“You are icons”

My doorman remarked on my late night arrival. I said, “I was pulled into a speak.”

My friend D asked the bouncer at this unmarked [or, perhaps, mismarked] venue what the line was and next thing we had a table.

Our ages, though D is more than a generation my junior, made us stand out at this West Village speakeasy.

The youngsters around us were appreciative and friendly. We got every courtesy as they passed our corner perch. A fellow helped me up when we were ready to leave.

One young woman took our picture, murmuring “You are icons,” in approving tones.

The loud tunes had D dancing in her seat, and me repeating “what” in every attempted conversation.

We had eaten down the block at The Warren before going to the theater, so this detour was drinks. Kudos for the joint’s beautiful deep raspberry-colored mocktail.

Thanks to D’s willingness to look behind the curtain (it’s a speak, folks) and take a seat at that coveted table, we had a blast.

Oh, and an extra special thanks to the maitre d’ (bouncer) who brought us in from the sidewalk to the club. Yeah, we cut the line and VIPed our way in!

A red carpet moment.