The American Bar & Grill on a Sunday morning

Bob Marley, again and again. Window tables turning over and over with new late night party goers. Smoke fills the room and the mood is mellow tinged with slurred Russian vodka talk. Who would have guessed the busiest time of day for the American Bar & Grill would be 7:30 a.m. on Sunday morning?

The most adorable gay couple sat on the opposite side of the restaurant, their pouting profiles sillhouetted against the white stucho wall graced with pictures of old hollywood movie posters. I watched as the one with spiky bleach blonde hair argued with his lover, thin flailing arms swirling their cigarette smoke through the air. The brunette, a bruised look on his face, offered a softer rebuttal. I could only imagine his reply, “Ny, Kolya, shto s toboi sevognya?” The spiky one then half sat up in his chair, leaned over and gently patted his partner on the head and brushed his cheek with his lips. The make up session complete, they enjoyed the tender moment, the one reaching for a bite of salad and filling his lover’s mouth with the wilted oily spinach. From time to time, the spiky one would again, like an impish elf, reach over and affectionately kiss his partner on the cheek. They both rose to leave, bumping into one another, clearly the remains of the evenings’ alcohol still spinning in their heads, and the two, both about 5’5” petite and cuddly in their casual jeans and t-shirts, found their way to the exit like little wooden kookly dolls.

To their right, a couple sat, the woman in a plain skirt and red blouse, hunched over her bowl of kasha, or oatmeal, swirling the brown sugar around. She sat grim and silent most of the next 45 minutes. The man, long silver streaked hair and thick black rimmed glasses, seemed as distant as she, shared a similar bowl of kasha. They carried an adidas sports bag, and somehow didn’t seem to look as though they had been out all night. Three young guys sat at another table, moderatly engaged in conversation, but one seemed to be scoping out the girls nearby, dragging on his cigarettes like a stallion prowling his potential lovers.

Unfortunately for him, I am probably the only available female in the bar! As those tables clear out, new folks take their place.

The other 3 or 4 tables were brimming with sexual energy coming from the glow of late night drinking and eating. Three groups were Russians in their late thirties or early forties. One man, nearest to me, sat firmly on the small leather seat of the wooden chair, one hand resting on the back edge of his partners chair, the other alternating between cigarette and shot glass. “Larisse, Larisse, slushai mnye” He slurred, eyes drooping, head bobbing as he tried to make a point to one of his friends. Philosophical heavy conversation seemed to engross them. The blonde in the 4 inch heals and big light blue sunglasses, carefully listened, holding her cigarette with soft slender fingers perfectly manicured in a pale shade of pink.

The last table of partygoers was much younger - late twenties. One woman was stunningly beautiful in a light pink satin spaghetti strap dress barely covering her tight body. Long naturally curly blonde hair, she was quite striking. The man she was with strutted like a peacock, clearly proud of his choice of female for the evening. On his way to the toilets, he encountered an acquiantance between tables. As they stood there, he in his casual blue jeans and CCCP t-shirt and shoulder length wavy black hair, the other fashionably dressed in a very sexy 5 o’clock shadow and handsome suit to match. A pause of nearly 10 seconds revealed the gleam in their eyes as they met was a definite shared unspoken signal that they both planned to get lucky as soon as the diner experience is over. Then, the requisite male kiss on the cheek and solid hug, cigarette hands patting shoulders, acknowledging further that male hunting that bonds the species. They departed around 8:30 a.m.

Enter 2 guys with cell phones and notepads, shortly joined by a third. All eagerly hunched over the table, rapidly conversing, consulting someone on a cell phone. Wonder what business is going down over there? Two suits arrived - it’s not even 9 a.m. on Sunday morning. Oh, to have bionic ears would be nice. I could make up conversations, I suppose, it might even be more interesting than the real thing.

Empty shot glasses and cigarette packs, looks like the big guy with balancing problems is finally going home, his exhausted philosophical mind has taken it’s final course. He’ll spend the rest of the hot and humid day in bed, I am sure.

Two new guests arrive, both men, both alone, both sit quietly on opposite sides of the restaurant, unassuming and pensive, their cigarettes their only companions.

You could make a whole experience out of this. Ah, there go the suits. I don’t think they even had time to chew their food. It’s just after 10 and I’ve been here for nearly 3 hours. One table of party goers from my original arrival remain deep in conversation and french fries. They are looking at their watches and coming to the realization that it is 10 a.m. Probably at this point, they are beyond their fifth wind. Endless energy in a city that never sleeps. I even had trouble at 7 a.m. this morning crossing Tverskaya illegally. There are probably only 2 times at which this would be possible - early on a Sunday morning, or anytime that traffic is so thick in both directions that you can safely weave your way between fenders. But even on a Sunday morning, beware of the mercedes going 110 miles an hour. They tend to come out of nowhere and stop for no one.

The first family has arrived. My friends Ira and Dima met me yesterday for breakfast at 11:30. By then, it was more or less busy with late morners brunchers. They come here all the time. You can now even get a frequent breakfast card! Every fifth breakfast is free. Kid friendly and cheap, the AB&G offers free coffee with breakfast. Internet access is free, and if you find a cozy table near the wall, you can plug in and stay for the day. I’m tempted to do that, to see how the crowd changes, but alas, I still want to visit some old haunts and I need to pick up a matrioshka for Lisa at some point as well as my staple loaf of Russian bread and jar of caviar.

So, I think that last group of party goers is going to outlast me! Troopers to the end.