The Observer walked into Kelly’s Pub beneath the rattle and screech of the 7 line. An unimpressive dive bar with too many televisions came into focus as The Observer’s eyes adjusted from the bright afternoon sun to the dank confines of the bar.
Finding a seat and a cold beer The Observer began to note the assembled residents of Queens. In one corner were a half dozen Chinese men playing Mah Jong and talking loudly in Mandarin. Mandarin that was likely polite exchanges but sounded like a conversational cock fight to The Observer’s untrained ears. Further down the bar was the old Irish lady in her Sunday church clothes nursing a pint of Guiness. Beside her a drunken Chinese man who was sharing a racing form with a heavy set white guy in a NY Rangers jacket. They both stared laconically at the returns from Belmont and a hockey game beaming down from televisions above the bar. Next to The Observer was a table of men watching soccer. A Jamaican, an Indian and a Mexican. They ate chicken wings and chatted amiably in the way old acquaintances do.
They asked if The Observer would like some wings. The Observer accepted and the Indian guy brought a full plate from the grill smoking in the outside area where they kept the bulging black plastic bags of garbage. The Observer thanked him with a smile.
She appeared from the street. She hugged almost everyone in the bar as she made her way to a stool seemingly reserved for her ample rump. The Observer got the impression this wasn’t her first drink of the day. Her clothes were too tight and revealing for a woman who looked like she had been rode hard and put away wet. There were many nights spent in the back seat of a Dodge in the disco era past of this creature. Her voice was like a cheese grater run over piano strings. She flirted liberally with anything wearing pants.
Suddenly the fat man in the Rangers jacket yelled “shit!”. The Rangers just lost their playoff game. His inibriated Chinese compatriot looked up at the TV and joined in with an exclamation in his native tongue; “Mung Waa!” with great distress. The Observer made a cultural stereotype assumption; not a hockey fan, but a betting fan.
Local team loss aside, this was a happy place. A place where elbows of all flavors rubbed. A place where the diaspora of the world made its boozy home. Only in New York. Particularly in Flushing, Queens.
The Gotham Observer 