Get to the PABT a little early and decide to go to Port 41 for a soothing barley beverage, it's a freezin 38 degrees. I toss open the door of the skankiest watering hole in all of Manhattan and what do I behold?
Ten or more burly as all hell Union Iron Workers dancing their asses off to the Pussycat Dolls blasting on the juke box. What a sight. And they know all the words, the Dominican Barmaid is shaking her money maker in full effect, this only whips the union dudes into a frenzy. They will not stop dancing, they are madmen possessed by the hypnotic pussycat dolls infectious beats.
I down 2 Bud drafts in record time and climb aboard the ACF homeward bound with that "when I grow up!" Song bouncing back and forth inside my noggin.
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1 comment:
I just searched for some pictures of Port 41 on Flickr. Wow.
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