American thespian and unrepentant drunk Tracy Morgan continues to be a personal hero. All the shitty Queens shooting articles that Times outer borough Metro reporter Michael Wilson had to write finally paid off when he got to spend a night out with Mr. Morgan at Benihana's and write it up in the high-paying Styles section (as opposed to the penurious word rates of Metro) Best nugget from a long night of Sake bombs? “I’m walking around my family with an ankle bracelet,” he said. “For me, that was rock bottom.” Then he poured sake for my bomb — “It’s bad luck to pour your own,” he said — and plop! Into the beer it dropped, and the night began."
More after the jump.
What followed was part stand-up routine and part attempts at seduction. He was coming off a hard year that, besides the bracelet, included accusations from a Florida D.J. that he had groped her. She dropped the complaint and Mr. Morgan was never charged, the police said. But if the stress of 2007 mellowed Mr. Morgan, 39, it didn’t show. He acted the host, ordering for the communal table, keeping the sake bombs dropping and dispensing unsolicited tips to strangers. On child-rearing: “I intimidate them because I walk around buck naked.” To a tourist family: “Walk slow and drink a lot of water.” To someone on a cellphone handed to him by the family: “When you see me on the street, act like you know me.”
Later Morgan showed us exactly how one approaches women. Watch out Neil Strauss. The Real Deal is here.
"He zeroed in on a woman in her 20s. “You look like a young Whitney Houston,” he said. “Before Bobby.” And: “You won’t catch me on ‘To Catch a Predator.’ I like grown women.” She would not look up, and he inquired if she, too, would bear his next child, even ordering one to spec: “You know our daughter. Ten pounds, 8 ounces, and she’s going to your house when she starts crying.” He told her: “Why don’t you give me some love? You treat me like Space Ghost.” Finally, she laughed.
