Witnessing this dynamic in varying degrees throughout the place, I feel as if I’m somewhere in between the Godfather and Dr. They constantly, sometimes nervously, look about the room, especially when a patron or server passes by them it’s as if the subject of their discussion is highly classified. I take particular notice of two suited gentlemen seated far off in the corner, seemingly in the middle of a most pertinent conversation. The many patrons are mostly members of groups, and they all appear to stay within their respective groups never venturing outside their immediate sphere of conversation.
As the beautiful brunette silently departs to give me time to decide what I’ll have, I take the opportunity to observe the immense activity around me while I decide.
It’s a a comfy spot, with the authentic fireplace just a few feet away and a framed, autographed copy of David Talbot’s Brothers: The Hidden History of the Kennedy Years located just above the table. A beautiful brunette in a red dress and a blazer approaches me and escorts me to a low-set table the size of a nightstand with two square cushion chairs on each side. The light shines through the place just enough for me to recognize that the crowd is made up of tightly-knit groups of young professionals, most of whom don’t look a minute over 30.īusiness is booming tonight the place is just short of completely packed. The room is smoky and very dimly lit indeed, most of the faces are barely more than silhouettes and probably intensionally so. He politely but unflinchingly declines my request as he moves towards the door, bidding me to come inside.Īs the door opens, the serene quiet of the passageway is swept away by the din of clinking glasses and loud conversation, all wrapped up in a layer of fusion Jazz music. After thanking him, I ask him for permission to take his picture for this article. I cross East 77th Street and immediately catch sight of two identical Jaguars with the engines running opposite a sign that reads: “Bar & Books: New York Prague Warsaw: The Most Refreshingly Civilized Places to Meet.” I walk in, and I am greeted by Muhammed a tall and imposing, yet soft-spoken gentlemen in long coat with brass buttons who offers to take my coat. Not a soul on the sidewalk, and not a car on the street. It’s a chilly Saturday night all is eerily quiet on the Upper East Side.
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