The Hester or Grand Street bar/restaurant is run by a couple of women with apparent sapphic leanings, as this wall photo suggests. The place was closed but I asked if I could just take a couple of shots. I was in before they had a chance to respond. I was already shooting when they asked me to leave, to which I said “I’ll be happy to leave.” Then as I was taking a shot of the place outside, one of the women came out and said “sir, please don’t do that.” I told her she couldn’t stop me. She went right back in.
The extra “i” was added in so they could call themselves “O’Nieals.” Really…how low-rent can you get? At least they got the apostrophe right.
She’s thinking about what? About actually sampling one of the normal sexual activities that everyone with normal drives experiences fairly routinely? This is seemingly the big thing about Hope Springs — a story about a couple that hasn’t lived all that fully. Tommy Lee Jones just wants to hug and roll over and go to sleep, and Meryl Streep wants him to be the gamekeeper in Lady Chatterly’s Lover. Where can a story like this realistically go?
