G = Graffiti

This week’s letter was definitely not what I’d planned but turned out to be an interesting little experience nonetheless. After much discussion I decided that illegally tagging a few walls around NYC with my 26 Weeks logo then writing about it on a public blog was probably not the best idea. I enjoy my legal residency in this fine country too much.

So I thought I pay a visit to 5Points www.5ptz.com an outdoor art exhibit in Long Island City, considered to be the world’s premiere “graffiti Mecca,” where aerosol artists from around the world are able to legally paint on the walls of a huge factory building. Sadly it was closed for the season but will open again in the summer to visit but you’re only permitted to paint if you’re an aerosol artist, hmm might have to work on that a bit. Whatever happens I will be visiting it in July when it reopens to coincide with the parties at PS1 – in my humble opinion one of the best experiences you can have dancing in the sunshine in NYC. I recommend you check it out or even better…join me! Oh and if you’re an artist and fancy helping me get a permit to paint my logo at 5Points I will take you to PS1 afterwards and be your beck and call beer girl all day.

So the next plan was to do the Graffiti walking tour of Brooklyn. To kick it off we went to a fabulous little hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Graffiti in the East Village http://www.graffitinyc.com/ and this is where the story begins and ends…

Graffiti is a kooky shoebox-size (us Manhattan dwellers are used to living in shoeboxes so this was just like home from home) delicious restaurant by Jehagnir Mehta, who was on the last Iron Chef don’t you know, where you're served ridiculously delish spicy sharing plates, very reasonably priced and the wine is all $25 a bottle, you could easily impress a date here on the cheap boys, just saying.

Cosy doesn’t even cover how it is in there, you share a table with other guests, well you have one tiny side of a table between two of you and the tables are really on top of each other, everyone gets into the spirit of it though and is mindful of each other’s space whilst making friends at the same time. All was going swimmingly until in walked a group of loud and sadly stereotypical frat boys. You could see the look on everyone’s faces, including the Manager’s, the “you’re in the wrong place” look, however a paying customer is just that so they were seated behind us and we didn’t spare them another thought. That was until Simon was shoved in the back, apparently one of them had been asking Simon to move so he could squeeze into his seat but it’s so loud in there and we were nattering away that we didn’t hear him, a simple tap and excuse me would’ve sufficed but no, a shove was what we got.

What ensued was definitely a new experience for me in New York. In the four and a bit years I’ve lived here I’ve found everyone here to be LOVELY. Kind, generous, warm and friendly. However, this guy was an Italian-American who clearly wanted to be one of the Goodfellas but unfortunately would be more likely to give “The Situation” a run for his money on MTV’s delightful reality show “Jersey Shore”. If you’ve no idea what I’m talking about, google it. So, after asking him why he shoved us out the way we got a torrent of abuse back which we responded to pretty disdainfully, keeping in mind we’re sitting in effectively one tiny room with 12 other people so now everyone’s listening, suddenly “The Shame” as I’ll call him jumps up and asks Simon if he wants to “take it outside”. Honestly, not lying, the whole restaurant bursts out laughing, we tell him to sit down and after a few more choice words, me calling him a little kid and him calling me an old woman (not the best for a girls moral when she’s just invested too much to mention in a new fantabulous face cream that has promised to restore that youthful glow) he sits back down and we continue with our meal while trying to tune out their puffed up on testosterone and beer fuelled egos mouthing off about us. Our table was incredibly gracious and sympathised with us for our encounter with what they describe as a real-life fraternity party, the Manager is wonderful and apologises profusely and brings us complimentary cheese and excellent pinot noir at the end of our meal to make up for it all.

Now, for those who don’t know me that well I’m not the best at keeping my opinion to myself (maybe working on that can be next year’s New Year’s resolution) so for those that do know me this won’t come as much of a surprise. As we leave a sudden urge to put the “The Shame” in his place comes over me and I bend down and whisper quickly in his ear on my way out the door “your mother would be ashamed of you”. Woops. He follows us out with his friend in tow and tries to take a swing at Simon who has no idea what just happened until he realises I’ve put my big old foot in it. After a rather heated argument, including us being told that we should go back to our own country and everyone hates Europeans, hilarious coming from a guy who was clearly proud of his Italian heritage, we decide that this week’s letter has well and truly run it’s course and we toddle off leaving him ranting in the street giggling to ourselves about the crazy unexpected experience that just unfolded out of nowhere. Graffiti had turned out to be full of the drama I’d been avoiding. Lets hope next week’s H = happy!