We continued this on the subway up to Chelsea, after happy hour had died down. Pretty much every statement we made involved on of the two, and every time we would all cackle like the slightly drunk people we were. Example: "Maybe he would like you if you stopped sharting all the time" and "Pound Town? Is that Upstate?" This got even further out of hand when the bar we went to had crayons and a paper table cloth in our booth. You better believe that tablecloth did not stay blank for long.
Unfortunately it was approaching 11:45, our entrance time for Sleep No More, so JM and I had to bid goodbye to Prom and GF. It was too rainy to get a cab so we were forced to walk to the far end of the West Side, to the old hotel in which the play would take place. We were a little bit soaked and I grew even grumpier when the annoying couple in front of us kept making out. That is only acceptable in Europe! Now the premise of this "play" is as follows: It is set in an old hotel. There are multiple floors with many rooms, each one with tons of shit in it. You are allowed to go through the shit and touch what you want, provided you do not speak for the entire two hours and wear a white mask. There are assorted actors running around, performing different pieces with each other. They also don't speak. It is loosely based on Macbeth. NY Mag explains it better: http://nymag.com/listings/theater/sleep-no-more/
It sounds insane but really it's true that it's awesome. There is so much detail in each room and there are also graveyards, an old hospital and old-timey looking bars. You can choose which actors you want to follow around. I saw a fight scene, a poisoning scene, a naked guy and a naked girl. I also at one point had a random guy come up to me and put his arm around me. I shooed him away and it was then that I think he realized that I wasn't actually his date. After wandering around for the time alloted, JM being more preoccupied with the decor and me with the story, we were separated but both ended up in the ballroom for the grand finale, where (spoiler alert) there is a mild orgy scene and a guy hangs himself. You can have a totally different experience from someone else and I if the tickets weren't $90 I would totally go back.
The next night I had couldn't have been more different. I met Russian Rocher out in Alphabet City at Drop Off Service, a bar I had been wanting to go to. She had left some friends behind at Pyramid Club, where we were scheduled to go later in the night, but it hadn't picked up yet. We were meaning to just go for a drink but we got totally sidetracked by a bouncer standing in front of an unmarked door. We decided to see what was behind it, especially when he turned two other girls away. For some reason he did not do this to us, and we emerged into a Cuban-style speakeasy. We sat for much too long, sipping expensive specialty drinks until we realized Russian Rocher's friends had been waiting for us at Pyramid Bar for quite awhile. We headed back over and I immediately did not like the place. It had been a popular bar back in the 80s and was now 80s themed. The main resemblance I could tell was that the clientele looked like the freaks at table 9 from the Wedding Singer. A bunch of old creepers with quite a few overweight lesbians thrown in for good measure. Even the 80s music couldn't lift my mood and it certainly didn't improve when some guy spilled his drink on me. I half-heartedly danced around for a bit and was relieved when people decided to head out.
I was set to go to another bar but the concensus was to call it a night, so I power-walked through the East Village down to the Lower East Side, trying to catch a cab (b/c once again, my subway line wasn't running). It was proving to be impossible and I was basically to the Williamsburg bridge before I spotted one. I sprinted over to it, and as I was opening the door I heard yelling. I looked up and a guy and a girl were running towards me waving their arms. I shrugged and dove into the backseat anyway. I heard the guy start to yell that I was a bitch and looked up to see them knocking at the window. The girl was trying to shush him and asked if I was going to Bushwick. I told them that we could share the cab, provided he stopped yelling obscenities at me. They got in and I noticed how wasted they were. He was also French, not surprisingly. They were also weird as shit but they soon became my bff's and even invited me to a party with them (I politely declined). The swearing French man even ended up paying for the whole cab ride when they got off at their stop. An interesting turnaround.
The cab driver had been paying attention to what was going on and said that he had seen me first and that the guy seemed like a huge asshole. I informed him that it was probably because he was French, but he argued that it was because "he seemed like a Jew". Ehhhhh. I nervously said that I thought it was because he was French and that I had dated an asshole French guy. The cab driver then asked me if I had ever tried Russian, then proceeded to tell me that he was Russian (hint hint). I sulkily replied that I hated all guys at the moment (I had just gotten no response from a booty call text I had sent to Law School Bro...fail). The cab driver's response to this: "Well, you could always try girls". He then laughed heartily. Luckily we were at my apartment, so I thanked him and hopped out. By far my most interesting cab ride in NYC to date.
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