The tale of Linda-rella and Prince Disarming (and THE HOLD STEADY @ The Warsaw: Greenpoint)

My first time walking into The Warsaw was exciting. I never knew there was a large concert auditorium right here in Greenpoint. More than a concert auditorium, there was a side-room with a kitchen and tables, and another large room for the bar & lounge. The doors opened at 8, I arrived at almost 9 and it was still pretty empty. In perfect Polish fashion, it seemed like they were pretty lax about starting on time.

The Warsaw, in Greenpoint, is understandably a Polish venue. Complete with cute Polish girls serving Okocim beer (a tasty, smooth Pilsener. I recommend) and old, friendly Polish women serving Kielbasa, Pierogies and Sauerkraut in the dining room. While snacking down on a hearty serving of thick Polish sausage and potato & cheese dumplings, I silently apologized for all the Polish jokes I'd either told or laughed about in the past, understanding that if I did so here, I was liable to be taken out back and beaten severely.

The Hold Steady, (which are in short, a sloppy, guilty-Catholic, Gutter-punk Bruce Springstein and the E st. Band from Minnesota) took the stage by 11. Which, after a couple of beers and whiskeys at home, and two Okocims & one Wild Turkey at the bar made me feel right at home thrashing out to their deeply inspired rock ballads, which frontman Craig Finn properly belted off-tempo.

The details of the show i don't remember fully. What I do remember, was that when I was bringing my 2nd Wild Turkey into the fray, a bright-blue eyed, full-bodied cutie nearly snatched it right out of my hands. Well there, missy. I let her sip, and next thing I knew we had our fingers intertwined and she was grinding against me in the sweaty crowd. Nice.

The concert let out at around 12:30 and she told me her name (only after we had been kissing): Linda. And funny thing- Linda had no shoes on. Fancy that, somehow she lost them at the show. $4 loafers, but seriously. They were her freakin' shoes. In proper gentlemanly fashion, I offered her mine long enough to walk with her friends back to the friends' apartment and then hopefully, back to mine while I walked through the streets of Greenpoint in my argyle socks.

As she flopped toward Nassau ave in my size 13s, arm entwined in mine, she told me she was a linguistics students at a large university in New England, in town for the show and crashing on her friends' floor, unless of course, a better opportunity opened up. She was also drinking whiskey most of the night. Due to the foot-flopping and the occassional make-out break, we fell behind the rest of her friends so that when they turned the corner and we eventually followed. . .

They were gone.

Linda could have SWORN that this was their block, but she didn't know which building and her cell phone was in her purse which was in the apartment. And then it started raining.

Being the charming, dashing Prince that I was, we tried calling her phone, hoping the friends would hear it and pick up, but my batteries were soon dead and we were without options. I told her the best thing to do would probably take a car service back to my place, plug in my phone and keep calling. She nervously agreed.

By 3am, we gave up on calling. I told her that the next morning she could take a spare set of shoes that were a little too small for me, and still too big for her and agreed to call it a night. We got to kissing, and holding, and gripping and as darned as this dashing prince tried. . .

Dang it, she just wouldn't let me into them panties. So much for Prince Disarming. I told her I respected her decision and excused myself to the bathroom to rub one out.

We got 4 hours of sleep and on my way to work, I deposited her and the too-small-sneakers I bought in San Francisco at the Nassau st. Station. We were able to check her voicemail which had one concerned message from her friends with a phone # to call. We called all morning and eventually told them that she'd be at a coffee shop at that corner wearing too-big shoes.

I recieved a phone call later that day from her, telling me all was well and she and her friends were on a bus back to UConn. She thanked me for everything. Especially the shoes and the $10 I spotted her that morning. I told her to call me if she was ever back in NYC, which I highly doubt she will

How come things ALWAYS turn out better in the fairy tales?