The rain was pouring down when we got out of the theatre. The Times Square crowds were intense. And we were shell-shocked after an afternoon of stimulating acting. So where to go? Where’s my “third place” in NYC?

Ok, this may be a serious cliche for a writer, but one of my favorite places in NYC is… the Algonquin Hotel. I know, it’s packed with tourists trying to soak up the long-lost glamour of the departed Vicious Circle and their Round Table, but it still has a certain charming ambiance (and I’m a tourist this weekend anyway!). The back bar that afternoon was tended by a man who could make serious cocktails and we needed a reprieve from the rain. So we navigated through the post-theater crowd to belly up to the bar, where I inbibed in champagne cocktails properly bittered, and my friend indulged in a custom margarita that had never seen sour mix. Nice. Nothing like soaking in some alcohol while your rain-soaked selves dry off in a candlelit bar, solving your life’s problems in a snap, warm and content.

After the sticker-shock of the bill, luckily muted by a happy buzz, we headed back out into the rain. At the foot of the front desk, an extraordinarily beautiful cat (the famous Matilda) was waiting imperiously for dinner, meowing like an archduchess at the passing bellmen.

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