Back in Action

After my recovery weekend with family, I needed to get back into the swing of things. I was still feeling badly but luckily more guests were in town--JW and BK. They were back to see a concert and had brought two other friends with them. But their Friday night was free. And good thing because there was another Rebel Bingo taking place that night and you better believe we were going. I trucked to Hell's Kitchen to meet them all at their hotel. We caught up while the girls took roughly 4 and a half hours to get ready. I had of course selected a ridic outfit based on the occasion and closely resembled Donna Martin from 90210. When they decided their outfits were outrageous enough we headed out to hail a cab. There were 5 of us and most cabs in NYC only allow 4 people but we decided to try and elude them. The first was unsuccessful--as soon as we all piled in the driver turned to us, wagged a finger and snarled "There is a problem". We filed out and luckily had better luck with the next one, really only because he was an Indian and so is AV. They became bff's on the ride over while the rest of us squawked and laughed in the backseat about god knows what. When we walked into Irving Place I looked around in horror--it looked like we were at an NYU frat party. No one there could have possibly been over the age of 20, with the exception of us of course. Not knowing what else to do, since we had already bought our tickets, we headed inside and I went straight to the bar. As soon as I purchased my beer a bouncer came running over to me demanding to see some ID. Apparently I was supposed to get a bracelet but how the f was I supposed to know this? Annoyed, I got it out and I copped a tude, saying that out of all the people present he was going to ask me for ID. After that minor fiasco we all headed upstairs to the Bingo room. It was packed with youngings and not in a good way. We played a couple rounds and it was the usual--scantily clad ladies yelling lewd comments, the announcer screaming "who wants to win a fucking panda suit" in a British accent into the microphone, but weren't having quite as much fun as we had the last time. But, then out of nowhere, things picked up. We had been discussing the foreign man JW had befriended the last time we went and as the crowds parted, there he was. He even had his little sidekick from the last time with him. A strange coincidence indeed. As he and JW had a glorious reunion, the host of bingo suddenly appeared (we were in between rounds) and told AV, LP and I that he would give us $20 to write all over the creepy old guy lurking by the bar in marker. We agreed but I held back, mostly out of disgust, while the girls went to town. After we decided to take our winnings and leave. LP really wanted to go to a hookah bar so we headed to one in the East Village We sat and smoked our giant hookah and then deciced to devour a hummus plate. I was starting to feel a bit sad about Ibanker and decided we needed a change of scenery. Time to walk to Beauty Bar. I walked quickly, on a mission, but AV was much drunker than I had realized. I turned around at one point and she was sprawled out in the street, with the girls attempting to help her up. We eventually made it to the bar but to my chagrin the bouncer denied her. Annoyed, I copped an attitude again, and yelled "What, is she the drunkest person to try to get into a bar in the history of New York City??". This did not persuade him and we decided to cut our losses and call it a night. The girls hailed a cab back to the hotel, and I headed into the subway where I drunkenly rode the subway back to the Shwick. Except I had forgotten about the fact that I was covered in marker and halfway through noticed the guy next to me starting at the giant "Slut" written down my arm.
The next morning, after sleeping off my hangover and successfully scrubbing the marker off of my body, I headed back to the hotel to visit with the girls before their concert. We laid around the room for a couple hours as none of us were feeling that great. When I left we made plans to meet up later that night after their concert and my parties. I had had two interesting invites to two different parties that night. The first was courtesy of a guy I had gone to college with. We had had a class together junior year and had been buddies. We had not spoken since but had remained friends on facebook. He was now living in NYC and had sent me a message a couple weeks prior. It was his bday party and I was invited, along with GF. We decided to meet outside the subway in Midtown West and walk over to Mason's apartment together. GF was late for once so I went to Duane Reade and picked up some beer--Miller Lite, which was a GMU staple. When we walked into the apartment, I felt like I had walked into a GMU party--it was very diverse and there was a giant beer pong table set up. Mason greeted us and poured us some sangria. Then we were on our own. GF and I didn't know, well anyone, at the party, and Mason was off entertaining. We stood around and chatted until the "band" came on. They were two performers that had Mason had come across on the subway and hilariously decided to invite play at his party. One played guitar and rapped, while the other jammed out on a flute (that's correct). They were entertaining to say the least, even though they were playing directly in front of the beer fridge. GF and I stood around, antsy, waiting for them to finish. When it became clear that this was not going to be happening anytime soon GF waited for a pause, excused himself, and walked right in between them to grab a beer. I was quietly cracking up until he came back over and informed me that a good deal of our beer was missing. Then it got real. When the band finally quit GF and I headed to the couch to strategize our next move. Mason came to join us for a bit and we chatted. We decided that we should hang out another time, when things weren't so hectic. He got up to greet a guest and a mean-looking blonde girl took his place. GF and I noticed her beer at the same time--Miller Lite. We then loudly began to make comments about how you usually wait til the end of the party to steal someone's beer, while she pretended to ignore us. I had been texting the girls about their location but they were already pretty wasted from the concert and weren't giving us coherant information. We then decided to go to party #2, which I had ruled out at the beginning of the night. It was being hosted by the law school guy I had hooked up with the previous fall. A total bro. I hadn't spoken to him since I moved to New York but he was living here now and had sent me the facebook invite. It was on the Upper East Side, and an open bar, which immediately sold GF. We peaced out of the party and hopped in a cab for our second party, with me in slight shock that we were actually going. When we arrived the bar was filled with bros and we also discovered that this "open bar" involved a $40 wrist band. We ruled that out and bought a drink anyway while I looked around nervously. I finally spotted him and headed over. To my relief he gave me a huge hug. He immediately led GF and I to the bar where we ordered us a round of Patron. We chatted with him for a bit but decided afterwards to head out, since neither of us were interested in a party situation where we knew no one besides the host. We went to Meatpacking, which was another unsuccessful trip. I hadn't heard back from the girls so once again time to cut our losses and call it a night. But I was pleased at the possibility of new prospects on the horizon.....
The next day I decided to be productive and headed down to the financial district where the museum I work for was hosting a special interactive exhibit. The last stop in the exhibit was a trip up to the top floor of one of the remaining World Trade Center towers. The whole floor was empty and there were floor to ceiling windows with views of the Manhattan and New Jersey skylines. I took the time to space out--I pulled up a chair and gazed down at the new 9/11 Memorial, lost in thought, for roughly a half hour.
When I came out of my reverie, I had received a text from Prom, in response to the one I had sent to him earlier. He lives near that area and I wanted some company. I met him outside his apartment and since I was starving I demaded we go to Le Pain Quotidien, where I ordered the heartiest quiche. After I finished eating (and Prom finished making fun of me for ordering a quiche) we went to the bar next door to his apartment--Reade St Pub. It was about as townie as any New York City bar could be and I was pretty enthralled. The bartender was a gruff woman named Marcia and one of the waitresses was this loud, insane French woman and I could literally see the crazy in her eyes. When I informed Prom that I was terrified of her he responded cryptically that I had every reason to be. After a couple beers I proceeded to spill it to Prom about what had happened with Ibanker. Prom listened, then explained his similar situation with a girl he had been seeing. It was so strange, but everything he was saying sounded exactly like what Ibanker would say about us. I suddenly realized what exactly we were, which was nothing. I had also been debating contacting him, since it felt weird to talk regularly for over a year then suddenly not communicate at all. And literally as we were having this conversation Prom received a text from the girl informing him that he was an asshole, among other things. She was clearly drunk and Prom instructed me to never be that girl. Witnessing that situation was enough to make me realize that I truly did need to close the book on Ibanker. To add to the insanity of Reade St Pub, an older man had walked in and sat down next to me. He seemed to be a regular and he and Marcia began chatting, mostly about the Yankees game being played on TV. He then turned his attention to Prom and me and began telling us about his days on Wall St in the 80's and how it was just like Bonfire of the Vanities. This is the point where he unveiled his desserts he had brought in for Marcia. He apparently sometimes brought her treats from the expensive bakery across the street. He had over-ordered this time and Marcia couldn't eat them all. Lucky for me, I was offered them instead. I sat in between Prom and this man, shoveling peanut butter pie and a giant frosted brownie into my mouth. I was so involved that I even managed to ignore the pervy man's comment about making sure I ate all the frosting. I was unable to finish them and Marcia suggested I take the rest home to which I readily agreed. After another round of beers, courtesy of the owner, I decided that I had had another successful weekeend in New York and headed home.