NYC and Guilty Pleasures

Back in February, I went to a club called Pacha to see a DJ called James Zabiela. If you read the post then you know this was pretty much the best time, ever. Well, I've been again this past weekend, and this time, since Andrew is still in Africa, I took Erin. We got that party started. Rather than show up fashionably late and have to stand in line for an hour and pay the $30 cover (after midnight) like I did last time, we went early and didn't stand in line at all or pay any cover and when we bought our drinks - they were oversized! It was still $40 for 2 tequila shots + 2 Stoli & tonics, but they were BIG!

The highlights were: climbing on the DJ booth to get a high-five from Zabiela himself, being mistaken for a drunk girl from Russia on more than one occasion, finding an empty space behind the DJ booth where Erin and I busted out our completely silly kickass moves only to be "circled" by a group of old Japanese men wanting us to dance-off, the really cold dry ice "white outs", the guy from Indiana who did a really bad Harvard impression when he found out we were from Dartmouth (idiot), and the guy who bought us another round of tequila and then wouldn't take his hands of Erin's hips saying "Oh, don't worry. I won't touch you inappropriately; I love my wife. I just want to dance with a hot Latina." Erin is from upstate NY. Like, 10 generations back. One of the whitest families I know...

AND THEN...Erin, B, B's boyfriend (whose apartment in Midtown we stayed at), B's boyfriend's cousin, and I walked to a Chinese Restaurant for breakfast. Erin and I were still exhaustion-sick so this was less than ideal. All we wanted was bagels, like normal white people. On our way back, we swung through 5th Avenue - the shopping one. I had to go into the Prada store, just to say I'd seen it. And in I walk in my denim skirt, Reefs, and cut up beater. The staff were still perfectly attentive, though, and I appreciated that. I found the $1,675 bag that I will own someday when I marry a Rich Man. And then I made a reasonably small purchase. Holy Lord I bought something at the Prada store. B called me a tourist. I am a tourist.

And OH, it gets better....on the drive home, B and I are starting to get hungry because traffic has been heavy. B mentions how she always craves McDonald's when she travels. I am strongly morally opposed to this. Another hour later and I cave. We walk into the tiny building and immediately laugh at "parfait" on the menu and start quoting Donkey. We order Chicken Selects, a Big Mac, a Filet-O-Fish, and a cheeseburger - just for the two of us. B is convinced that we didn't get the cheeseburger because I had finished it before she ever saw it.

And then we got back in the car and put on the iPod "favorite music from high school." It was disgustingly delicious.

1 comment:

Erin said...

pictures pictures pictures! I demand pictures! or at least one of Prada-love.