Washington Square Park, Friday Evening

It was Friday. There were three of us, and we were very excited to be together, because:
1. one of us lives in Harlem which is kind of a trek, so the Brooklynites don't see her too often.
2. it was Fleet Week, which is when thousands of Navy and Marines men and women come ashore and roam around NYC in their uniforms. It's a great time.
3. it was the Friday before Memorial Day, and the long weekend beckoned.

It was a very New York City-type evening, the type that only seems to happen in movies. We went to Pala Pizza, which is a (pricey) really, really tasty pizza and pasta joint, down the street from Katz's Deli, and one of the few anywhere that has gluten-free crusts (one of us, as you may deduce, can't eat gluten.) What did we get? For starters, the potato croquettes, which were delicious, and then we split the spinaci pizza, which was spinach, ricotta, cherry tomatoes, and a bunch of garlic--probably some other stuff too, and the special pizza, which was prosciutto, peaches, goat cheese, and..olive oil? SO GOOD. We sat outside and people-watched, which is especially promising there in the East Village. A band was setting up at the club next to us, and intriguing people wandered by--I think there may be more fedoras in the East Village, per capita, than anywhere else! The waitress was great, really friendly. And I have to say, I've had some non-appetizing gluten-less bread-type experiences, but the pizza crust at Pala tastes better than most flour-based pizza crusts. It just seems lighter and fresher. Healthier. At least that's what I tell myself.

After this feast, we sluggishly wandered north, around Chinatown and further up through the East Village to get to Babycakes, which is (you guessed it) a really good gluten-free bakery. My friend's mom makes the best potato and rice flour concoctions I've ever had (her orange cupcakes are great) but Babycakes might be even better. I got a lemon one this time. They use agave instead of sugar, too. We ate those and wandered some more, using Robert Frost poems to guide us ("'And looked down one as far as I could/To where it bent in the undergrowth;/Then took the other, as just as fair,/And having perhaps the better claim,/' alright guys, Bob says we should turn away from the park"). We eventually got over to Greenwich Village (where people were just heading to dinner) and walked through Washington Square Park which glitters at night. We were in front of the arch when we heard the music.

There was a band set up, which is not too unusual: a portly man in a suit singing, a few guitar players, a fedora-wearing skinny piano man, and the usual bunch of weirdos milling about. They weren't great, musically, but what they lacked in tunefulness they made up for in showmanship. Because here was the odd thing about this group of musicians--there were a lot of people standing around them, perched on benches, en route to dinner or clubs, and EVERYONE was singing along. Yes, it was a dance party in the park. There were a lot of NYU students, but also older people walking their dogs, cops, people who were sort of drunk, people who were definitely sober, people in high heels and tiny dresses, frat boys, nerdy engineering students, business people, hippies--and us, full of pizza and cupcakes. Once they launched into a rendition of "Billie Jean," we decided to stay for a bit. We stayed for over two hours.
Here are some highlights, from what I can remember:
--the older gent with the MoMA bag who frenetically danced in front us to the Jackson 5.
--how the band changed the lyrics in "Don't Stop Believin'" from "just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit/He took the midnight train goin' anywhere," to "just a city boy, born in NEW YORK CITY (everyone cheered)/He took the Q train goin' anywhere."
--there was a guy by us wearing a black robe, and I whispered to my friend, "what's his deal, do you think he's a judge?" She responded, "he can't be a judge, he looks younger than us!" Someone must have finally asked him, because it turned out he had graduated that day, and was still wearing the robe, for some reason. So then random people were going, "congratulations, man!" and giving him high-fives.
--everyone trying to sing Lady Gaga. There was a stately looking Asian man near us who ended up slow dancing with the singer during a version of "Bad Romance."
--the obviously inebriated (although harmless) man who lurched around playing the air guitar, and telling everyone to donate to the band. "Maybe he's their manager," my friend whispered, "and he's not a very good one, so that's why they're playing in the park."
--when the piano player got up to breakdance (very well), and a woman in the crowd yelled, "move your body, white boy!" and then everyone cheered.
--the fact that we sang along to everything, even if we didn't know the lyrics--and so did everyone else.
--during "Benny and the Jets," they changed the part where it's a call between "Benny" and "Jets" to "Benny" and "Giants," and occasionally "Mets" and "Yankees" too. At one point the singer said, "Patriots" instead, and the crowd booed.
--the people who were hula hooping over to the side.
--the woman with the violin who jumped up from the benches and joined in during one of the songs.
--the way you can see the Empire State Building through the arch in the park.
--the closing song was "Bohemian Rhapsody," and it was so horribly sung (especially the falsetto) but with so much dancing and clapping, that really, who cares?

The band is apparently there a few nights a week. I may never see them again, but I want to thank them for making us laugh so hard, and dance like idiots, and see so many varied and interesting people.

A good night, in what is often a very good place to live.