“I can’t see you, it’s a crowd of fools.” my friend Lucia wrote to me, whose apartment overlooks on what can be considered one of those “squares” of Milan-that-drink like the Colonne, Sant’Agostino, Arco della Pace, Darsena, La Foppa/Garibaldi, “Maga Furla”, Piazzale Lavater, “Chiringay”. I wanted to offer her a drink, but she preferred to finish a very boring interview. Too bad for her, she missed the umpteenth Vinyl evening: honest cocktails at 5 euro also seated (especially the gimlet), good rock music, young, good and beautiful waitresses, the boss who offers shots of vodka or tequila or whatever-you-want from the third round onwards and people who sit at your table to talk about philosophy, cinema and other cheesy speeches. The offer “One liter of San Miguel for 5 €” (always seated if you want) is not convincing enough for all those stationed outside Vinyl – on the road, in double-triple row, in Andreas Kipar’s paddock and on the ground – and who prefer to drink the warm domestic beers they are familiar with, besieged by street vendors on bicycles selling focaccia and other nice night-time retailers. Too bad for them, I keep drinking gimlets. At 2 a.m. I give up on Lucia and go for a relaxing walk under the skyscrapers.
Translated by @silaskin