Follow The Yellow Brick Road To Your Emerald City

Sometimes I journey days, weeks, on rare occasion, a month to get to my Emerald City. It’s the destination that houses the thought and belief that everything will be ok. You know that once you get there, you’ll be surrounded by friends, new and old, and live music and good food and liquor. It’s always good times at the Pig on 2nd. There are 4 different locations in Manhattan. I’ve been to 3 out of 4. None compare to the one on 2nd Ave. There are so many good memories that exist because of that place. We’ve met people from all over the world, some we still talk to, some we only had one encounter with. There are pictures of us somewhere in Ireland owned by an elderly trio (one of which was an 85 year old man I dubbed Sassy Sally—we made his first visit to the states the highlight of his life).

I even have an adopted child who lives in the bar (the polar bear in some of my pictures on facebook), and who sits in my lap most times that I’m at the bar. Not the best way to meet men, I know, but it doesn’t really matter because I have everything I need when I get there. There was a time when ASK’s (that’s the kids name) real mother came into the bar while he was in my lap. I had to do a quick under the counter pass to his father in order to avoid conflict with his ex-wife. No one likes having someone else raise their children when they aren’t there:-)

There was also the time Mad M. drank a whole bottle of wine by herself, knocked her head on a surfboard on the wall, and sang Sweet Caroline at the top of her lungs (mostly without any of the correct words) before passing out on a bench at Cypress Avenue at 2am. These memories exist because of that place. I like that.

It’s so nice to have one place where I know there’s no drama at---as long as I check the calendar of events :-P--and I don’t want anything to taint that. It helps that there are bartenders who have very adorable Irish accents. Anyone who knows me, knows I’m a sucker for an accent. And as much as I would love to jump all over those boys, I don’t because of one thing: I don’t want to lose my happy place. Yes, I know that somewhere on this island there exists another Pig n’ Whistle-esque establishment but I don’t want another one. I like this one right now. It’s like home. And maybe one day, we will have to part ways, but for now, I like knowing that I can go home every once in a while.