October: Outside Ethel’sOn a Saturday night in early October, at about nine, twenty-three-year-old Connie Dyson stood outside Ethel’s, near the street. A stranger walked up to her, introducing herself as “Michelle” and waving to a friend who went into the bar without her.
“You remind me of someone.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You remind me of someone. Me. First time?”
“That obvious?”
“Let’s take a walk. Don’t worry, I am not hitting on you. You’re cute but not my type,” and she gave an exaggerated wink. The pair headed west and turned up Hudson Street. Michelle put her arm through Connie’s. She told her story of coming to New York from upstate two years earlier and through the internet hearing of Ethel’s. She stood pretty much where Connie was before someone recognized her for what-she-was and too
