Hola Mexico! Part 1

A short while after leaving San Fran, Little Aussie and I found ourselves in a completely different world--Mexico. It may be close enough to home but it does not feel like it one bit. Especially not where we were heading. We must be the only girls in their 20s, who rather than vacationing at a beach in Mexico like normal people, decide to go to Mexico City. I joked to friends before leaving that they better be willing to negotiate with my kidnappers or else risk finding one of my fingers in their mailbox. Spoiler alert--we made it out of Mexico unscathed!

Now we didn't just choose this at random. My friend OG, another Hamburg friend, was from there and had invited us to visit. He was the final stop on our reunion tour. I hadn't seen him since he had come to visit me in NYC last spring and I was excited since OG is always fun. We weren't going to be staying with OG though, since he lived a bit outside of this massive mega-city and he thought it would be better if we stayed in the center of things. So he booked us a room at hostel in the city center. Except he booked us the penthouse suite, where we not only had our own private room but also had our very own rooftop patio overlooking the royal palace and the cathedral. Baller status! A sampling of our view:

I had spent the cab ride from the airport with my face pressed to the window at the view outside and now I couldn't stay away from the balcony, watching the hustle and bustle of the city before me. This was probably the craziest place I had ever seen. There were people everywhere, and the traffic was ridiculous. There were no lines in the roads and apparently no rules of the road. It was crowded and busy and loud. And we did not fit in. There didn't seem to be many tourists, not surprisingly, and those that were definitely came from Latin America. We are about as white as can be and were noticed, as we walked the neighborhood around our hostel looking for a bank and snacks. Neither of us spoke Spanish, my phone didn't work and OG hadn't responded to my last emails. It was getting cloudy and people were starting to clear the streets. We had somehow gotten turned around and weren't sure which way to go back. Of course it started to downpour and we were running through the streets, soaking wet, trying to figure out where the hell we were. When we finally did, we walked back into our hostel dejected and dripping wet and definitely not feeling like ballers.

We got some much-needed sleep that night and in the morning woke up early for a tour put on by the hostel. We visited some cathedrals and Aztec ruins around the city, including a square where 1,000 student protesters were killed by the government in 1968, before heading outside the city to the pyramids of Teotihuacan. Our tour group was made up of a variety of foreigners, including a few Europeans. I was the only American and this suited me fine. On the van ride out we listened to the Olympic soccer game in which Mexico was playing, and I again stared out the window at the slums lining the mountains outside. Before heading to the pyramids we stopped at a local store, which made it's own crafts, like sculptures out of volcanic rock, and tequila and mezcal. They gave us about 3 shots and then Little Aussie and I went to town in the store, buying up little statues and bottles of liquor. I'm sure it was wildly overpriced but neither of us seemed to care. (Sidenote, when I returned home to NYC I realized that the bottles of mezcal I had bought had the worm at the bottom..sick).

We then headed over to the pyramids to get to climbing. It was an absolutely beautiful day out--the perfect temperature, with a breeze that had a balmy smell and the sunlight was almost blinding. I have never experienced weather like that and I was pretty happy as I trucked up the steep steps of the Pyramid of the Moon. Once at the top Little Aussie and I had a photoshoot with the amazing landscape surrounding us. Then I realized I had to climb back down. I am really scared of heights and the steps were pretty narrow. Climbing down was tedious and I decided I wasn't even going to chance it with the Pyramid of the Sun, which was even higher. I sat sprawled out in a grassy area in its shadow, while Little Aussie headed up. I was nice and relaxed even though I had to shoo away a guy selling something every five seconds and I caught two random men taking my picture. Had they never seen bare legs before??

After awhile I started to get worried--Little Aussie hadn't come back down the mountain and it was nearing the time when we were supposed to meet back up with the tour group. I began to grow concerned. We were separated in a country which wasn't exactly the safest in which neither of us spoke the language. I wandered around growing angrier until we were eventually reunited. My mood was not the best for a bit but it improved after speaking to a cute little Swiss guy who was part of our group on the van ride back to the city. We didn't get a chance to exchange info so if I am meant to see him again I will. Little Aussie and I met OG for a delish dinner of authentic tacos and then watched the Olympics in our room. The next day we went on another tour of the Cathedral outside our hostel and then the National Palace. The tour was entirely too long but I did get to see the famous Rivera murals I had studied in college was pretty effing awesome.

That night we had plans to meet up with one of Russian Rocher's friends--her roommate from Penn, who was also from Mexico City. I had never met him but I figured it would be good to have one more person to take us out. He invited the two of us to a Penn alumni happy hour, so we took a cab that the hostel called us (we were advised not to hail cabs on the street because it was likely they would mug us) to the neighborhood--Colonia Roma. It was quite a difference from the neighborhoods we had seen so far, which looked pretty sketch. It was filled with architecturally interesting buildings and tall palm trees. We were headed to the Hotel Brick and after our driver got lost, finally made it. We walked in and I felt like I was back in New York. It was fancy and hip and Russian Rocher's friend greeted us in perfect English. He led us to a room with fancy apps and a bunch of tooly guys in suits. I could tell Little Aussie was immediately uncomfortable, especially when some of them started asking what we do for a living (she is a bartender at a strip club in Australia..probably not the answer they were expecting). I was eyeing a guy with slicked back hair who looked a lot like Ibanker until I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. Russian Rocher's friend was nice though and we eventually got in with a nice little group and had a competition to see if he could name all the Mexican states and I the US. I made it to 48--stupid Mississippi and Idaho!

It was an interesting evening, observing the wealthy in Mexico City, especially when the country has such a great divide. We really didn't notice many middle-class people at all while we were there; it seemed to be one or the other. And we had even more interesting times ahead of us....to be continued.....

San Fran: I'm Old Gregg!

And so begins my vacation with Little Aussie. And what better way to kick it off then with a classic night of New York binge-drinking. I started with an open bar JM was hosting at a classy little place called Off the Wagon. This hour long open bar turned into me staying for 3 hours. I then met up with Little Aussie at Le Poisson Rouge, to see a dj. The doorman kindly suggested we give him two random names so we did. He checked his list and let us in for free. Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs (yes that's the dj name) was awesome and I was having so much fun that I agreed to go out after with Little Aussie and her promoter friend that she had met while in New York. He took us to one of the standard Meatpacking clubs, where there was bottle service. This is always my downfall and I indulged heavily. I also gave my number to two different guys, both of whom turned out to be promoters and both still text me every weekend with stupid things that I will never do. Once it was 3AM and I was teetering where I stood I decided it was time to head home. Little Aussie stayed out until 6AM, returning back to my apartment as Atl was leaving for work.

I woke up still drunk and much too late--our flight was in a few hours and I hadn't packed a thing. I also decided that I absolutely had to go pick up my laundry and take a shower and do my hair. I was just taking my time and not realizing the magnitude of the situation. We left entirely too late and of course had to wait forever for the subway. I also sat next to an old pimp in a mustard-colored suit the entire ride to JFK and didn't realize it til halfway through. We arrived to check-in with an hour before the flight left. I thought we had plenty of time but apparently the lovely people at Delta thought otherwise. That is, if they had the ability to think and not be the ghetto pieces of shit that they were. For the first time in my life that I missed a flight. They refused to let us on, and then tried to charge us $800 each to get on another one. After I stood there screaming and slamming my wallet against the counter, they relented and agreed to let us on one at 8pm for $50. We were told these seats were guaranteed but after sitting around the airport for 6 hours, we were then told that we probably were not getting on that flight since they had oversold it by 20 people. Somehow we managed to get on, probably because Little Aussie burst into tears. The result of this was a man giving us all of his free drink tickets.

We arrived in San Fran in the middle of the night and after a cab ride from a crazy woman cabbie, had our reunion with Baby J and Byarr, my two beloved members of Team USA. The four of us had all spent a semester in Hamburg together and hadn't all been together since two summers before. It was a good thing we were excited to see each other since we were all in very close quarters together in our private hostel room. This hostel also featured the oldest elevator in the US, and I was convinced we were going to die every time we got in it. The long weekend was glorious and we all picked up right where we left off, cracking up the entire time. Baby J and Little Aussie appropriately took the role of the children, as they constantly flirted and made fun of each other, and Byarr and I were the parents, since they annoyed us. Byarr cracked us up at one point by telling them that they "shan't have their pudding" if they didn't stop misbehaving during dinner. We also quoted a youtube video that Baby J showed us all the entire weekend--Old Gregg. It is the weirdest British skit about a gay swamp creature named Old Greg who loves Baileys.

We packed in the weekend with sightseeing. We ate clam chowder at Fisherman's wharf, had coffee and truffles in North Beach, walked through Chinatown, shopped in Union square, weirdo-watched in Haight Ashbury and rode on one of the streetcars. We also had an awesome photo shoot at the cliffs and the beach in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, where I got to show off my favorite undies:

                                                                Deutschland meets San Fran

We went out at night obviously, to the Mission and a really cool bar called Elbow Room, which played vintage porn. We also went to some other less cool bars, one of which was filled with annoying college kids bro-ing out. We drank a lot of San Fran craft beer, most of which was good, one of which tasted literally like toilet water. Little Aussie and I were concerned about Byarr, who in Germany had the tendency to get pretty out of control. He was relatively tame this trip, except for one night. Baby J and I were exhausted and went back to the room to go to bed after we returned to the hostel. Little Aussie and Byarr wanted to continue the party with some people from the hostel they had met. Little Aussie met another hot Aussie man and was caught up with him. She didn't notice that Byarr had slipped away and walked to another nearby hostel. He walked in, told the guy at the desk he was in room 4B and went to the kitchen where he drank a bunch of beer out of the fridge. He was finally caught when he started removing food, and was escorted out.

We also took a mini-trip while in San Fran, across the bay to Tiburon. Byarr has family in San Fran, an awesomely hilarious aunt and uncle. They have a second home in Tiburon, which is about a half hour ferry ride away. They were having a party that Saturday afternoon, but due to our lack of planning skills we ended up going without having time to change into nice clothes. We showed up looking like slobs and bringing nothing with us. I wouldn't normally care, but this second home was absolutely amazing and was located on one of the cliffs overlooking the bay.

This view is no big deal

His family was very welcoming, serving us food and drinks and entertaining the slovenly lot of us. We enjoyed our short time there until we had to literally run back down the hill in order to catch the last ferry. Little Aussie also entertained ourselves when the boys got fed up with our silly antics. We were wandering Golden Gate Park one afternoon when we spotted an old carousel. We of course had to go on it, like the children that we are. The carousel operator was about to shut down but when he saw us outside, let us on and gave us 3 free rides. The boys sat waiting for almost a half hour as we jumped around this thing "horse hopping" and taking hilarious photos. I'm still mad that that little girl stole the rooster that I really wanted to ride on though.
And finally the last great moment of the trip occurred on our last morning there. We went to a brunch place nearby before starting our day of sightseeing. We ate quite a bit and after the meal I naturally had to take a poop. We had been out the night before and I had tried to avoid using the bathroom in our room. So off I went to take care of business which was successful. Except for when I went to flush. Nothing. I jiggled the handle and still nothing. My specimen was sitting squarely in the toilet and it looked to be not going anywhere. This was the only bathroom in the restaurant and I started to panic that someone was going to be waiting outside. I washed my hands quickly and ran out. I was relieved to see no one was waiting, but as soon as I sat back down the guy at the table across from us got up and headed there. Baby J was trying to ask me something but I was too distracted to think. I had to interrupt him to explain the situation and tell them we needed to leave immediately. The boys were cracking up at my panicked look, as they have never heard me talk about anything like this. I barely noticed as I was hauling ass to the exit but we must have all kept laughing for the next hour.

A perfect way to end a reunion trip with people I don't see very often. The next morning we said our goodbyes as we were all flying off to our respective destinations. But we made plans to meet up again soon in Denver, which is where Byarr lives. And next stop for Little Aussie and I--Mexico City. To be continued....

"Holy Shit, There's a Hipster in my Bed!"

So now begins the epic 2 and a half weeks with my little Aussie Friend. We had studied abroad together in Germany a couple years ago and now she was doing her tour of the US. She had been in LA with our friend Baby J for a couple of weeks, traveling the West Coast, and now she was headed East. She was going to be staying with me for a week in New York before we headed off to our travels--meeting up with Baby J in San Fran and then off to Mexico City (that's right) to see another Germany friend. The Grand Tour.

I hadn't seen Little Aussie since she met me in Strasbourg for an emergency weekend away from where I was staying with that awful Swiss guy. I had been kind of a mess at that time so I wanted her to see me normal and happy. Or as normal as things can be in New York. So come the weekend, we were going out. Friday night we were headed to Williamsburg, to see a dj from LCD Soundsystem at Brooklyn Bowl. I figured this wouldn't be a neighborhood she would venture to on her own and it's fun to see. I had invited my guy friend from work as well, which would be the first time we had hung out outside of a work setting, but he claimed to like LCD Soundsystem. He met us and I was surprised to see that instead of a dj, they were playing a video of an LCD Soundsystem concert on a giant screen, with a bunch of people dancing to it. Little Aussie got a kick out of it but I couldn't help thinking this was a crock. But once Little Aussie treated us all to shots of Cafe Patron I determined that this was actually fun and cool. Work Friend and I were standing next to each other, both checking our phones, when a short, tubby girl behind us tapped us and said "Umm if you guys aren't going to watch, could you move??". Our reaction was perfectly executed--we both turned around, looked at her, and turned back to our phones without moving. She then huffed away and we cracked up.

Unfortunately, after a couple more drinks, shit started to get weird, as it always does at Brooklyn Bowl. Work Friend was getting closer to me as he talked and he let it slip that he didn't even really know LCD Soundsystem. He kept putting his arm around my waist. I was tensed up and trying to move away and he said "We work together, is this weird?" and I answered flatly--"Yes". A few minutes later he went to the bathroom and never came back. I received a text an hour or so later saying he was too drunk and had to go home. I see. I like Work Friend, for who he is--a friend at work, so there will be none of that.

You would think after that I would be out of the woods, but no no. I had somehow started texting with a guy I had a fling with in college. He moved away from NYC just when I moved here but now he was moving back for grad school. He was studying Creative Writing and was a total pompous dick. He had been sweet when I first met him at the end of my freshman year, sweet enough to cheat on my boyfriend with. He secretly talked throughout Sophomore year and when I went on a break with this boyfriend, we started a short fling, which ended when I got back together with my boyfriend. We hadn't talked much since and I hadn't seen him since literally 2005. So obviously he came to meet me at Brooklyn Bowl, when it was determined that he was in Williamsburg as well. I didn't know if I really wanted to see him but I was too drunk to determine much of anything at that point and was busy dancing to the dj who had actually gone on. He showed up and looked exactly the same, except bald. We had a few conversations I don't remember, while Little Aussie made fun of him secretly. When it was time for us to leave Little Aussie told me I had to get rid of him. I made up some story about where we were going and he grabbed me on the middle of the sidewalk and started to make out with me. Whoa dude, this may have been cool 7 years ago but it was not the case now. I endured it for a second, then said I would talk to him later and scampered away with Little Aussie, to head back to Manhattan.

Once there we found Atl, drunk as well. She had gone out with her friend who was visiting from Charlotte and it sounded like they had a better night than we did. She was also texting her secret New York love, Kevin, who mostly ignored her. She had made a breakthrough though and had actually gotten him to agree to come over. She ushered us into my room where I received communication from my elusive guy in New York as well--the Playboy. He had popped up out of nowhere and was texting me to come to his place at 5am. No way sir, not anymore. I responded saying he should come to my place, never thinking that he actually would. He must have been real desperate, because he agreed almost immediately, hopped in a cab and was on Avenue C 20 minutes later. I couldn't believe it. Little Aussie crawled into her bed on the couch, leaving the Playboy and me in my room together. We had a steamy makeout sess, but unfortunately for him, I still wasn't giving it up since he had put in zero effort for it. And good move, because like a true gentleman, he snuck out and left soon after I fell asleep. Fucking Playboy.

In the morning we all slept til an absurd hour and then rehashed the night before with Atl screaming "KEEEEVIN" intermittently throughout the conversation. Little Aussie and I headed to the Gugg for the afternoon returning later to nap and get ready for our second night out. We both had doubts on if we could make it, but Atl insisted that we had to meet up with her and her friend after they went to dinner. So I took Little Aussie to the Back Room, thinking it was good spot to show a friend visiting. Everyone else apparently thought so too and it was packed with foreign tourists. Despite how much I liked the speakeasy vibe and the drinks served in teacups, this place was played out. Luckily after wandering the LES for a bit, Atl summoned us to meet them at a bar in Chelsea. We arrived to find it empty and we sat trying to figure out our next move (after a round of Cafe Patron shots of course). We even debated going to a strip club that High School had invited us too, which Little Aussie was very excited about. But Atl's friend had invited one of her New York friends to meet her and suddenly a group of 8 guys was trucking into the bar to meet us. The night suddenly brightened.

They surprisingly nixed the strip club and we split up to take cabs to Bowery Electric. The cute hipster I had been talking to at the bar was sitting next to me and we continued to chat. Things were rowdy at B.E. and after Atl got screamed at by a bouncer for trying to cut in the bathroom line she pulled an Irish Exit and apparently got a ride home with a stranger. The rest of us were none the wiser and had a dance party among ourselves where lots of incriminating photos were taken. After awhile the group disbanded but I was not finished with our night so I dragged Little Aussie, Atl's friend, the cute hipster and his friend to the Wren. My memories of this are a little foggy but I know I sat and chatted with the hipster, apparently pulling all of this knowledge out of my ass about the craft beers they were serving and remembering none of it. I know I also got pissed when a creepy dude who had been talking to Little Aussie followed us to the Wren and then followed us out when we left. The creepiness had to stop and luckily hipster's friend told him he had to leave.

It was past last call at this point but when a random drunk dude approached us on the street and asked the hipster and me if we wanted to go somewhere for after-hours with him, we agreed. Why? We followed him and I thought we were all going to a party when he stopped in front of a dark building to make a call. Little Aussie and Atl's friend were yelling about something and dancing in the street when the door mysteriously opened and we were ushered into a dark entryway. The doorman slammed the door behind us, turned and began to scream at us that we needed to shut the fuck up and act classy when we came here. We all stood frozen, not really sure what to do. I wasn't about to try and get past this guy to leave now so we followed the drunk guy upstairs to a tiny bar. This was apparently called the KGB Bar and was in fact filled with old Russians, as well as some normal looking people. We were all a little unnerved about getting screamed at and the whole situation in general, so we drank our beers quietly in a corner. Little Aussie began to chat with the guys next to her about acting, but once we finished our drinks we decided it was time to get out of this creepy place. We all got up and filed out, one of us accidentally knocking over a bottle on our way. We rushed outside, glad that we had lived through that.

We were very close to my apartment and Cute Hipster and his friend followed us back. I was wondering wtf they were doing but I didn't say anything. We started to all have another drink in my living room when the move was made. Cute Hipster asked if he could see my room and it was all over. I agreed and a couple minutes later my door closed. We had officially left the party. I woke up in the morning, turned over and had a slight shock--"Holy shit, there's a hipster in my bed!" was my first thought. And hipster he was--nerd glasses, vans and a sassy attitude. He also used to live in San Francisco and was a Kindergarten teacher. Another unexpected fact-- he also had the biggest man part I have ever seen. I had refused to let it near me though, as is my MO lately--refusing to sleep with these guys. When I couldn't find my glasses, he told me that he had thrown them out the window because I wouldn't have sex with him. He was kind of an asshole but I did like his sense of humor.

We actually ended up going on a date a couple nights later. We walked the High Line and ate popsicles and chatted and I had quickly developed a crush on this cute little hipster. I was even willing to overlook the fact that he skateboards! But alas, I left for my trip a few days later. He texted me once during it, but when I returned he totally blew me off and I never heard from him again. I was disappointed, as I had already imagined the fun hipster outfits I could wear when we dated, but really could I have a future with someone who skateboarded to yoga class? So, in the words of Little Aussie, I never did find out if I "could take his huge wang".

"That one doesn't like to work"

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!

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.

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 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.