That's not true. No one has ever tried that. But, I was just thinking. The thing about drunk dialing is that it's a lot more interesting than sober dialing. A lot more. I've sort of been bored ever since I stopped.
No, bored isn't the right word. I've been less free. There's something about the thrill of waking up the next day realizing that you said something unbelievably inappropriate. And there's something more about the thrill of wondering if you'll get a response.
Don't bother asking about the picture; it's an accident. I don't even know how it happened but it's called Jetpack Joyride and I cannot stop playing it .
I drove in two days ago from Ann Arbor, through pouring rain, with a girlfriend of mine. We arrived at my apartment at 9 pm. She (Sarah) Left to go stay with a friend. And then, the adventure began. There are four bedrooms in the apartment. One international roommate, from Europe, enjoys allowing his international friends to use our couch as if it were his personal New York City Youth Hostel.
I have to say that during my time in the apartment, I was always a huge advocate for welcoming friends and family to stay. However, until last year there was never a roommate who abused the privilege. At any rate, I enjoyed talking to and seeing the old roommates. Though, I didn't enjoy sharing the living room with a stranger, I got the couch I wanted.
The next morning (buh buh buh): One (shitty) bathroom, six people. I woke up at 8, but didn't pee until about 9:30. Ornery? Yes. The person who's staying in my old room, a very nice young man by the name of Colin, wasn't leaving. He woke up at 8 (impressive), but seemed to have a 10 am start time. I didn't care when he left, except I needed to get into the room he now occupied, to move out the rest of my things. He FINALLY left. All morning I'd been fantasizing about getting breakfast. But, realize two things at the last minute. I can't leave b/c I don't have keys to get back in the apartment, and I can't order in because every breakfast place only accepts cash and I have none. Of course leaving to get cash is out of the question, for obvious reasons. Welcome to New York.
I called my friend Sarah and rant about the situation. She was in the city and I was supposed to meet her later. I decided the best course of action is to start packing up my stuff, hold off on the empty stomach until I get into Manhattan. This actually isn't anything new, these sorts of compromises for the place. I was hungry about 85% of the time I lived there either b/c of a lack of money, time or convenience in feeding myself. I'm pretty frustrated at this point.
I started packing. Get a surprising amount of work done in a short period of time. Shower, outfit, call Sarah. Take the B from 7th into SOHO. Ah, the city. SOHO, one of my favorite places on earth. But, noticed that it's ruined by so many "too cool for school", unfriendly faces stalking the sidewalks. And tourists. There seemed to be an especially high level of models walking around with their books, smokers and people in cliched downtown "cool" outfits. A little bit hipster, a little bit upscale, all black. I should have realized at the time, but didn't, that it was the day before fashion week. So the place sort of looks like the sartorialist vomitted.
Meet Sarah, look for a place to eat. Poor thing, she was trying to suggest places to go, talking about this place has good, soup, salad, Mercer Kitchen. I look over at Mercer. "I need. food. Not faggy up-the-ass soup and salad from Mercer Kitchen." We went into a dive across the street that has BLTs. And soups. And salads. I was pissed off. Hungry as hell, hating every single person I saw. This is why New Yokers are assholes.
She and I eat, have a glass of wine. Feel Better. Shop. MoMa. Everything is lovely. Miss New York. Talked about moving back someday when I make more money. On the high-line, definitely want to move back. After MomA, Pass by Alec Baldwin on the street. And then, the rain. Slowly at first until there were huge drops coming hard and fast. 5th Ave, cabs, cabs everywhere, but not a single one that's empty or on-duty. Soaked. Defeated. Hungry (again). Sit on the stone steps of a church that are only dry b/c of scaffolding above. I say, "Only in New York can you be surrounded by endless modes of transportation and be deserted." Sarah's Response, between puffs of a cigarette (though she successfully quit months ago): Stranded as Fuck. Hate New York. Can't wait to leave. Fuck this place.
Again, struggle to find a place to eat b/c of the debilitating, overwhelming, number of choices. Yelp app not working, too much fog in midtown. Hungry. Midtown expensive, can't get anywhere else. Trains blocks away, no cabs, not enough cash for a snipe cab and no ATMs or banks in sight. Finally settle into an Italian place and a meal that costs $72 per person.
Hour long train ride home. Miss light, unconditional love and my Mom's dog. Settle into my couch at around midnight to pass out. Foreign exchange friend still up. Lights on, computer on. Asks if I want lights off. No, it's fine. Assume she'll be in bed soon anyways. Pass out. Wake up at 2, she's still up. Fuck me. Lights now hindrance to falling back asleep. Finally get up and turn one off. 30 minutes later, she's in bed. And it's dark.
This morning had to wake up at 8 to move the car for street cleaning. Come back at 8:30. She's not awake yet. Turn on the lights. She tries to stay asleep through it, but stirs occasionally and finally sits up at 9:15. Do I feel badly? Well, I've been in NYC for 24 hours. So, no. Sorry Sweetheart, this isn't a hotel.
How can a place so great, be unbelievably terrible at the same time? I don't have a clue.
Though before I went to sleep I realized that I missed New York, but only in the way a kid must miss his favorite toy that's been taken away. Why would someone take a kid's favorite toy away? Because he played with it too much, it prevented him from growing up and didn't add any real value to his life.
