A Night with Alberta Essay -- Personal Narrative Descriptive Essays

A Night with AlbertaOn a nipping winter Saturday night, a wind whips across Washington Square into the canyons of Manhattan. practiced New York Univer inductys main dormitory is a little(a) bang club. The large tinted front windows at street level and the vague firing might make a visitor think of an abandoned storefront. However, this small place is where magic can happen. The Cookery is a portal in the midst of the present and the past.Entering the club, the host welcomes my new wife and me a seat. This is some(prenominal) polite and practical for the fresh snow renders the newest patrons blind at first. erst seated at the postage stamped sized tables, the eyes begin to adjust. The coldness weather and the premium for space has made it very cramped. Fur coats, guttle parkas, wool trench coats and the occasional sweatshirt battle for space between chairs. The make out lovers here run the gamut of New Yorks elite to the students of NYU, with all lolly in between. Busine ssmen in two-piece double-breasted business suits sit next to students in neat flannel shirts and jeans. The bodies of the lucky front class patrons shield the stage nation from the arctic blast from the door. The stage area lies vacant. An acoustic bass, upright piano and a set of speakers stand as sentinels guarding the stage area. The lighting bathing these silent talismans seems more appropriate to a museum than that of a performance. As we all wait for the music to begin, the room fills with that subdued buzz of countless private conversations. My wife and I order a seemingly appropriate micro-brewed beer, Brooklyn Beer. The mild bitterness and light sparkle of the beer fits the m just right. The beers come in two bottles, each with a eulogistic tall glass. The beer and glasses produ... ...hint of a sweet wine. To my pleasant surprise, I find the coffee is a Martini. A imbibe of the tea reveals Brandy, orange and lemon. The tea is a Sidecar.We sip our contraband beverage s as the singer segues into a blues nisus that is beyond her years. She sings it though with a feeling that only familiarity should provide. The song finishes, and the band takes a break. I take a last sip of my beer as the tobacco aroma seems to fade from my nostrils. I am asked what I would like for my next drink. I open my eyes. The table is again small. Alberta is walk of life by me to get back to her stairs. I change my drink to a Martini and my wifes drink to a Sidecar. Somehow, I know it is scoop up to have a drink from the correct era. Alberta stops when she hears my order. She looks at me and says, I thought I saw you with us. Well be back in ten-spot minutes sonny. Ill see you there.