Wait where are we now
I spent yet another Friday night at the club Libation…but it was against my wishes. I can only take so much clubbing. Granted our hook up Fidel gets us past the cover and into the bottle service, so I cannot complain. But you know sometimes you just want to hang out in jeans and drink a PBR and pineapple. I went because an after party for the skid row documentary was being held there. The documentary follows Pras from the fugees around LA for a week while he pretended to be a beggar. Pras evidently showed up, but I could not pick him out of a line up, so maybe I talked to him, maybe I did not. Well he was supposed to bring his friend Edward Norton along, but didn’t. Call me strange, but Ed is in my top five to bang along with John Cusack, Alan Rickman, Rodrigo Santoro, and Paul Walker (gotta have one beefcake).
While I don’t know if I talked to Pras or not, I do remember talking to a chatty LA agent and a Canadian musician. The LA guy was all “like we are so in, I’m off to London to hang with my crew and set up the deals, yo I was in LA last weekend and it was hoping, blah blah blah”. I did a lot of nodding and sipping my drink. I shared my ode de Canada adventures with the musician. He did not think Allison’s comment “well if you are all here, who is running Canada” funny. He later whipped out his Canadian passport and smacked me across the face with it.
Since the conversation was going nowhere, I proceeded to watch the action occurring down below (I was up in the VIP balcony, don’t be impressed, drop any name and they let you in). I was rewarded with a big bar brawl! Yeah two beefy guys started pushing each other, then punching, then shirts started flying off and they rolled around the ground wrestling. If only I had lots and lots of jello! I was sad when the bouncers threw them out because seeing two half naked boys all over each other was my gay fantasy of the night.
At 2am, I received a call from Rob. He was in the area (lower east side) with a bunch of college friends. Sure enough, I was walking out of the club and practically ran into them. He went to Marquette which is located in Wisconsin. Therefore these Midwestern boys were in city shock. Rob forgot to tell them that when you go out in the lower east side, you cannot wear shorts, cargo pants, jeans, basically anything normal or comfortable for August. Therefore, they were in the mood for something a little more down home.
We trekked up a few blocks up to Doc Holidays where the bartenders all dress slutty (like cut too short jean shorts not posh slutty where it takes a lot of money to look that cheap) and the beer is cheap (and nasty). We sipped on PBR pounders and played pool. Sadly the big buck hunter game was being monopolized by a group of preppies. After two of the boys were soundly defeated by some randoms, it was time to move on. In my drunken haze, I was still able to give correct directions to McSorely’s. Too bad when we showed up, it was already closed. No worries since it was past 4am and a pizza parlor around the corner diverted our attention.
I never knew breaded/fried chicken and bacon slices could taste sooooo good on a bed of cheese pizza. Random I know, but so were the people. I snapped a picture of some girl in a full sequin cowgirl costume. Hurrah for St. Mark’s neighborhood!
Because the guys dropped most of their money on overpriced drinks at the clubs, they decided on taking the subway home. I figured why not save $10 and get escorted back home by the Wisconsin boys (okay that came off the wrong way, I mean there could be there to keep me company and safe in case there is a rival gang of hipster girls or something). Anyway, while we walking over to the station, I had to pee like a mother. I ducked into some all night diner to use the facilities. When I rejoined the group outside, they were all shouting and clapping each other on the back. Turns out the diner was the same one feature in the movie Big Daddy. Go figure, NYC, where the ordinary is extraordinary. I’m waiting for them to shoot in my building or block so I can have a claim to fame other than the largest adult section etc.
Okay this is the second time I’ve had to experience drunk tourists on the subway, and I can tell you it is tiptoeing the line between extremely funny and extremely annoying. My Chicago friends may remember the time I babysat a bunch of Kansas girls on the L once. Anyway, the Wisconsin boys were all about shouting out “what would happen if I peed on the third rail, what is that…a rat, dude look a rat on the tracks, why are all these people here, it is like 5am are they lost or something”. Yeah I found a seat and watched the scene like watching monkeys in their cage.
Fortunately I got to my neighborhood safely and was dropped off one block away from my apartment. Sadly, the strip clubs were closing at the same time (around 5:30-6am). I had to weave along 8th ave surrounded by strippers and pathetic men who wanted to pick up the strippers. I got a few, “just coming off work honey, I’ve been waiting for you”. All together now….ewwww! Although, now I have to reevaluate how I club dress.