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Well, I didn’t think there would be much of a weekend recap, but seeing as how I missed a visit to the parents and this week’s Triviotic recovering from this weekend’s activities, I guess a belated one is in order.

First and foremost, I went into this weekend broke, as I overspent on Memorial Day weekend. Since it was the weekend after, and I was still weary from some the previous weekend’s shenanigans, I thought it would be a good time to take a break and go underground.

As pencil magnate and college football analyst Lee Corso would say, “Not so fast, my friend.”

First, I had forgotten that Friday was Midwesterner’sbirthday and that he was throwing down at Barcade. Since Barcade is within walking distance of my house, it would have been inexcusable not to at least show up. Essentially sober for the evening, I managed to have a very good time (believe it or not, some us of CAN do it), and watch the birthday boy, among others, get drunk.

I got home at a reasonable hour and thought I would be hunkering down Saturday night to watch the Yankees game and the network premiere of Kimbo Slice. Little did I know that I would draw a Community Chest card saying “Bank Error in your Favor. Please collect $40, advance to nearest railroad.” Okay, not precisely what happened. Alice magically found $40 that she owed me from October if I came out to drink with her and the boys in Park Slope. Well, How could I turn that down? Sure you were denied a running diary about my first serious attempt to watch mixed martial arts, featuring such gems as:

“What’s the deal with all the dudes in scissor positions rolling around on the ground? Seems kind of gay.”

“These female MMA fighters aren’t that hot, but somehow, it’s kinda really hot.”

Instead, we went to a couple of bars and then ended up hanging out at Alice’s to six in the morning. We raided the liquor and among what we found…absinthe. Appropriately named lucid, this left my one of my pals wide awake at six in the morning. I was in decent shape as well, having both woken up late and only drinking mimosas at Alice’s (mitigating the scotch and beer-fest earlier in the evening.). That’s when he was like, let’s hang out on my roof deck and watch the morning over New York! The fact that I thought this was a good idea tells you how drunk I was.

This is the friend that lives in The Greatest Apartment Building Ever.

Soon enough we were on his roof deck, drinking absinthe, enjoying the sun, and having a rather deep conversation about the nature of friendship and its ups and downs. We recently had a dispute when I thought he was pulling a practical joke and he was serious. Let’s just say the end result was people in Point Pleasant, N.J. with nowhere to go. There are a lot worse places to be with nowhere to go, but still. We hashed it out and the morning was quality time well spent. Well, until he couldn’t stay up anymore.

He said he was coming right back, but like a regrettable one-night stand, he had abandoned me. He went into his apartment and never came back. So this fool left me on the roof, with a bottle of absinthe and a glass, ans a beautiful Sunday morning. So I listened to my iPod, took my shirt off, meditated a little…and then passed out.

I woke up to discover that it was 4:30 pm, and there was a little party on the roof. And the residents partying had apparently, kept a little watch over me, this shirtless stranger. They were all relieved to see me finally wake up; it sort of took the party to another level. “He’s alive!” one female exclaimed. Well, I’m sure they held up a mirror under my nose to make sure things were cool.

“Now that you’re awake, you should come party with us,” another told me. Sure. If by party you mean, “stand around in stunned disbelief about the events of the past twenty-four hours and get your bearings.” I partied with them a little, but eventually, I had to put my shirt on and leave. Well, it’s nice to know that even when I am a completely passed out stranger in the middle of your building, I’m still considered friendly, charming, and someone you want to have around. Or the gym must really be paying off even more than I realize.

But did I go straight home? Of course not. Continuing our newest tradition, my roommate and I hit up the Turkey’s Nest in Williamsburg. When ever the Mets and/or Yankees are on ESPN Sunday Night Baseball, it’s now a Nest Night. Although I suspect we might be expanding that group in an excuse to head for the neighborhood’s most wonderfully rowdy bar. I hates me some Red Sox, Angels, and Braves, but somehow that may be mitigated during the summertime and crowd of rowdy kickballers that frequent the joint. Oh, let’s throw the Diamondbacks in there. Not a fan.

But even before that, my favorite summer tradition went down: running into Garden Salad Joe at McCarren Park. It’s not officially summer until I see Joe hanging with his “better” friends at the park. It’s like, Now I know. Summer’s here. For me, this was the official kickoff. You know, last week I was wondering if the group’s wild ride might be over. It still might be. But once again, I realized, for me, the ride is probably not going to end anytime soon. Not with all the random people I know, and the random amounts of money I’m clearly owed, and my ability to win over and charm people even when I’m essentially a sleeping and homeless bum. …so, you don’t stop. Sometimes, you just have to embrace the madness.

 

 

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One Comment

  1. Sounds like a fun night. And I feel hungover just reading this. Wow. Hope you got a cup of coffee in there somewhere during the festivities.


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