Some of the best days are spontaneous. When you have nothing planned and one thing leads to another and you end up in places you would have never thought when you woke up that day. January 31st was one of those days for Mike and John. It all started with a phone call at 1pm. A woman called John and asked where was he? John had made arrangements on Craigs list to buy an exercise bike from the woman and was supposed to pick it up on Ocean Ave and Parkside at noon. Since the night before was a poker tournament John was hung over and totally forgot about the bike. He told the woman he would be there in a half hour. Since the bike was 85 pounds and the woman lived in a walk up John enlisted Mike to take the ride with him. It would only take an hour to get the bike and get home. When they got there the building was a little seedy. As they entered some guy coming down the stairs seeing Mike in his trenchcoat and John looking like the old cop that he is called out five-oh, five oh. They got the bike and it was obvious that the woman never used it judging by the size of her.
If you've never had a Container (also known as a "Farrellizer") at Farrell's, there's really no way to do it justice through words. Basically, it's like a 40oz styrofoam cup of draft beer. They used to come in round paper cups shaped like cylinders, but they moved to styrofoam about 12 years ago.
It is technically Budweiser, but tastes nothing like the normal piss Budweiser that comes in cans or bottles. Legend has it that Farrell's brass taps are so old, they chill the beer with a flavor that can't be experienced anywhere else. A Farrell's Container is like a styrofoam-guided missile of ice-cold alcohol straight to your brain. Here in Brooklyn, there's been many hearts broken, teeth knocked out, and babies made following a few Farrellizers.
Finally, one great new reason to patronize Farrell's: the new two-dimensional hipster-yuppie transplants to the area absolutely despise it. They want it gone. One fed-up yuppie resident in particular even went as far as to call it "a cancer in the community." Now, if that's not reason enough to give Farrell's all of your money, then I don't know what is.
John and Mike were hungry after the Farrells container so the adventure would continue, it was off to La Taqueria. John and Mike ordered two of the giant burrito's with the Rachel Special. You have to go there to experience it yourself.
As we walked back to the car down a side street a book caught John's eye lying on a stoop in front of a brownstone. there were a dozen or so books on the step and one of them was called The Westies, which both John and Mike had read. This copy was in brand new condition so John asked the man on the stoop how much he wanted for it. The books were free to anyone who wanted them.
When they got home Rita had no idea where they were, or even that they were gone. she didn't even know we were getting the bike and was happy to see it. John was flying out the next morning for two weeks in Rincon. It was nice to spend some time with Mike before he left. They reminisced about a similar day they shared one August day, just before Mike left for Albany one year.