Native American and Partner Open Lounge in New York: A Night With Jesse Wilson
Finally, by 10 p.m., you manage to land yourself a taxi. The driver is a gerbil! The runt can barely grip the wheel or hit the brake with his heel. The beast is all over the road, honking and shouting and laughing maniacally. “This is my kind of guy,” you say, amusedly. Fifteen minutes and a fist-full of dollars later, you're at the new lounge, Analogue, your destination. The joint is just north of Washington Square Park in the heart of The Village in New York. You escape the city, the monotony of the workday, when you enter this place. Jack Kerouac's gallery of faces sits on display at the bar. A bearded bartender in black shakes a drink. Two well-dressed women eye him intensely as he pours the libation into a pair of martini glasses. Far down at the very end of the bar sits the co-owner of the place, Jesse Wilson, a citizen of the Colville Nation. A plate of bacon-wrapped dates just came out of the kitchen, and Jesse scans the plate for perfection; then a tall, dirty-blond server whisks away the delight to a table of businessmen in the back. … Or maybe they're law students. This is, after all, NYU territory, which means any one of these skulls could be a learned professor crowning the day with a scotch or whiskey, served neat – or a heavy-headed 20-something who’s had enough of the mad bar scene down the street. Yes. This is a place for jazz lovers, thinkers, calm drinkers and epicureans with appetites for cheese and wine and good conversation. It’s dimly lit in here; a soft light emits from lamp candelabrums suspended from the forest-green walls. Below the lamps, booths … and on the soft seats sit groups of men in suits and women in heels with cocktail smiles.
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