Although by Vol. 4 (aka this past weekend) we had both matured considerably (she now has a boyfriend, no more lucky charms for her!), we still found ourselves in situations that only the two of us could find ourselves in. Standing there in the TKTS booth, looking like such obvious tourists, we made friends with a fabulous gay fellow who was giving us recommendations for a show. He squealed in delight when he discovered we were from D.C. and promptly introduced us to his friend who, also, used to live in D.C., although hates it with a passion (awkward for us, the tourists from this town of hatred). Said friend had just published a book. A book, you say? Why this sparked our interest:
Rabbit: Oh, congratulations! What’s the name of your book?
Gay book writer: (light chuckle): Blackouts and Breakdowns
Rabbit: (after we have exchanged quick know-this-concept-all-too-well glances and suppressing laugher) Ah, yes sound familiar.
Although no actual blackouts and breakdowns occurred, we still have another memorable NYC trip to add to the record books. And, as always, we learned a little bit more about the city we adore from afar, and ourselves.
- Do not visit the Empire State Building in the middle of a hurricane, or other hurricane-like conditions, such as gales and squalls. This does not make for a pleasant view of the skyline, but does create some entertaining videos on your camera. Also, the ESB smells pungently like whiskey. Or maybe that was just us.
- Dudes from Iceland can be very creepy. That is all, Sven.
- An all you can drink brunch can only be made better by subsequently visiting the Museum of Sex. Be sure to grab a cab, and instead of telling him the cross streets, shout loudly, “We are going to the Museum of Sex! Oh, you didn’t hear me, I said the MUSUEM OF SEXXX” and giggle like the 14-year old girls you become after 3 hours of constantly flowing champagne.
- Control your umbrella, bitch. If you happen to lose control and slam it into your unsuspecting friend’s forehead, do not then, ask if she got hit in the face – when you can clearly see the red mark. Concussed!
- If you are lucky enough to be friends with an Irish bartender, he will hook you up. Chicken wings, 4-5 coronas, 3-4 Magner’s and 4 shots (combined here, I’m no alchy!) does not equal a $19 tab. And I thank you, Leprechaun.
- Having the entire bar bust out in song after you play “Come Sail Away” is just awesome. And when you play a single country song, it’s much easier to make friends with “the onlyyy red-blooded republican gals in New York!!!!” or so said the overzealous girl who proceeded to play the Dixie Chicks album anthology. Don’t know if I’m a red-blooded republican, but a Dixie Chicks fan can do no wrong in my book.
- And when you promised your friend you’d only stay for 2 drinks, and she stays for 5 hours so you can play kissy face with a Leprechaun, you know you have a true blue friend.