LATE NIGHT, JOHNNY’S BAR – WEST VILLAGE

I just saw a ghost walk out of Johnny’s Bar. Rail thin, dark as night, wearing nice clothes and a very wide brim fedora, he floated past, giving me a knowing nod and a just barely perceptible hint of a smile. There had been a brief pause when I think he was considering coming over, but he was obviously on his way somewhere important, and probably late at that, and my acknowledgement, a return nod and overt smile, was sufficient for him.

I forget his name, I’m terrible with names. But I remember the face. Older than last time, and visibly thinner, but still the same guy I’ve talked and drank with several times over the years.

Johnny’s is one of my lesser frequented “regular” bars in New York, but still on my short list. It’s a classic dive (don’t miss the restroom experience), and while more pricey than some of my other haunts, it’s still decently priced for Manhattan. Plus it’s conveniently situated in the general center of other joints I frequent, or used to frequent when they still existed, in the West Village. I don’t remember the first time we met, but he does. I do remember when I discovered the fact that he remembered me.

A chilly early evening, I’d ducked into a fairly full Johnny’s to grab a few while I assessed my next move. I grabbed a seat against the wall and before my rear hit the seat the guy next to me, who was also nominally taking care of the door, had swung around and informed me it had been a while and how was I doing? Yes, typical bar talk, and the type I immediately find suspicious (why not?). But then he went about itemizing the last time we’d talked and knew things only someone who I had in fact met before would know. So he really knew me, or was either a mind reader or had done some impressive research on me (but for what reason?). I quickly decided all three possible scenarios were worthy of giving this guy my immediate and undivided attention.

That night we talked and drank deep into the evening. The next time I ran into him he again remembered me, and this time I remembered him. The last time we saw each other he said he had just gotten back after being in Chicago for some time, and that hadn’t gone well. He was already thinking of heading back to Chicago for a second try. I was meeting someone for dinner so we didn’t speak long.

That was the last time I’d seen him before The Great Covid Pause, and my prowling habits since then hadn’t lined up in our favor. He had crossed my mind over the last few years and I would wonder, which I tend to do especially for NYC folks, if they made it through (we miss you Jimmy). So it was a relief when I saw him glide past and out the door just now, oddly sniffing something as he headed south down Greenwich Ave.

Unless I did see a ghost…