Dear Midwood Flats

I’ve returned from another New York visit with my brother, his friends, and the change of pace it brings. We had an awesome time at restaurants like Risbo and Moe’s, sites like Grants’ Tomb and USS Intrepid, and getting in 15-20,000 steps a day.

And that’s where the apology begins:

Dear Midwood Flats,

We met upon my arrival to the city. I was fresh from the plane and anxious to walk. From my brother’s apartment, I walked in your direction, never knowing you existed. I had no intention of sitting down for a beer. But I walked, perhaps a mile or so, but enough that my intentions changed.

At first, I walked past you, curious, but dedicated to enjoying the midafternoon sun. On my return, I decided to check you out.

Midwood Flats: You’re beautiful. I only stayed for a beer, but in the meantime, I met a fellow film lover and chatted with Luise. I enjoyed the music, the high-top chairs, and the local vibe I felt. One beer could have turned to two or three, but I’m still limited with my liver. You understand!

Before I left with my brother in search of dinner – I don’t know if I can say that since we knew where – I told you I’d be by for Sunday karaoke.

I never showed.

I’m sorry. Karaoke on Sunday stayed in my head throughout my visit. Thursday through Saturday, I was ready. Yet, by the end of Sunday’s activities, I was beat! Saturday? I would have been all in! But Sunday? I was beyond tired. I could have crashed by 9:30 or 10. Will, of course, kept me up until 11:30, playing Crazy Eights.

And I didn’t even have the heart to call and let you know.

I’m sure you were waiting for me. I’m sure someone else knocked your socks off with their rendition of “Brandy” or “Under the Boardwalk.” I hope you can forgive me.

Next time…whenever that is, I’ll show up. I swear it.

Sincerely,

Nick