Williamsburg is one of those places where I’D always thought I’d hang out. After all, when I was sixteen and stuck in Maine, dreaming of John & John when not scheming with Bee, those dreams always involved “just happening” to bump into them in a coffee shop or a bodega or something. I mean, always with a bodega. Which is really odd, when you consider that back then there was no way that I had any way of conceptualizing what a bodega was. Is.

Anyway, despite looking up John & John’s home addresses the very second that I got full access to the New York State DMV records (I used to work for the prosecutor, bet you didn’t know that), I’ve always been more of a Heights/Cobble Hill/Carroll Gardens girl. And I tend to stay put when I’m in a place, rather than needlessly ride the G train. So. Not much of a Williamsburger. Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I just wrote that.

It’s late. I’m babbling. Leland and I went out there tonight, to hit up Act-i-vater DC Wallin at his home base, Tattoo Culture. And, I’m probably going to hell for this, but… Williamsburg is cute. This bar is cute:

Spuyten Duyvil

Flea market decor done right, red tin ceilings, stolen subway signs, a collection of yard sale cookbooks to peruse, tea lined up behind the bar over a mini chest-of-drawers, mismatched wine glasses… and XTC on the gleaming jukebox. Oh, and a cute little wrought-iron fence that you can see on their website.

And meats and cheeses!

And yeah, well, okay, hipsters. Can’t have everything.