about New York vs LA? We were literally just talking about that!”
“We are!” she said, turning around and smiling. I immediately sensed radiant energy. She seemed like the kind of person who could be cast as the uplifting and spunky best friend in a Disney Channel Original Series. (That is the highest form of flattery.)
“I’m from San Diego, but I lived here for 6 years,” she told us.
“Wait, where in San Diego?” Valerie asked. “My boyfriend is from there—and so are two of our friends.”
We played the name game for about 8 seconds and soon discovered… they went to the same high school.
“WHAT?” I shouted in disbelief. “Sorry,” I half-said to the bartender, and half-said to this stranger whose face I just yelled in. The world is so small.
We spent the next 30 minutes chatting with this person, learning how much we had in common and sharing stories about our life-changing experience at the Coachella set of the Female Rapper she works for. (Wink wink.) It was so beautiful and so special and I was so happy that we had to wait so long for a table at Ha’s Snack Bar because otherwise this encounter would’ve never happened.
After getting each other’s life stories and Instagram handles, our new friend asked, “Wait, what time are you guys supposed to eat? It says on Google that that restaurant closes at 10:30.” I asked for our check, and as I was tapping my card, the bartender told me she was from California too. These people are following me.
We got up from the barstools, hugging our friend goodbye. I grabbed my bag and only my bag.
“You’re just begging to lose that umbrella,” Valerie taunted.
“THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME,” I said as I snatched it from its spot on the floor. Figures.
We made it to Ha’s Snack Bar just in time for the hostess to tell me she still didn’t have a table for us. They were behind on seatings, but she could help me get a reservation for another night if I wanted. I looked around. “What about outside?” I asked. It was 55 degrees outside, but we had come there to eat.
Sitting outside, about 8-inches away from the table next to us, we became quick friends with our drunken neighbors who told us exactly what to order. They worked in the restaurant industry and said, “This is the best restaurant in New York,” and then proceeded to tell us that the restaurants they each work at are “the best restaurant in New York.” I understood. No, seriously.
Chicken liver pate. Snails with tamarind & garlic butter. The salad. The chicken. We ordered it all.
Dipping our crusty bread into pools of garlic butter, we kept giggling about our encounter at Lai Rai and our encounter with the people next to us and all of our encounters with strangers over the years. It’s all magic.
By the end of the night, I had swayed the hostess to let us sit inside as tables became vacant, and Val and I shared a rhubarb & strawberry tart. The atmosphere inside was certainly better than the sidewalk from an aesthetics perspective, but nothing could beat the rowdy conversation and halo of cigarette smoke that had happened on the sidewalk outside.
On my way out, it seemed the hostess was in good spirits, so I asked her if she’d still help me with a future reservation, and she obliged. We’d come next time with our California boyfriends.
I walked home down Prince Street, umbrella in hand, and thought what a blessing it was to have to wait for a table and what a joy it was to be able to walk home.
Fin.
HAPPY (almost) JUNE! THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!! I love you guys :) GO KNICKS!
"What a blessing it is to wait for a table, what a joy it is to walk home" This was such a beautiful last line and the best summation of what sounds like a perfect night! I need to try this restaurant now!
I love this. Everything about it. I’m from Texas, but when it’s time to travel, my friends and I always debate—NY or Cali? It’s usually NY for me (95% of the time). California has its perks, but New York or Nowhere. I love that you highlighted the good things in an inconvenient situation (I always try to do that too).