"It couldn't have happened anywhere but in little old New York"

Having lived in New York City (on and off) for quite a while made me a little apprehensive about moving to D.C. The thought of leaving behind those familiar, albeit smelly and dirty streets gave me a little heartache. I remember walking north from Trader Joe's on Union Square one night and coming across a gastro-pub called Pete's Tavern. I came to a sudden halt and re-read the sign on the canopy at least four times to ensure that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. It said ' The tavern that O'Henry made famous'. That to me was equivalent to meeting the Queen of England or the Pope. As a teen, I had poured over his short stories, re-reading them often from a thick paperback which was a compilation of all his stories. And so, seeing the very place where the literary marvel wrote 'The Gift of the Magi' made me feel reverence towards the spot.

The pub had managed to retain elements from the early 20th century in their beautifully carved wooden booths and furnishings. On speaking to the kind manager, whose name I am unable to recall, I was informed that the tavern had, well, always been a tavern for over a century although its ownership changed many hands. In fact, it was even operational during the Prohibition era! People walking past would only see a small flower shop while a lucky few would be privy to its true nature, well concealed behind a facade of lilies and roses. And yes, I am pleased to say that the owners managed to preserve that speakeasy. Although it is only open for private events, they'll be more than happy to oblige your request for a little tour.

What further added a little charm to the atmosphere was the appetizing menu and the hospitality. Our server was attentive and very prompt with our order of french fries and onion rings (for some inexplicable reason, we crave fried food close to midnight). And of course, there was the gracious manager who was almost relieved to know that a guest actually knew of O'Henry. He checked on us often to see if everything was alright and even sent over a complimentary glass of wine. It wasn't the wisest decision to have that last one, especially since we had already made our way through an entire bottle of Columbia Crest's smooth and delectable Cabernet Sauvignon.

It was with much effort that I made my way towards the exit. No, not because I was inebriated, but because I didn't want to remove myself from the site that O'Henry had frequented more than a century ago. To me it was as good as meeting him.

And this, my dear readers, is only one such instance of many serendipitous moments that I have had in the city of New York.