"Are We Really Here??"

It is a rite of passage living in NYC that one must attend a truly ridiculous party. I had yet to attend a jaw-dropping fete, but this particular night put an end to that. My connection to it was of course Polish Princess. It was being hosted by one of her friends, who had started some sort of internet venture and got rich quick. She had told me that these were some of the best parties she had ever been to and while getting ready for it I was basically doing the bathroom dance with excitement. Or from the fact that I had drank a couple beers while doing my hair and really had to go to the bathroom. Either way, I finished up and headed over to GF's to pick him up. I knew this was something he could not miss out on and I needed a partner in crime. We arrived outside the Soho apartment building to find that Polish Princess was not answering her phone. We went into the bar across the street and had a drink. Some time passed and we were worried, but finally she came through and told us to walk in and give the doorman the host's name. His instructions were merely, take the back elevator to 9. We figured we would hear the noise from the apartment and upon entering the elevator found that 9 was really PH. Of course. The doors opened and we were directly in the apartment. There were silver balloons everywhere and the music was thumping. We rounded the corner to discover a giant white room, with floor to ceiling windows, filled with some of the most attractive people I have ever seen. GF grabbed my arm tightly and hissed, "Look where we are right now, are we really here??". I barely heard him as I was trying to figure out if the balcony outside wrapped all the way around the apartment (it did). The penthouse also contained four bedrooms and four full bathrooms. No waiting in line for me! We found Polish Princess in her huge heels and flowy skirt. She introduced us to a friend and led the three of us to the sangria she had made for the occasion. She promptly disappeared into the crowd and I filled my cup up with this potent nectar of the gods. We decided we obviously needed to check out the balcony so the two of us (plus new friend) headed out. It was filled with more beautiful people and as we stood there drinking, I tried not to drool over a deliciously tan Swedish man. A good part of the night was spent there chatting with randos. I would occasionally head back into to use (and also sit for awhile and take it all in) one of the many bathrooms, chat with Polish Princess and friends and refill my cup. I decided to make another trip when GF started a politcal debate with another party-goer and new friend had become a little obnoxious. I made my way to the sangria bowl, where a group of guys was standing. I politely pushed in between them. One turned to me and used the line "You're really pretty". As I was fairly well-sauced, I thanked him and began to chat. We introduced ourselves and using my drunken reasoning skills decided to say (while sloshing punch over the side of my cup):
"Your name is Chase"? My name is ____. If we put them together our celebrity couple name would be Lace!"
Once again, well done me. He bought it though and proceeded to keep chatting with me, even making jokes about the paparazzi. I was skeptical though, as he was ANOTHER blonde ibanker (the third). But we were having a good time until I felt a sinister presence behind me. I turned to find annoying new friend who immediately stepped in between the two of us and started chatting up Lace. Was she for real? I watched for a minute annoyed. I headed to the bathroom where Polish Princess pulled me in and we had a heart to heart about her upcoming move to LA. When we emerged Lace was waiting for me. He led me outside, through a gigantic room filled with 4 Mac computers, onto another part of the balcony. There the two of us stood nine stories over Soho, chatting. I felt that there could be a kiss coming on until I looked at my phone and discovered 4 missed calls and 3 texts from GF--a sketchy guy had offered him some coke and if we stayed any longer he would be tempted to do it. Not wanting to ditch GF (I was staying there that night) I bid Lace goodbye, grabbed some sangria for the road and GF and I made an Irish Exit. What a party.

The next morning GF and I were up by 9am, which wasn't working out so well for me. But we had plans to go to Rockaway Beach and I was determined to be in a bathing suit that weekend, especially since my Hamptons invite hadn't worked out (story to come). We grabbed McDonalds breakfast, which was a fitting meal for where we were headed. We then settled onto the subway for our hour-long ride to the end of the C train. I cuddled up in my towel and GF and I had a heart to heart about how we are probably too nice for New York--we don't want to dick people over to get ahead. Once we arrived we were pleased to discover that yes some of the people there were pretty trashy, but many of them weren't. And the beach was big enough so that it wasn't too crowded. We ran through the burning hot sand, chose our spot and rolled out our towels. Once laying down in the hot sun I began to feel even more hungover than I had before. I laid in misery for a few minutes then headed towards the water. It was freezing and amazing. I stood knee-deep in it and immediately felt better. GF followed and informed we were going swimming. We tried to head out but the waves were so big that we kept getting pushed back. I was too weak to fight and was repeatedly bitch-slapped. One even knocked me right on my ass and almost ripped off my bathing suit bottoms. GF's laughing motivated me to keep trying and I finally made it out to where I could swim. Up to this point it is probably the most fun I've had this summer. I hadn't been swimming since Switzerland last summer nor in saltwater since the Balkan European country and I had missed it. We stayed for the afternoon, swimming around, jumping the waves and cracking up when people were hit by them. At one point GF made a winning comment when a fat lady almost crashed into him--"Now I know how that iceberg felt when the Titanic hit it!".

Unfortunately his Irish ass was starting to get sunburned so decided to call it a day. While packing up I received a text from Lace saying "Well that last text was embarrassing". This was a follow up to this, which he had left me at 4:30am, after we had left the party:
"Feel like Lace could tear it up right now. Best of classics (you) and hip hop (me)...yep you missed my moves"
GF and I had had a heart attack over this when we read it earlier that morning. Rightfully so. Once back in the City we grabbed some food and a beer at a local Lower East Side bar but I cut it short when we spotted a cockroach scurrying across the floor. We went back to his place I showered, grabbed my stuff and instead of heading home, headed to Williamsburg to meet up with Polish Princess. We were both exhausted and debated not going out but her friends had put together a little reunion at a Hell's Kitchen bar to bid her goodbye. It was an interesting mix of people--good friends from college and people she had used to work with, including a few who she had fallen out of touch with since they had grown a bit shady. One of these was a bleached blonde girl named Yolanda who, when I told her I was looking for a job, offered to put in a good word for me at the Hustler club, where she worked as a coatcheck girl. I'm still waiting for my call. The bar was also awesome as of course one of Polish Princess's friends owned it and we drank for free all night. The shot list took up two walls and I had heard of almost none. I did get to witness one called the Harry Potter shot (the movie had just come out) which involved the bartender wearing the hat, reciting a spell and lighting the shots on fire with a blowtorch. Amazing. We were both tired though so PP and I headed back fairly early to go to sleep. In the morning we grabbed brunch and then wandered around Williamsburg for the afternoon going to flea markets. I finally returned back to Queens (my last full weekend in that apartment) a full 48 hours after I had left it.