Wednesday, August 16, 2006

I have itchy feet...but not from jellyfish this time.

I've been mad busy lately, with barely time to come home and sleep, much less blog. I have much to report, but one thing at a time. First, last weekend:

Danielle and her fiance Jon were headed up to NYC to see a few of his friends, and asked me if I'd like to hop in the backseat. I said "sure!" So we jumped in the car early Saturday morning and hit the road. While Danielle gave her best bi-polar impression while navigating the traffic, I said awesome things like, "Is this the New Jersey Turnpike?? Awesome!" and "The Holland Tunnel, yay!" Yeah, I've never driven to NYC before.

Our friend Tony has an apartment in Chelsea, which inexplicably always has parking spots directly in front. We arrived around noon, totally starved. After checking out T-bag's sweet New York digs (yes, it was tiny, and he pays more than C and I pay for our big house, but it was still cute), he gets a call from his Big Firm and is sequestered doing research for a few hours. So his boyfriend Nick took us to Benny's Burritos where we watched out the window for Ethan Hawke or SJP to walk by. No luck, but the burritos were delish.

We walked the few blocks to the river to digest our massive lunch and wait-out Tony, where we saw lots of sweaty, half-naked gay men and lots of dogs. LOTS OF DOGS. Cripes. Oh, and the Statue of Liberty.

Finally Tony finished his work, or at least half-assed it enough for his bosses to leave him alone for a few hours. Our friend Emily lives in Grammercy, so we gathered vodka, mixers, cheese, crackers, olives...and each of these had to be purchased at a different store. I'll say that in one way (though obvs there are a billion) that NYC pwns DC is in simple neighborhood living. You couldn't spit without hitting a tiny grocery mart. Why the fuck is this so difficult for DC to accomplish?? I don't need a freaking Giant or a Safeway and I really don't want a Whole Foods. I want a quaint little store barely the size of 7-11 that sells apples, potatoes, and you know, THINGS TO EAT that aren't day-old donuts and Kit-Kat bars.

So we grabbed our bags, hopped in a cab (NYC pwns DC #2: cabs are so fucking cheap), and made our way to Emily's place (again, sweet pad), and up to her roofdeck. Surrounded by the Chrysler Building, the river, and the Empire State Building, natch, I mixed some damn fine dirty martinis and we munched on brie and olives like the true yuppies we are.

As the sun went down, we changed into our Black Shirts and met up with a few other people at this place called Shag. Tony wanted to take us to some place called Art Bar because he solely lives through other people and thus, was determined to get me laid. Apparently the Art Bar is a little divey and, you know, straight, while Shag is a Not a lot gay, but c'mon, there's shag carpeting on the walls. Emily doesn't "do" dive bars, which is fine, cause it's pretty hilarious that Tony thinks I would find some random dude in some random city and like, bang him. At Shag we met up with Andres (!) who went to school with Tony down here and with whom I became good friends during the many nights of my 3L Gay Bar Bonanza.

After dinner we went to this swanky party thrown by one of the partners in Tony's firm and his big time photographer partner (boyfriend-partner, that is). Nothing much to report there, except the bartender in the kitchen made great, and great numbers of, drinks, and the Gays, Lawyers, and Brazilians at the party were highly unsocial. None of us can remember talking to anyone outside our own group, though we did roam around quite a bit.

For some reason, Tony insisted we each get a drink for the road, which we did (um, Red Bull and vodka? Not my request...) and stumbled to a cab with our libations. We spent the next hour or so wandering around the streets trying to get into bars we were not dressed for, and at one point Tony tried to walk into a bar with his drink still in hand and was drunkenly appalled at being asked to throw it out first.

Finally we settled on going to a diner and I finally got my ice cream, which I'd been pining for all day. Eventually we stumbled home and I slept on couch cushions on the floor in a tiny hallway. Good times.

Sunday we all woke up feeling like we'd been walking across the desert for forty days and nights, due to the bottles of olive juice we had in the dirty marts. Mostly hangoverless, my cohorts went to two different brunches that I had no stake in, while I grabbed a bagel, braved the NYC subway (NYC pwns DC #3: Coffee underground!) and went to the Guggenheim. I've been reading a book all about Peggy and Pollock and friends, so it was a thrill to see the museum in person and take in the Pollock and Kandinksi exhibits running there. Actually, the Zaha Hadid exhibit was the one that blew me away. Absolutely killer models, reliefs, and paintings by this extraordinary architect. I really wanted to by a book, but the flat pictures did them a huge disservice. Instead I bought Art of This Century: The Guggenheim Collection which is enormous but awesome and only $25 (I don't know why it says $45 on that link).

Speaking of money, I don't know how we managed this, but I think I spent less money during my weekend in New York than any weekend I've spent in DC this year that didn't involve watching 24 hours of a NeXt marathon on MTV with the boys. The most expensive thing I did was buy a ticket to the Gugg for $18 (plus the book). It helped that our Rich Friends totally called Danielle and I out on being the Poor Friends by picking up the tab at Shag. Seriously, I love DC, but I'm just going to spend my weekends in NYC from now on. Really, I just have itchy feet. I've never lived this long in one place, and I can feel myself starting to idly consider other places. I don't see myself leaving DC anytime soon, and really, NYC probably is not the place for me, never know!


At 9:51 PM, August 16, 2006, Blogger Washington Cube said...

It sounds like a great weekend, except for the part about shag carpeting on the walls. That sounded vaguely...diseased.

At 10:09 PM, August 16, 2006, Blogger Heather said...

Yeah, to slightly clarify, the shag started about seven feet up the wall (mirrors were at eye level), and it wasn't a bar/club where people would be leaning up against it. Plus (NYC pwns DC #4), no smoking! So it wasn't all discolored. But're not wrong.

At 7:11 AM, August 17, 2006, Anonymous West End Girl said...

you are funny with your gamer lingo. nyc totally pwns dc in about a million+ ways. there's no comparison. but don't be so enamored with the corner grocery and its $4 loaves of bread. it's not that cool when you actually live there. it's a bitch to shop for grocery items in nyc.

p.s. art bar's not a dive. your friend tony must be on crack.

At 2:49 PM, August 17, 2006, Anonymous Nick NYC said...

you are SUCH a fag hag. t says it's been like 2+ years since you got laid. in ohio! just give it up baby. you got it going on. know what they say, use it or lose it.

At 12:15 PM, August 18, 2006, Anonymous wcl alum said...

you do need to get laid. this bblog is getting boring.

At 2:40 AM, August 20, 2006, Blogger Heather said...

ah, my hilariously misinformed commenters. nyc nick, being part of this group of hypersexed whores, i'm not surprised that you think that because i'm not blabbing to anyone who'll listen, i must not be getting any. also, t says you're fat. kisses!

wcl alum - please, stop reading!

west end girl - ha, believe me, to tony, it is a dive bar.


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