Wingmen

Though exhausted from the first full week of teaching, my roommate and I decided it was a must that we go out tonight. We contemplated taking the train down to the Lower East Side, but finally decided that it would be best to stay local, so we went to one of our favorite spots: The Astoria Beer Garden.

While walking there, we became inspired by an Alanis Morisette song to write a list of 21 things we want in a lover. (I was really the reason for this, I have a thing for making lists.) So, we're at the beer garden, a very popular place in the summer that's difficult to get into. It's a huge, outdoor open space with picnic tables, lots of beer, and two giant grills. And we're having a grand time making our lists. We had made it to number 16, when we were approached by the Mikes. Mike #1 sat beside me, and Mike #2 sat beside my roomie. Their opening line? While pointing at me, #1 said, "You look just like my friend's (#2's) ex-girlfriend." As you can guess, I melted on the spot...

They proceeded with a number of lame lines, then asked us what we were writing down. I know what you're thinking, it would have been fairly easy to get rid of these guys, but sometimes I can't help myself: I was curious to see what ridiculous thing they would say next. So, we shared our little lists, which they (without our permission) submitted to their own approval. Some of my favorite quotes along the way (to be read in the stupidest, stereotypical-dumb-jock-Queens accent you muster up mentally):

• "Are you two, like, partners or something?"

• "I was in special ed, sweetheart."

• "You don't take a compliment very well. What? You don't get a lot of them or something?"

• The two blank stares received when my roommate used the word dogmatic.

• (Referring to a requirement on my list to have lived in more than one state) "That's just wrong. That's wrong. You can't have that on there." I repeated that this was my list, and I could put whatever I wanted on it. This, apparently, was the final straw. Mike #1 left, and Mike #2 (following standard wingman procedure) followed.

I don't know how many guys would really stand a chance when meeting girls who happen to be making lists of what they want in a boyfriend, but a 35-year-old man who keeps referring to me as sweetheart, feeds me lines that are generally saved for bad jokes, and comes in with another guy of the same name with the same canned lines wouldn't have a chance under any circumstances. Maybe my standards are too high?

Anyhow, other than those ten ridiculous minutes, the Beer Garden was awesome as usual. You always run into someone you know, and tonight they had a Czech polka-esque band. There's nothing like the diverse crowd that swarms into the beer garden dancing drunkenly to crazy music played my men dressed in funny outfits and wielding large brass instruments. Not your typical New York City night, but still one of the reasons I love this place. You really never know what will happen next.