Champagne Parties and Caviar Dreams

(This is a continuation of a project I started earlier to spend twenty two dollar bills and notice how people react)

Bill 6 – I joined some friends at Henry Public in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. The bartender was a snappily dressed Brooklyn type complete with a “Mad Men” style skinny tie and a vest. After waiting ten minutes to get his attention in an uncrowded bar at 5 p.m., I tipped him a Two for some exotic draught and got a barely raised eyebrow in return. Bust.

Bill 7 – I hoped for better luck the next day when I went to gimme coffee!, my favorite coffee shop in the city. The girl behind the counter was that adorable and enchanting New York City coffee girl type that seem to find jobs anywhere that has a Proust quote written on a wall in pink chalk. What do the ads for these jobs say? “Wanted: slender, attractive brunette with Lisa Loeb glasses and ineffable charm to serve coffee to young men that own at least three Apple products and openly wear scarves. Ironic tattoos a plus. Fans of Top 40 music need not apply”

I tipped a Jefferson for my coffee and she nodded in appreciation and we chatted briefly. The other barista – who was, naturally, a rail-thin young man with a goatee and a full sleeve tattoo – was impressed as well and started telling me about a strip club he had been to that handed out two dollar bills instead of singles so you end up tipping the girls twice as much.

I almost mentioned that I had heard that if you tour Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s famous estate, the ticket price is $3 so they can give Twos as change if you pay with a five. But I caught myself, realizing that bringing up such trivial nerditude in the presence of such StuffWhitePeopleLike-style New York City hipness would be like farting at a funeral.

“It’s nowhere near as good as this strip club out in San Fransisco, though. All these cute girls with cool tattoos…love it.” continued my sleeved new friend.

“Good to know!”

So I left the coffee shop with both a delicious coffee and a West Coast strip club recommendation. I can honestly say I did not expect a Two to buy me that.

Bill 8 – That weekend I traveled home to the Washington D.C. area for my father’s birthday. I went to buy a Metrocard from a vending machine and I noticed my fare was $1.85.

Hmmmm, I wonder….

I slipped the precious Two into the cold, impersonal vending machine with a sense of trepidation. Considering how highly I have valued two dollar bills my whole life, the idea of losing one for a Metrocard made me a little uncomfortable. But I knew I was compelled to try, for the good of the project.

Bzzrt. The machine spit the bill back. Phew.

That meant that bill number eight had to wait until I was back in New York and went to a brand new pizza place that was running a Grand Opening Promotion: 2 slices for 2 dollars.

2 perfect.

I strode in proudly, ordered my slices, proferred my unusual payment, and waited.

The proprietor took the Two, looked it over wearily, and put it in the tray without a word. Frankly, he looked like he was slowly realizing that he was not going to make any money selling slices at a dollar apiece and he was questioning every decision he had made that lead him to this point. He had a dull, listless stare that even a Two couldn’t fix.

Oh well. Pizza was all right, at least.

Bill 9 – I was hanging out with an old work colleague I hadn’t seen in a while at Local 182. I tipped a Two on two beers and got the by-now familiar bartender doubletake. Then she looked up at me and said, “Ha, I hope you didn’t fake this!”

Hmm.

Now, I know it can be difficult to come up with something clever on the spot (boy, do I know. Exhibit A: me saying, “You too!” in my ‘Fast Reversal’ post.) But the idea that someone would go through the trouble and risk of couterfeiting only to produce a very low-value obscure bill was a particularly unusual one. I don’t have a photo of my reaction, so I give you this lolcat as a rough approximation of my facial expression.

Bill 10 – The next night I was hanging out with a different group of old work friends at The Dove Parlour. When the what-are-you-up-to question came up, I mentioned this two dollar bill project and some of the fun and interesting reactions I was getting. “Oh, how cool!” they said. “Try it here! Try it here!”

So I swaggered up to the bar with a new friend to order some drinks. I whipped out a crisp Two and my new friend watched eagerly. I tipped the bartenderess and she grabbed it and tossed it casually in a jar. Bust.

My new friend was very disappointed. “That happens sometimes.” I said sheepishly.

So there went the next five bills. If nothing else, the Two seems to be the cheapest way to start a conversation, either with someone who’s just received one or with people who want to hear about the project. However, the callous, dispassionate nature of the female New York City bartender continues to be a disappointment. But then again, it always was.