Friday, September 9, 2011

What happens in NYC stays in NYC aka JackAssery with Family & Friends

I’ve been itching for a girl’s night out. You know – get together with some friends, have a few drinks, maybe have dinner or go to a movie. Just a fun night out.  Times sure have changed.  It doesn’t seem that long ago that a girls night – or weekend – out involved travel, custom made cassette tapes, many, many drinks and perhaps some lost clothing.

Welcome to JackAssery with Friends and Family – Vol. 2 –The NYC Edition

Trip 1: I had a job interview in NYC and dragged T along.  T is not one to miss a good time and having heard way too much about my brother and sister-in-law, it seemed a good opportunity to combine the two.  We were northbound out of Union Station with no fanfare. Given the rest of the weekend, this was good.

T and my brother must have bonded well while I interviewed because the three of us immediately headed to Grand Central Oyster Bar where we proceeded to drink until we were stupid while waiting for my sister-in-law to meet us. No worries about a reprimand from her – she was more peeved we were so far ahead of her.

I have to say, a train is not a bad way to commute – especially if one can sit in the bar car. There was lots of laughter until T decided some man bore a striking resemblance to a certain former senator from MS.  She felt compelled to point this out him and share her feelings on how he (the elected official, not the random man) was the anti-Christ.  We were the only ones who thought this was hilarious.
After a night in the ‘burbs, T and I headed back into the City.  I’d like to tell you where we went but I can’t remember (a combo of age and well….).  I can tell you that good manners prevailed and we graciously accepted any drink that was offered. Our mothers would have been proud. Sort of.

I don’t know what time we got back to the hotel. I do know we rallied the next morning. After a call to my brother to assure him we were alive, we wandered around, had lemon Italian ice on the steps of St. Pat’s, we rested.  We were less than steady on our feet – must have been something we ate from the night before.

We boarded the train to head home (our luggage lighter because we, uh, each came home with one less article of clothing) - we were at least walking upright and somewhat straight. We collapsed into our seats, feet up on the seats opposite us and promptly passed out. For four hours. Thank God, we woke up right before our stop but I shudder to think what we looked like.

Trip 2:  T and I drove from WDC to CT to visit my brother and sister-in-law.  T and I had custom made tapes and massive water bottles for the ride – because, it’s healthy to drink a lot of water, right? As if that could balance out the sheer amount of alcohol we were about to consume.

R & V thought it would be fun to have lobsters for dinner.  We bought the biggest ones they had, made a big pitcher of Sangria and sat outside.  No lobster crackers? No problem. A hammer and chisel did the trick (and it was way harder than you think.) I don’t think the patio was ever the same.

City-bound the next night with R&V for dinner.  R says he just knew we were looking for trouble – he could see it in our eyes. More likely, he could smell it on our breath as we were many martinis in by the time dinner arrived.  After dinner, off we went.  We met up with a friend T made on our last trip (she’s a friendly girl; I attract psychos.)  He took us around town, on the subway, and into a really cool bar that had no name or sign and that we danced. A lot. 

But, really – it’s the ride home that gets good.  You see, we had to take the train back to the ‘burbs.  I will gladly share that T can get a wee bit belligerent when she’s had a few and insisted on a big piece of cake (which was really a pre-made tuna sandwich – ewwwww) from the gross kiosk in Grand Central.  I more shamefully share that I know why the last train out of the City is called the “vomit comet.”

We were easy targets for R & V the next morning.  T could not lie on her back because the ceiling fan made her a tad queasy.  She was only mildly mocked while I was brutally abused by my then toddling nephew.  Sent to check on me and see if I was okay lying on the bathroom floor, he stood in the doorway and said, “Aunt Wandi, what’s wong?” (yep, the letter “r” was a real challenge for him) while R & V shrieked with laughter in the background. Bastards.

The scary part was T & I had to pull ourselves together and drive back to WDC.  We loaded up my car and we got in. Clutching plastic bags – well, just in case.  Off we went to sound of laughter coming from the driveway and my sweet little nephew Ty asking T, “Will you be my best fwiend?”

Too bad Ty, she already has one. And we made jackasses out of ourselves.

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