"You want the girl to be above the Vickie Mendoza Diagonal."
Circle, the resident NYC go-to for all things Korean partying, is a prey-hunting grounds of epic potential, where men and women alike throw their reservations to the wind and drink and dry hump everything in sight. Hence, once my inhibitions had been sufficiently lowered with generous quantities of whisky and vodka poured for me by un-intriguing men I’d been booked to only somewhat willingly, I decided I’d make my own acquaintances here on out. I turned to the guys at the table next to me and tapped the guy nearest me.
“This table I’m at’s kind of boring,” I said, raising my glass in a friendly hello. “Mind if I join you?”
Last night, I’m wrapping up a night of cocktails at Gansevoort Rooftop with grade school friends Steven and Roya with some Korean-style Chinese. I’m feeling a little flattered by the looks I’m getting from a guy sitting a few tables away, especially considering I’m not in my usual curly sexy going-out attire and instead sporting a tank top and oversized plaid button-up shirt. Apparently the Ms. Peggy country-hick look works a tad too well for me.
I have to pee, so I walk to the bathroom and etc etc. When I exit, I see a Korean guy standing there, playing with his phone. When he notices me, he puts down his hand and looks at me as if he’s been expecting me. I’m a bit taken aback when he actually starts talking to me.
“Excuse me,” he says in Korean. “I was wondering if you had a moment.”