Lindsey’s birthday crew and I moved to the Brass Monkey for free tequila shots and beers on the rooftop, and then cab-ed it to Tribeca to hit up L’s favorite spot in the city, The Patriot, a dive bar that plays the best of the best in country music, (a rare find in NYC), and if you get lucky you’ll find crowds of hot college grads in pastel polo’s, starched khakis, an a southern twang in their voice. For L and I? Just what the doctor ordered. We were always on the look out for guys that looked like they might be from the south, and or could at least pass for it.
A short story on hard liquor…
Lindsey loves her vodka, I swear she drinks more vodka than water sometimes. That scares me. I always tried to force feed her water, she hates it! I on the other hand, can NOT handle vodka. Unless you want to see me on the bar, on the floor, dancing with the most unattractive male figure in sight, DON’T GIVE ME VODKA. I’ve had rough nights with Mr. Vodka. We have never been friends. I got sick in the back of a taxi cab because Lindsey and I were throwing down v-shots at a bar on the Upper East Side, she and I both thought I could handle it this time. Well…..I ended up bailing on L, hopping in a cab, getting violently ill, when Mohammed my driver pulled up to our apartment, he locked me in, and I refused to admit that the throw up was mine! He then proceeded to call FIVE NYPD officers over, my eyes were bloodshot as I was looking into their flashlights. Mohammed was screaming at me to pay him forty dollars for a cleanup fee, I finally threw the money at him and jetted for the door! I believe that night I also fell asleep, (L and I shared ONE set of keys) and L was locked out of the apt. She was apparently beating the door with her high heels…I never woke up. The next morning I frantically searched for my cell phone, I had 45 missed calls from Lindsey. I look over, she is not in her bed. I have just now realized what I have done. She is not too happy on the phone, and orders me to come and open the door. It is 9AM, and she is in her clothes from the night before. She then explains to me that our two freak show neighbors came home and found her sleeping in the hallway, they ever so kindly let her sleep on their bedroom FLOOR! (A prime example in the difference between northerners and southerners, YOU DON’T MAKE A LADY SLEEP ON THE FLOOR! HELLO!!!!!!) Shortly after, L & I attempt to get dressed, and walk down to Qudoba, the best Mexican hangover food in the city, We spent 3 hours there, gabbing over the night before and refilling our diet cokes. Every night with us, was almost always one for the books.
Back to June 28th, 2009. We were dancing to “Wagon Wheel” and screaming the words at the top of our lungs, not minding the odd stares we are getting from the fifty year old men sitting at the bar behind us. The place is dirty, hard wood floors, bull heads hanging on the wall, and a string of bras dangle across the back bar. Cady, Lindsey, and I went crazy every song a came on, Kyle was our DJ for the night. Thankfully we had the whole bar to our selves. I'm pretty sure Brett, Cady's beau thought we were out of our minds, he had a blank look on his face the entire night. Bartenders were forcing shots down our throats and we got wilder and louder each time. I'd look over at Lindsey, she was in a sheer state of happiness, success! Five AM had rolled around, we decided to pack it up and go home. We head back up to our UES Apartment, and cuddle up next to each other in our queen size bed that we had been sharing for the past 6 months.
The next day was a drag for the both of us. Lindsey and I had a ritual, every morning that we woke up hung-over we got food immediately, whether it be EJ'S, Qudoba, or her all time fave Energy Kitchen, and head straight for Bloomies on 3rd for the famous Forty Carrots Frozen Yogurt. Lindsey was way more into this than me, she would go to Forty Carrots every day, three times a day if she could. Her favorite flavor was strawberry and plain, with rainbow sprinkles, AND an extra side of them to dip in with her spoon. I like coffee, with a side of rainbow sprinkles. Another bonding experience between L and I: the fact that we are both equally infatuated with sprinkles, is a little bit scary, and a little bit awesome. We are sisters, and best friends. We know everything about each other, inside and out. She was my rock during our time together in New York. Without her I would be completely lost, and very confused.....Thank God for Lindsey. We had rolled out of bed looking like comlplete hell, Linds would wear these horrible grey fleece sweatpants, that embarrassed me even when she wore them around the apartment, she had her hair in a hat and a pony, and an oversized fraternity t-shirt from her school, with the remains of her make up from the night before. I on the other hand would try to put my self together, of course in fresh makeup, jeans and a pink oxford polo, and large sunglasses to cover my the bags underneath my eyes. We were some pair Lindsey and I. Scanning every floor, dreaming our wardrobes were complete with DVF Wrap Dresses and Chanel flats.
Back in the real world we were getting ready to meet Barclay and Brian, two of the nicest people you will ever meet. We love them, and secretly envy them at the same time. We met at Brother Jimmy’s on the corner of 77th and 2nd Ave. I was exhausted and had no desire to go, but being that it was the last night of Lindsey’s birthday celebrations I had no choice. As we sat at a table in the back, watching all of the drunken fools sing karaoke to The Backstreet Boys, and a string of songs by Journey, I began to feel a little queasy. It wasn’t from the alcohol, and I really had much to eat for dinner, and that night was especially hard for me to down any type of alcoholic beverage. I was talking to B, B, and L about how weird I had been feeling lately. Extreme exhaustion at random hours of the day, pains in my lower abdomen, I had missed my period, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for me, I was always irregular. I told them about the lemonade cravings I had been getting, even in the middle of the night I’d wake up dying for it. I also was moody, and terribly nauseous at times. Barclay shouts out, “Are your boobs sore?”, I screamed, “So sore! I cant even sleep on my stomach!” She replies, “Put your beer down darling, you’re pregnant.”
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