After my terrible return to New York City, I was able to leave again but not for anything fun. I was relieved. The last thing I needed in my life was more fun. I had about 2 weeks of work trips for conferences--the first to Chicago and the second in Boston. I had never been able to travel for work before and I felt very professional, despite how I act on weekends. So a couple days later, I had to forsake going out on a Friday night so that I could catch a 7am flight the next morning. I had been to Chicago once before a couple years ago for St. Patrick's Day. Except I didn't get to see much of the city, since my friend BK and I had drank too much cheap gin the second night there and couldn't drag ourselves out of bed for the festivities since we were too busy puking. This trip proved to be the exact opposite. I did nothing but work for four days and at night holed myself up in my hotel room, reading or eating room service in my bathing suit. I went out to dinner one night with my boss and her hilarious gay friend but that was pretty much the only socializing I did, aside from the last night.
I was ready to be out in the world again and eager to see some of the city, since our hotel was in an area with nothing else around it. So I decided to go out with Chi Friend. He was the only person I knew in Chicago and knew was a loose term. He was the guy I had met a couple months earlier at JM's friend's apartment in Williamsburg. I didn't actually expect to hang out with him but we had exchanged a couple messages on facebook and I was ready to have anyone show me around really.
He gave me instructions on how to get to the Wicker Park neighborhood on the El train, so I of course hopped in a cab and expensed the whole thing. It was a bit strange basically meeting a complete stranger but I just started to blab about god knows what as we walked to a nearby bar. We sat outside on the patio at my insistence, even though it was roughly 255 degrees outside. We chatted about things, such as how he wants to move to New York and the different neighborhoods of Chicago. He was a total hipster and we were apparently in a pretty hipster area, and about to migrate to a complete hipster neighborhood, when we took the train up to Logan Square. We walked to a brewery/bar he had talked about and I felt like I was back in Bushwick. I definitely stood out in my green sundress and Michael Kors sandals but I had had a few beers and did not give a shit. All of the beer taps at this place were different colored fists and I was having a hard time deciding which to get. As I made an assessment I said to him "I bet the black one is really dark beer". He looked relieved and said "I thought you were about to say something bad like 'I bet the black one doesn't like to work a lot'". I then died and decided that this guy was awesome in my book. We then opened up and exchanged some more personal stories. My favorite from him was how he went home with a girl his first week in Chicago when he was really wasted. She had to leave for class (yes class) the next morning so after she was gone he threw up all over her room. After he had cleaned it up he got lost on the subway going home. When he finally figured out his way, he had to get off the train and walk the rest of the way home because he was too sick. He started to cry and then threw up on the sidewalk before stumbling into his apartment. Classic.
Our final stop was a bar where you got a free pizza with a beer, much like Crocodile Lounge in NYC, but much nicer. I was pretty drunk at this point, laughing loudly at everything and having a grand old time. He didn't seem to mind but I had my guard up in case he tried to take me home. After beer/pizza we both decided to split the Jameson ice cream, which was so strong that I needed to chase each bite with water. Probably the last thing I needed before my early flight back to New York the next morning. Because of this I had to call it a night early, which may have saved me. Luckily he didn't try any moves and I'm sure he had his own agenda since he knew I had to go back early. I found out a couple months later that he is kind of a player and a liar (he claimed that night he had only done coke once but he was apparently a cokehead back in the day, he also said he barely knew JM's friend but they had grown up together in Michigan) but he showed me a good time that night, so water under the bridge.
I spent the next day flying back to New York and then doing my laundry at home. I had one day at work and then the next day we were leaving for our conference in Boston. My one day back at work turned out to be pretty much a joke. We worked for half the day and then it was time for the annual Sales and Marketing Department boat outing. That's right, a sailing trip on the Hudson River. I was pumped. Unfortunately my boss and coworker absolutely love to just work work work because they both have husbands that are never around and weren't as excited as me for the boat trip. In fact we almost didn't go because they thought that we have too much work in between the conferences. I was appalled but luckily it was mandatory and we all had to go. So off to the sailboat we went, in company polos that we were forced to wear that made us look like Best Buy employees. We set sail on the boat and I slowly started to get nauseous. FML. All I wanted was this boat trip and now I felt like I was going to vom in front of everyone. And I was stuck on the crappy side of the boat with the weirdos from Data Processing. They soon got into a heated discussion about whether aliens were real and I took that as my cue to teeter carefully to the other side of the boat where cooler people were sitting. I plopped down next to my Work Friend and concentrated on not vomming for the rest of the ride.
Luckily there was food and drinks waiting for us all at the Frying Pan when we disembarked and I immediately felt better. We had our own private section of this boat bar and we weren't there 15 minutes when the Sales team decided to start an impromptu flip cup game. I was pleased as we all know I love flip cup, but I knew I couldn't get too out of control since this was a work function. We played a few rounds, and I was awesome, as I always am. This surprised a lot of people since I tend to be very quiet in the workplace and not reveal my real personality. I'm sure the whole Sales department thinks I am a huge nerd, or at least did until my flip cup victories. There was another company work function at the other end of the boat bar also playing flip cup and they challenged us to a game. I was one of the ones selected for the "dream team" due to my skill and we beat them easily. Apparently my big boss was very impressed with my performance and I later caught two of the Sales guys impersonating me playing--they would flip the cup on the first try and then yell out different library terms like "proximity operator" and "boolean searching" and smack the table.
There was a small break and that is when I spotted him--my old roommate. There was another private party at the front of the bar, filled with a bunch of weirdos and he was actually part of it. He looked like a ginger Michael Moore wearing a baseball cap and a blazer. His red hair had gotten longer and he had chunked out big time but it was definitely him. I'm sure he must have spotted me as well but we didn't say a word to each other. The last time I had seen him was the summer before, exactly a year ago, when I had thrown my keys at his face and left that godforsaken living situation for good. So we weren't exactly on good terms but true to creeper form, I had recently discovered him creeping my Linkedin profile. It was jarring to see him out, as bad as seeing an ex, but it made me feel better to think how far I had come since escaping him. I was now working a real person job and going out drinking with coworkers, just like everyone else in New York.
Flip cup had resumed and this time my boss and big boss joined in. Things were getting rowdy and beer was everywhere. My Work Friend would scream "That was money!" every time the big boss flipped the cup and my actual boss was pretty wasted. So wasted in fact that at one point she screamed "You trash-talking mother fucker!" to the big boss. I got to witness that and also bond with most of the Sales team, who I hadn't really known before. And since we were leaving for Boston, I didn't have to face any of them at work the next day!
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Shit Hits the Fan
Every once in awhile I get sick of New York. I go through a few-day stage where I just hate the city and wonder why I ever moved here. It then passes after a good night out or a successful shopping trip. I hadn't had this happen since I had moved into Manhattan. I had been having fun going out and being in the midst of things. But now that I was two months in, this feeling was about to hit me and hit me hard. I had been going out way too much and was exhausted. It was also roughly 125 degrees in the City and I was sweating constantly. The 4th of July was the culmination of it. I made the mistake of going out the night before, with Atl and GF. We were set on having a big night, and those nights usually end up the worst. We headed to Ludlow Manor, but couldn't get up to the rooftop because of a private party. We had a couple drinks and then headed across the street to Hotel Chantelle. I hadn't been since the fateful night things ended with Ibanker and it had since turned into a total scene and was no longer that cool. We had another couple drinks but then quickly grew bored. We wandered around the Lower East Side, stopping for terrible 99 cent pizza. We then decided to go into the nearest bar, which turned out to be packed to the brim with hipsters. There was a jukebox in the corner and we all spent about 15 minutes choosing our songs before realizing that it was unplugged. We sat at the bar drinking PBRs and asked a nearby hipster to take our picture. He was actually friendly and he and his friend started chatting with us. Atl and GF went outside to smoke and I was left with the hipsters who rapid fired questions at me. I answered right on cue and at the end of it they told me that they did this to people all the time but I had been the best out of everyone. Winning.
After, since we didn't know what else to do, we let GF persuade us to go to a gay bar in the West Village. Mistake on our part. There was a huge line out front, so while he waited in it Atl and I headed to another bar around the corner to pee. It turns out that this was a Russian bar and it was karaoke night. There was a large Russian man with the microphone in hand, singing along to the Cyrillic letters streaming across the screen. I loved the whole thing and would've stayed to watch but needed to attend to GF. Once we made it through the line, we found out it was also karaoke night at the gay bar. And so did the rest of New York City, since the bar was ridiculously crowded with sweaty dudes. We squeezed ourselves into a corner and signed up to sing Real McCoy's Another Night, but the wait time was over an hour and Atl and I had had enough. We dipped out leaving GF to chat with the new friend he had made in line.
The next day I was extremely hungover, which is a complete waste if the night before wasn't very good. So I was already in a bad mood and it was once again 175 degrees outside. Our 4th of July plans weren't solidified, which also annoyed me. Eventually they were made--go to Boat Basin with GA, her boyfriend and her boyfriend's friend who allegedly had a table. So I squeezed into my jeggings, which were the only bottoms that matched the patriotically-striped shirt I wanted to wear. MISTAKE. As soon as I stepped outside they were soaked through with sweat and also extremely tight, since I was starting to gain weight from all the drinking. We trucked up to Boat Basin, which was on the Upper West Side (aka not at all close to our apartment) which was packed with sweaty people and there was no free table to be found. We stood around miserably for awhile and drank and I descended into a terrible mood that I couldn't shake. All I wanted to do for the 4th of July was something suburban--sit in a backyard, eat bbq and drink water. I was sick of having to go to bars and drink whenever I wanted to do something social. I wanted air conditioning and a big comfortable apartment, with cable tv. This is not part of my life in NYC and I was getting sick of it. I needed a break big time. The rest of our day consisted of trucking to Meatpacking to meet up with Russian Rocher, when GF and I could no longer take Boat Basin. We grabbed burgers in an unairconditioned fast food place and finally decided to go to the Thompson Hotel, to the rooftop there. We actually snagged a table by some miracle and by then it had cooled to 115 degrees, so the temperature was much more pleasant. We sat and waited for the fireworks to start, even though none of us was very excited for them. Though we were all annoyed when, when they started, a pack of 8 feet tall Swedish tourists squeezed their way in front of us. MY country's celebration, not yours. After the show, we all just headed home, I think all relieved that the day was finally over.
I was also very relieved that I would be getting a break from New York for the next month or so. I was going to be out of town quite a bit, first for a weekend in the Cuse then work trips to Chicago and Boston, and finally my big vaca plans to San Francisco and Mexico City. In fact, I left a couple days later for the Cuse trip, to see Mouth, who was in town from Arizona, and also pregnant. I hadn't seen her since her wedding the previous summer and it was nice to hang out with her, though weird that we were now officially adults (her pregnancy solidifying this). I spent the weekend doing suburban things, like hang out in Mouth's backyard and driving around in an air conditioned car. I also disgusted my parents with the nasty cough I had developed from my party lifestyle in New York.
I was also in town for bleaker reasons. This was going to be my last trip staying in the house where I had grown up. My mother was leaving my father and moving to North Carolina, and the house had been sold. After this trip, I felt like I would no longer have a home nor a family. This all hit me when I was packing up my stuff to leave and walked out for the last time. I met my dad in the garage and immediately burst into tears. This continued on the drive to the bus station and I spent the bus ride listening to emo songs on my ipod, with tears sliding down my cheeks. A sampling from my playlist: Lykke Li- Possibility, Grizzly Bear- Slow Life, and finally, Iron & Wine- Such Great Heights. (These were also the songs I played on repeat for about two weeks after Ibanker). So needless to say, I was a goddamned mess and super out of it when I got off the bus in Port Authority. I debated taking a cab but I wanted to try and save money so I opted for the subway. As I walked up a bunch of people were walking out through the emergency exit. A guy held the door for me and I hesitated for a second and then decided to go through without swiping my card. I have never done this in New York and of course the one time, plainclothes police greeted me on the other side. I stood there miserably while they checked to see if I had a warrant (do I look like I would have an effing warrant??). I also watched a mother and her child walk through and nothing was done. They wrote me a ticket, which I was expecting. What I didn't expect was the ridiculous amount--$125. I was pissed and on the verge of tears again, and when I walked down to my platform, I discovered my line wasn't even running that night. So I went up to take a cab which I should've just fucking done in the first place. I walked a couple blocks to find one and on the way tripped over a grate in the sidewalk and broke my sandal (my fave pair). I finally spotted one, and dove in, where I immediately burst into tears again. I sent an emergency text to Mairey who called me right back and talked me off the ledge.
I had just returned to New York and I was already ready to leave. Luckily, I would be getting my much-needed break soon.
After, since we didn't know what else to do, we let GF persuade us to go to a gay bar in the West Village. Mistake on our part. There was a huge line out front, so while he waited in it Atl and I headed to another bar around the corner to pee. It turns out that this was a Russian bar and it was karaoke night. There was a large Russian man with the microphone in hand, singing along to the Cyrillic letters streaming across the screen. I loved the whole thing and would've stayed to watch but needed to attend to GF. Once we made it through the line, we found out it was also karaoke night at the gay bar. And so did the rest of New York City, since the bar was ridiculously crowded with sweaty dudes. We squeezed ourselves into a corner and signed up to sing Real McCoy's Another Night, but the wait time was over an hour and Atl and I had had enough. We dipped out leaving GF to chat with the new friend he had made in line.
The next day I was extremely hungover, which is a complete waste if the night before wasn't very good. So I was already in a bad mood and it was once again 175 degrees outside. Our 4th of July plans weren't solidified, which also annoyed me. Eventually they were made--go to Boat Basin with GA, her boyfriend and her boyfriend's friend who allegedly had a table. So I squeezed into my jeggings, which were the only bottoms that matched the patriotically-striped shirt I wanted to wear. MISTAKE. As soon as I stepped outside they were soaked through with sweat and also extremely tight, since I was starting to gain weight from all the drinking. We trucked up to Boat Basin, which was on the Upper West Side (aka not at all close to our apartment) which was packed with sweaty people and there was no free table to be found. We stood around miserably for awhile and drank and I descended into a terrible mood that I couldn't shake. All I wanted to do for the 4th of July was something suburban--sit in a backyard, eat bbq and drink water. I was sick of having to go to bars and drink whenever I wanted to do something social. I wanted air conditioning and a big comfortable apartment, with cable tv. This is not part of my life in NYC and I was getting sick of it. I needed a break big time. The rest of our day consisted of trucking to Meatpacking to meet up with Russian Rocher, when GF and I could no longer take Boat Basin. We grabbed burgers in an unairconditioned fast food place and finally decided to go to the Thompson Hotel, to the rooftop there. We actually snagged a table by some miracle and by then it had cooled to 115 degrees, so the temperature was much more pleasant. We sat and waited for the fireworks to start, even though none of us was very excited for them. Though we were all annoyed when, when they started, a pack of 8 feet tall Swedish tourists squeezed their way in front of us. MY country's celebration, not yours. After the show, we all just headed home, I think all relieved that the day was finally over.
I was also very relieved that I would be getting a break from New York for the next month or so. I was going to be out of town quite a bit, first for a weekend in the Cuse then work trips to Chicago and Boston, and finally my big vaca plans to San Francisco and Mexico City. In fact, I left a couple days later for the Cuse trip, to see Mouth, who was in town from Arizona, and also pregnant. I hadn't seen her since her wedding the previous summer and it was nice to hang out with her, though weird that we were now officially adults (her pregnancy solidifying this). I spent the weekend doing suburban things, like hang out in Mouth's backyard and driving around in an air conditioned car. I also disgusted my parents with the nasty cough I had developed from my party lifestyle in New York.
I was also in town for bleaker reasons. This was going to be my last trip staying in the house where I had grown up. My mother was leaving my father and moving to North Carolina, and the house had been sold. After this trip, I felt like I would no longer have a home nor a family. This all hit me when I was packing up my stuff to leave and walked out for the last time. I met my dad in the garage and immediately burst into tears. This continued on the drive to the bus station and I spent the bus ride listening to emo songs on my ipod, with tears sliding down my cheeks. A sampling from my playlist: Lykke Li- Possibility, Grizzly Bear- Slow Life, and finally, Iron & Wine- Such Great Heights. (These were also the songs I played on repeat for about two weeks after Ibanker). So needless to say, I was a goddamned mess and super out of it when I got off the bus in Port Authority. I debated taking a cab but I wanted to try and save money so I opted for the subway. As I walked up a bunch of people were walking out through the emergency exit. A guy held the door for me and I hesitated for a second and then decided to go through without swiping my card. I have never done this in New York and of course the one time, plainclothes police greeted me on the other side. I stood there miserably while they checked to see if I had a warrant (do I look like I would have an effing warrant??). I also watched a mother and her child walk through and nothing was done. They wrote me a ticket, which I was expecting. What I didn't expect was the ridiculous amount--$125. I was pissed and on the verge of tears again, and when I walked down to my platform, I discovered my line wasn't even running that night. So I went up to take a cab which I should've just fucking done in the first place. I walked a couple blocks to find one and on the way tripped over a grate in the sidewalk and broke my sandal (my fave pair). I finally spotted one, and dove in, where I immediately burst into tears again. I sent an emergency text to Mairey who called me right back and talked me off the ledge.
I had just returned to New York and I was already ready to leave. Luckily, I would be getting my much-needed break soon.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Mel Mel Puff
One Thursday, it was shortly before the end of my work day when I received a text from Charlie Kelly. He said that he had an extra ticket to see a Sublime cover band on a booze cruise that night. Actually, in a couple hours. Usually I am not one to like a last-minute, hastily put together plan, and this was clearly a desperation invite, since someone had probably bailed at the last minute. But I decided that I would go anyway since I had no other plans for my night, besides standing over my kitchen sink eating an entire carton of blueberries.
So a couple of hours later, I met Charlie Kelly at the same pier where I had met the Playboy on the booze cruise a couple of months earlier. And I of course once again brought my sailor hat to wear at an appropriate moment. The passengers on this cruise were... interesting. In other words, there were quite a few slonkeys. Not surprisingly since this was a Sublime cover band after all. We sat on the upper deck for awhile, to escape the crowd inside. Charlie Kelly pounded drinks like they were water but I knew I had to take it easy, since I had to work the next morning. I'm sure he was not very pleased with me since in lieu of paying for this ticket I was supposed to buy him drinks. However I was unaware that the boat was cash only and he was forced to pay for all of ours. He did not let his annoyance show though and after a few we took some scenic shots of us in my sailor hat in front of the Statue of Liberty. We then headed downstairs to watch the band, where I'm sure my lack of enthusiasm was apparent.
Afterwards Charlie Kelly wanted to keep drinking, and since it wasn't that late I agreed. We headed to the Lower East Side, since he was going to be meeting some friends there later. He had been talking up how cool this place A Lounge was, so we headed there. We entered to this scene: absolutely no one in the place except two guys at a booth in the corner, both on their cell phones. On the small stage at the end of the room was the most ridiculous performer I had ever seen. She was dressed in a Lady Gaga-esque outfit, of bright neon and embellishments everywhere. There were props on the stage around her, with smoke billowing and a girl taking her picture every few minutes. She was singing along to electronic-type music. The bartender was laughing and looked grateful to have us there. Charlie Kelly took his drink, lowered his sunglasses and started dancing around. The singer loved this and when her song ended (which she had introduced as going viral) she screamed that her name was Melody Joy aka "Mel Mel Puff" and told the bartender to get us some shots. Charlie Kelly danced through her next few songs, one of which was called "Why You Mad Bro" and I stood entranced at what was going on around me. Here is a sampling: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBfY_ahDzoU
After her performance she and her friend came over to greet us. We thanked her for the shots and she thanked us for coming out to see her. She turned out to be from Pittsburgh and was now trying to make it big in New York. She was actually very nice and normal to talk to and even let me try on her boondoggle sunglasses! She also seemed to take an interest in Charlie Kelly which I chuckled at. They had to pack up and head out thought and we did the same. We grabbed another beer at the bar next door and I then I headed home before the friends showed up and I made a night of it.
Making a night of it would be for a couple nights later. On my recent trip back to Syracuse I had run into a family friend at Port Authority. He was heading back to Cuse as well and he saved me from having to sit next to a smelly fatty on the bus. He also shared half his sandwich with me and we had amusing convos. For this I had scored an invite to his bday party, which was being held this particular Saturday. I took Atl along for company. He lived in Chinatown and apparently had his own rooftop. This was correct and was huuuge, and almost right next to the Manhattan Bridge. In the corner he had set up a grilling station and some lawn chairs. I had joked to him that I was going to bring some boxed wine with me, but I had no idea how difficult it would be to find. Like it's a precious commodity or something. So I settled with Sutter Home and drank that while he grilled up some food for us. Every 5-7 min the R train would speed by on the bridge and Atl and I amused ourselves by waving to the people on the tour buses.
We ate a delish meal and Fam Friend regaled us with stories of living in Chinatown--how the old ladies in his stairwell always glared at him and how he had never seen so many people spit in his life. We also told him about our favorite phrase "swamp donkey" aka slonkey and we all discussed that for awhile. After eating more guests arrived and I hit the Sutter Home pretty hard. Not such a good idea, it turns out. We had plans to head to a bar in the LES which I called the Roach Bar, as I had seen a giant roach there with GF last summer. We all trucked through Chinatown to get there. My memories here are a bit fuzzy. I know Atl and another girl ran to a bodega to buy Fam Friend a bday pre-packaged muffin. We all took a shot. He then made friends with a larger black girl and Atl began to yell "boob shot, boob shot". It happened, followed by the most ridiculous group picture where Atl is basically holding me up. I know we stayed for awhile, I know I eventually grew bored and ended up texting with....the Playboy. We had been texting the past few weekends but hadn't met up. I hadn't seen him in probably a month, so this seemed like the perfect night, when I was blackout drunk.
I persuaded Atl to leave and I hope I said bye to Fam Friend. I'm sure he was less than impressed with me, since I was too drunk to be any fun, let alone social. Ehhh. I had our cab drop me off at Playboy's apartment. I stumbled up to the entryway (thank god the doorman wasn't there) and tried to ring his bell. Except I was very drunk and must have been pushing the wrong button, multiple times. A few minutes later, a mean-looking old man appeared in the doorway. He asked what I was doing there and who I was there to see. I ignored him and tried to make my way through the door. He was having none of it and pushed the door shut in my face. What a dick. I finally had to call the Playboy so he could come down and let my drunk ass in. I had a good chuckle about what had happened, but he was less amused, because he has no sense of humor whatsoever. Even in my state, I once again refused to have sex with him and then promptly passed out after making out for awhile.
In the morning I was disoriented and not feeling great, obviously. I tried to sneak out without waking him but that was a fail. We had some strained convo while I got dressed and then I saw myself out. Luckily I didn't run into the mean old man. Besides the playboy I had just left! Not my finest showing in New York, but what can you do.
So a couple of hours later, I met Charlie Kelly at the same pier where I had met the Playboy on the booze cruise a couple of months earlier. And I of course once again brought my sailor hat to wear at an appropriate moment. The passengers on this cruise were... interesting. In other words, there were quite a few slonkeys. Not surprisingly since this was a Sublime cover band after all. We sat on the upper deck for awhile, to escape the crowd inside. Charlie Kelly pounded drinks like they were water but I knew I had to take it easy, since I had to work the next morning. I'm sure he was not very pleased with me since in lieu of paying for this ticket I was supposed to buy him drinks. However I was unaware that the boat was cash only and he was forced to pay for all of ours. He did not let his annoyance show though and after a few we took some scenic shots of us in my sailor hat in front of the Statue of Liberty. We then headed downstairs to watch the band, where I'm sure my lack of enthusiasm was apparent.
Afterwards Charlie Kelly wanted to keep drinking, and since it wasn't that late I agreed. We headed to the Lower East Side, since he was going to be meeting some friends there later. He had been talking up how cool this place A Lounge was, so we headed there. We entered to this scene: absolutely no one in the place except two guys at a booth in the corner, both on their cell phones. On the small stage at the end of the room was the most ridiculous performer I had ever seen. She was dressed in a Lady Gaga-esque outfit, of bright neon and embellishments everywhere. There were props on the stage around her, with smoke billowing and a girl taking her picture every few minutes. She was singing along to electronic-type music. The bartender was laughing and looked grateful to have us there. Charlie Kelly took his drink, lowered his sunglasses and started dancing around. The singer loved this and when her song ended (which she had introduced as going viral) she screamed that her name was Melody Joy aka "Mel Mel Puff" and told the bartender to get us some shots. Charlie Kelly danced through her next few songs, one of which was called "Why You Mad Bro" and I stood entranced at what was going on around me. Here is a sampling: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBfY_ahDzoU
After her performance she and her friend came over to greet us. We thanked her for the shots and she thanked us for coming out to see her. She turned out to be from Pittsburgh and was now trying to make it big in New York. She was actually very nice and normal to talk to and even let me try on her boondoggle sunglasses! She also seemed to take an interest in Charlie Kelly which I chuckled at. They had to pack up and head out thought and we did the same. We grabbed another beer at the bar next door and I then I headed home before the friends showed up and I made a night of it.
Making a night of it would be for a couple nights later. On my recent trip back to Syracuse I had run into a family friend at Port Authority. He was heading back to Cuse as well and he saved me from having to sit next to a smelly fatty on the bus. He also shared half his sandwich with me and we had amusing convos. For this I had scored an invite to his bday party, which was being held this particular Saturday. I took Atl along for company. He lived in Chinatown and apparently had his own rooftop. This was correct and was huuuge, and almost right next to the Manhattan Bridge. In the corner he had set up a grilling station and some lawn chairs. I had joked to him that I was going to bring some boxed wine with me, but I had no idea how difficult it would be to find. Like it's a precious commodity or something. So I settled with Sutter Home and drank that while he grilled up some food for us. Every 5-7 min the R train would speed by on the bridge and Atl and I amused ourselves by waving to the people on the tour buses.
We ate a delish meal and Fam Friend regaled us with stories of living in Chinatown--how the old ladies in his stairwell always glared at him and how he had never seen so many people spit in his life. We also told him about our favorite phrase "swamp donkey" aka slonkey and we all discussed that for awhile. After eating more guests arrived and I hit the Sutter Home pretty hard. Not such a good idea, it turns out. We had plans to head to a bar in the LES which I called the Roach Bar, as I had seen a giant roach there with GF last summer. We all trucked through Chinatown to get there. My memories here are a bit fuzzy. I know Atl and another girl ran to a bodega to buy Fam Friend a bday pre-packaged muffin. We all took a shot. He then made friends with a larger black girl and Atl began to yell "boob shot, boob shot". It happened, followed by the most ridiculous group picture where Atl is basically holding me up. I know we stayed for awhile, I know I eventually grew bored and ended up texting with....the Playboy. We had been texting the past few weekends but hadn't met up. I hadn't seen him in probably a month, so this seemed like the perfect night, when I was blackout drunk.
I persuaded Atl to leave and I hope I said bye to Fam Friend. I'm sure he was less than impressed with me, since I was too drunk to be any fun, let alone social. Ehhh. I had our cab drop me off at Playboy's apartment. I stumbled up to the entryway (thank god the doorman wasn't there) and tried to ring his bell. Except I was very drunk and must have been pushing the wrong button, multiple times. A few minutes later, a mean-looking old man appeared in the doorway. He asked what I was doing there and who I was there to see. I ignored him and tried to make my way through the door. He was having none of it and pushed the door shut in my face. What a dick. I finally had to call the Playboy so he could come down and let my drunk ass in. I had a good chuckle about what had happened, but he was less amused, because he has no sense of humor whatsoever. Even in my state, I once again refused to have sex with him and then promptly passed out after making out for awhile.
In the morning I was disoriented and not feeling great, obviously. I tried to sneak out without waking him but that was a fail. We had some strained convo while I got dressed and then I saw myself out. Luckily I didn't run into the mean old man. Besides the playboy I had just left! Not my finest showing in New York, but what can you do.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
So I fell again....
Just an average Friday night bender in New York City. After taking a much-needed break the weekend before in the Cuse, I was feeling refreshed and ready to hit the town once again. Little did I know that this would be literally...
I started early. After work I met JM in South St. Seaport to head to happy hour at Beekman Beach Club. This is similar to what it sounds like--a bar on the "beach", meaning an area with fake sand right next to the river. It does have a phenomenal view of the Brooklyn Bridge, which were able to vaguely make out through the ridiculous thunderstorm which started right after we sat down. We huddled under the white tent over the bar and drank some beers while catching up.
However after this JM was ready to end her night. I was not. I headed back to Avenue C to see what Atl was up to. On the way I received a text from a friend from work saying she was going to a bday party at a bar in Midtown that night. Looks like we had our plan. I got ready quickly then Atl headed up there in a cab. When we emerged we were met with a line...in the rain. Ehhh. We waited, thinking that the group of 22 year olds with Long Island accents both in front of us and in back of us was not a good sign. We were correct in this assumption. The bar was B&T Brofest and absolutely packed. There was no one there worth talking to besides my friend from work and she was one of the only ones that hadn't gotten in with a fake ID. This was a fail. Atl and I wanted to leave stat and not really knowing what else to do, I texted the promoter I know from Syracuse. He is the one who throws parties in Meatpacking at tacky clubs, often times with a pack of bitchy girls. However the alcohol is free and in abundance so we agreed to meat him at Kiss N Fly. It was taking him longer than usual to get his table set up so while we were waiting we headed around the block to Gaslight, where the bouncer was being strict. This is basically a pub, but they still were not letting guys in easily, which shows the ridiculousness of Meatpacking. A guy asked if he could go in with us, and we agreed as long as he bought us each a drink. We led him straight to the bar, where he bought us each a shot. We slammed it down and promptly left, returning to our table of free booze at the club. Luckily the bitchy girls were absent that night and Atl and I were pretty much on our own. We drank our fill and danced around until we were bored. We decided that we were both pretty drunk so it was time to call it a night. We said our goodbyes to the promoter and his friends and made our way out, Atl leading the way.
We were in the entryway when it happened. I felt my foot step into a puddle and slide out from under me. Before I knew it I was on my back, on the floor, just like at Webster Hall a couple weeks before. How could this keep happening?! I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Atl had already exited but the bathroom attendant nearby had definitely seen. "That was funny right?" I said as I lifted myself from the ground. He didn't even crack a smile, just shook his head and turned around. Ehhh. I can only hope that the next time I fall I have someone to laugh with me, instead of not at all. I brushed myself off and joined Atl in the cab outside.
The next day the right side of my ass was extremely sore. This did not stop me from heading to my Saturday night destination--Russian Rocher's friend's bday party. This friend had mentioned setting me up with her guy friend every time I had met her. As it turns out her bday was a joint party, with said friend. So I decided that I might as well go and scope it out. I selected an outfit which best seemed to say "I'm not trying to look hot, but I do" and headed to the subway where the cat calls confirmed that someone thought I indeed did look hot, whether I was trying or not. The party was at a bar in Tribeca, which was a pretty rando location. They had the basement rented out though and an open bar, which I would not be partaking in after the last night. Russian Rocher was already there with her new man friend, who didn't have a whole lot to say, it seemed. She pointed out the bday friend across the room and he surprisingly looked cute. He was wearing an American flag printed baseball hat which I also appreciated. I was definitely willing to give this guy a chance. He was occupied with friends for awhile, but soon I spotted RR's friend leading him my way. Except RR's man friend had taken this opportunity to tell me, in great detail, about some movie featuring Girl Talk, whom I don't like to begin with. This guy needed to STFU before I missed my chance. Finally I somewhat rudely nodded and then turned around to meet the birthday boy. We chatted for a minute--he seemed nice and had good credentials (Notre Dame grad, lives in FiDi, accountant). He was soon whisked away but stopped by occasionally to chat. RR and her man friend were heading out but flip cup was just getting started in the back room so I decided to stay, because we all know I love flip cup. After a few games I came to the realization that I was at a party where I only kind of knew one person, who was occupied with her boyfriend on the dancefloor. Luckily the girls who were next to me at the table started to chat with me. They both seemed nice, though one had fake lips. I liked the other one more, as she was also from Upstate and had recently moved to NYC. I saw Bday Boy approaching but to my chagrin, he whisked Upstate girl onto the dancefloor. I was left with Fake Lips. I was curious where she fit in so I asked her who she knew here. Her response: "my friend is dating the birthday boy". Yes, Upstate Girl and he were together according to her. Apparently no one did their due diligence before inviting me to a party to be "set up". I suddenly felt very awkward and decided that was my cue to head out. From now on, I would find my own dates.
I started early. After work I met JM in South St. Seaport to head to happy hour at Beekman Beach Club. This is similar to what it sounds like--a bar on the "beach", meaning an area with fake sand right next to the river. It does have a phenomenal view of the Brooklyn Bridge, which were able to vaguely make out through the ridiculous thunderstorm which started right after we sat down. We huddled under the white tent over the bar and drank some beers while catching up.
However after this JM was ready to end her night. I was not. I headed back to Avenue C to see what Atl was up to. On the way I received a text from a friend from work saying she was going to a bday party at a bar in Midtown that night. Looks like we had our plan. I got ready quickly then Atl headed up there in a cab. When we emerged we were met with a line...in the rain. Ehhh. We waited, thinking that the group of 22 year olds with Long Island accents both in front of us and in back of us was not a good sign. We were correct in this assumption. The bar was B&T Brofest and absolutely packed. There was no one there worth talking to besides my friend from work and she was one of the only ones that hadn't gotten in with a fake ID. This was a fail. Atl and I wanted to leave stat and not really knowing what else to do, I texted the promoter I know from Syracuse. He is the one who throws parties in Meatpacking at tacky clubs, often times with a pack of bitchy girls. However the alcohol is free and in abundance so we agreed to meat him at Kiss N Fly. It was taking him longer than usual to get his table set up so while we were waiting we headed around the block to Gaslight, where the bouncer was being strict. This is basically a pub, but they still were not letting guys in easily, which shows the ridiculousness of Meatpacking. A guy asked if he could go in with us, and we agreed as long as he bought us each a drink. We led him straight to the bar, where he bought us each a shot. We slammed it down and promptly left, returning to our table of free booze at the club. Luckily the bitchy girls were absent that night and Atl and I were pretty much on our own. We drank our fill and danced around until we were bored. We decided that we were both pretty drunk so it was time to call it a night. We said our goodbyes to the promoter and his friends and made our way out, Atl leading the way.
We were in the entryway when it happened. I felt my foot step into a puddle and slide out from under me. Before I knew it I was on my back, on the floor, just like at Webster Hall a couple weeks before. How could this keep happening?! I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Atl had already exited but the bathroom attendant nearby had definitely seen. "That was funny right?" I said as I lifted myself from the ground. He didn't even crack a smile, just shook his head and turned around. Ehhh. I can only hope that the next time I fall I have someone to laugh with me, instead of not at all. I brushed myself off and joined Atl in the cab outside.
The next day the right side of my ass was extremely sore. This did not stop me from heading to my Saturday night destination--Russian Rocher's friend's bday party. This friend had mentioned setting me up with her guy friend every time I had met her. As it turns out her bday was a joint party, with said friend. So I decided that I might as well go and scope it out. I selected an outfit which best seemed to say "I'm not trying to look hot, but I do" and headed to the subway where the cat calls confirmed that someone thought I indeed did look hot, whether I was trying or not. The party was at a bar in Tribeca, which was a pretty rando location. They had the basement rented out though and an open bar, which I would not be partaking in after the last night. Russian Rocher was already there with her new man friend, who didn't have a whole lot to say, it seemed. She pointed out the bday friend across the room and he surprisingly looked cute. He was wearing an American flag printed baseball hat which I also appreciated. I was definitely willing to give this guy a chance. He was occupied with friends for awhile, but soon I spotted RR's friend leading him my way. Except RR's man friend had taken this opportunity to tell me, in great detail, about some movie featuring Girl Talk, whom I don't like to begin with. This guy needed to STFU before I missed my chance. Finally I somewhat rudely nodded and then turned around to meet the birthday boy. We chatted for a minute--he seemed nice and had good credentials (Notre Dame grad, lives in FiDi, accountant). He was soon whisked away but stopped by occasionally to chat. RR and her man friend were heading out but flip cup was just getting started in the back room so I decided to stay, because we all know I love flip cup. After a few games I came to the realization that I was at a party where I only kind of knew one person, who was occupied with her boyfriend on the dancefloor. Luckily the girls who were next to me at the table started to chat with me. They both seemed nice, though one had fake lips. I liked the other one more, as she was also from Upstate and had recently moved to NYC. I saw Bday Boy approaching but to my chagrin, he whisked Upstate girl onto the dancefloor. I was left with Fake Lips. I was curious where she fit in so I asked her who she knew here. Her response: "my friend is dating the birthday boy". Yes, Upstate Girl and he were together according to her. Apparently no one did their due diligence before inviting me to a party to be "set up". I suddenly felt very awkward and decided that was my cue to head out. From now on, I would find my own dates.
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