Sunday/Sunday Night: A little while after receiving the texts Hipster and I decided to get up and get some brunch. We walked over to a diner which is apparently the most famous in Brooklyn. We stood in line again for about 20 minutes waiting to get a table. Luckily his other roommate had lent me some knee-high wool socks (which I have since kept) so I wasn't quite as freezing as the night before. Half-way through brunch we determind that we could possibly still be drunk, especially when we both began laughing hysterically about my window antics earlier that morning. After brunch I decided to truck it home since I hadn't been since Friday evening, and was still wearing the same clothes. Sick. Once home I collapsed into my bed.
Once awake a few hours later I decided that it was a three-day weekend and why stop here. I decided to creep the ibanker. He offered a movie, which changed to dinner, which changed to dinner at his place then out. I found this out at the last minute so had to take a sidetrip to Ditmars on my way to the subway and ran into the first Greek bakery I found. I had no idea what to bring so I went with a classic standby--baklava. I ordered while trying to win over the mean Greek lady at the counter. I may have since she smiled at me as I paid or it might have been because I wildy over-ordered. That freaking box of baklava must have weighed 18 pounds.
I made it to Union Square relatively on time and met ibanker on his way from the store. He informed me that his roommate and his exgirlfriend would be joining us as well. I was immediately terrified--I had to sit through a whole dinner with the drunk, delirious child?? But once inside my worries were alleviated--he is completely different when sober. Instead of what I expected I found a well-mannered, socialable man-child. Much more pleasant. And ibanker turned out to be a ridic cook, which was very surprising. I had pictured him never going near a kitchen, unless it was to tell the chef what he wanted to eat that night. Dinner was jovial--ibanker and roommate recounted stories from their college days (all of them had gone to school together...a small, private school in Western MA...I tried not to feel out of place). Afterwards we attempted to eat the baklava but could only get through 2 pieces. Then on to apples to apples, one of my fav games. I think it was mostly because we needed the time to drink the 8 (yes 8, for 4 people) bottles of wine ibanker had purchased. And drank them we did--ibanker and I were the only ones to make it out to the bar.
A place called Back Fences (?) in the East Village (?). Ibanker raved about it the entire way there but I thought it was pretty mediocre, a place with peanut shells on the ground and a guy on stage with an acoustic guitar. We met a group of his ibanker friends who were already there. They were sitting at the VIP table, which in a place like this was a giant picnic table with a checkered plastic table cloth sectioned off from the rest of the bar. It was pretty hilarious. Then the rounds of shots started. It's like they had to show each other up. Before I knew it the whole table was singing along to Wonderwall and I decided I was going to have a 'tude--I sat there not singing and rolling my eyes. Such a charming date. Someone noticed it had started snowing out and ibanker decided that he wanted everyone to head back to his apartment to continue drinking on the rooftop. Which is what led me to standing in the snow, with a plastic cup full of wine, with the National blaring from the speakers that had been brought up. I kept telling ibanker that my hair was getting wet and he kept answering "don't worry it's just snow", which made perfect sense. I eventually went inside to the bathroom to see what I could do about my soaking wet hair and when I came out a few minutes later apparently everyone had left. I munched on some baklava and next thing I knew I was waking up in ibanker's bed, both of us fully-clothed (he even had his shoes on) on top of the covers. I then got up and trucked it back to work, relatively on time. And there it is--epic weekend. I think part of me still hasn't recovered.
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