Hey,
Welcome back — Day Five
A quick heads-up: today’s post is going to be a little different. I mentioned before that this space might zig and zag, and this is me trying something — this is one of those zags. I’m diving into some creative writing today. If that’s your thing, awesome — let’s do this! If not, no worries at all! I’m sure there will be something more up your alley coming soon.
The story I’m sharing is a recent one — straight from this past Wednesday — fresh in the mind. It’s something I want to share partly for you, because it’s a fun, cool story, and partly for me, because I want to make sure I never forget it.
The Olive Tree Cafe
Eli, Ladd, Luke, Torsten, and I were walking through Manhattan. It was about 4:30 PM. We’d just passed through Washington Square Park and we came to the busy intersection of Bleeker and Sixth Ave.
For the past few blocks, I’d been bugging the group to find a coffee shop so I could get a head start on Day Two of writing. Anxiety was creeping in. I wanted to finish the piece reasonably quickly and not impact the rest of the group’s evening. And I wanted to make the writing good.
But more importantly. A few of us needed to pee. Bad.
I rounded a corner and saw a sports bar. “That’ll do,” I thought to myself. I walked in and feigned confidence as I walked to the back. (In retrospect, I don’t know why I was so nervous to do this, but it’s New York, I figure business owners are protective and don’t want non-paying customers using the restroom — fair enough.)
Eli followed in after me. When I walked out of the sports bar, the guys were nowhere to be found. Somehow I got disconnected from the rest of the group. I called them, walked a block or so, and saw Ladd’s head standing tall above the rest of the people on the sidewalk.
“Come on,” he said as he swung his arm in a circle waving me over, his scarf bouncing up and hitting him in the face as he did so. “We found a place.”
Further down the block was Torsten and Luke, standing outside The Olive Tree Cafe. We walked in, and passed through a curtain into the dim light of what we anticipated to be a cafe, but was more of a restaurant/bar. There was a set of stairs that led up to the restaurant portion, with a full bar and many tables, but immediately to the left was where we settled ourselves: In a little alcove with four small, two-person tables, and lamps that hung low casting a warm light just above our heads.
We settled in and were quickly greeted from afar by our waiter, Greg, a smaller man, with slightly long, tousled hair peeking out at the back from underneath a beanie. He sported a mustache — a pretty good one — and held a toothpick in his mouth that pointed upward into his mustache with every word he spoke. When Greg approached, Ladd went into Ladd Mode:
“I like the toothpick look,” Ladd said enthusiastically with a big grin.
“Thanks,” Greg, our waiter, grunted back in a gravelly tone.
“– while you’re working… I like it,” Ladd mumbled, finishing his original thought under his breath.
“It’s more of an ‘I’m tired look’ than anything else,” Greg replied — Ladd laughed.
“Nice, nice, you go out last night?” Ladd said again, his energy and smile the only thing keeping the conversation even remotely alive.
“Yeah, I did,” Greg said roughly with the heavy weight of a hangover palpable in his words.
We proceeded to order nothing more than a drink each, the majority of which was chamomile tea. All the while taking up three tables — I thought this dude was going to hate us. So I threw in an order of some french fries with extra ketchup for us to appear a touch more legit. It totally worked — like a charm.
While I wrote, the others found different ways to pass the time. Eli wrote in his journal, Torsten sat back, his chilled glow radiating, as did Luke. Meanwhile, Ladd continued to find refuge in Greg — once again — peppering him with questions.
He asked him about what he does, where he’s from, and what he would recommend to a group of guys with one more night in New York City.
Turns out, Greg’s an actor and a comedian from Philadelphia. Working at the restaurant is his second job. And if it was his last night in New York he told us he’d go to a comedy show. But not just any comedy show, the comedy show. Here — downstairs. “Downstairs…?” I thought to myself.
“It’s the Madison Square Garden of comedy,” Greg said. “No bullshit.”
Journal Prompt:
Try something different today. Take a moment to write a story. A time when you went on an adventure. When spontaneity outweighed routine. Or when the unexpected surpassed all expectations.
Stay tuned for Part Two tomorrow!
Appreciate you being here and being willing to try something new with me today,
Rory O.
Rally On.
I thoroughly enjoy experiencing this story through your unique perspective. You’ve masterfully left us on a tantalizing cliffhanger, and I can hardly wait to see how it all unfolds in the finale.
It’s remarkable how something as unexpected as a small bladder and the Rally Journaling series brought us to the velvety charm of the Olive Tree Café.
Thanks Ror
left me hangin off the cliff kid.. waiting for part 2, impatiently.