hearted, 24 obsessed roommate of the past year and a half Matt. Now if you’re one of the literally dozen or so avid readers of his blog like I am you might’ve heard about me in previous posts. Since it has been so long since Nitin posted because he in a deeply spiritual search for creative material I offered my services to him as a guest post, and after first making fun of me he agreed. And so, after that long, arduous introduction I will begin my own post.
There are two things which I love about going to college in New York, going to bars and seeing all kinds of crazy shit. Fortunately Wednesday nights often afford me the opportunity to do both. There is a place that I believe resembles heaven called “Second Nature” that
has perhaps the greatest invention in the history of mankind, The Wednesday Night Open Bar. It is a thing of pure genius, fifteen easy dollars to poison yourself as much as you can handle from nine oclock to one oclock. Even since I’ve discovered this sanctuary of fun I have made it my mission to go whenever possible, and not once have a I regretted a night spent there. In one of my final weeks of the semester I made sure to attend this weekly drunk fest with a few
friends and although I do not remember anything after I began drinking a dangerously delicious drink called “Sex on the Beach” there was still enough crazy shit that went on before to entertain the hell out of me.
Upon arriving, I anticipated the bar being nearly empty because we were getting there so early, however the unpredictability of the city reared its head in the shape of what seemed to be an oversized office party that appeared to have been going on for at least a few hours.
What lay before me were at least thirty people over the age of thirty in suits and office attire getting wasted and trying to act half their age. Needless to say, it was hilarious. And of course u know there were younger women attached to the sleazy older men who I assumed had
very large…wallets. It took approximately 5 seconds for one of the girls I was with to get hit on by one of these suits and I duly made note of this. After seeing what I saw I can assure you there are very few things more entertaining than a bunch of trashed, unattractive 30
something year old women acting like they are hot shit and dancing like they were britney spears. This was especially funny (as if it needed any more humor added to it) because they kept falling all over the place. Now I’m not talkin about your harmless slip and get back
up casual drunk fall, I’m talkin head first legs in the air land with a fuckin loud noise fall that everyone hears and I was laughing my ass off at. Call me what you will but nothing puts a smile on my face quite like some drunk working woman fallin face first in the middle of a bar. As entertaining as this all was, the night had just begun and I had many drink ahead of me. Another great thing about open bars is the creativity and adventurousness that can accompany it. Because there is no limit on the amount of drinks you can get you are free to try all kinds of crazy concoctions that may or may not end your life. The drinks that I remember trying that night goes as follows in the order that I can barely remember: Kamikaze, 2nd Kamikaze, Red Bull and Vodka, Vodka Tonic, Sex on the Beach. The Sex on the Beach proved to
be a worthy adversary that night and only God knows what transpired between that time and 3:30 in the morning when I was told by your brave blogger, Nitin, that I arrived home. Although I do not remember much after the first one I have since been told tales of me drinking countless of these throughout the nite and later escaping to the bar bathroom and shamelessly puking in front of the well situated bathroom guard they employ there. Apparently he wasn’t fond of my vomiting and told me to leave, how I got home is beyond me, but when you put your life in the hands of Second Nature you can’t expect to remember all the details, or even hours you were there, but one thing is for sure, once you’ve experienced it you will never be the same.
***
The above was courtesy of Matt, but what follows is all me.
One thing I've learned from living with Matt is that there are almost no places in New York that you can't vomit if you put your mind to it. The most prolific puker I've ever met, I think Matt has upchucked in multiple boroughs on the same night, and even threw up in transit from the Bronx to Manhattan. That's a triple play most people don't have the stamina to pull off. In fact, Matt has been known to hurl in a bar/apartment bathroom, continue on the street, on the 6 train, and still be blowing chunks when he gets back to our place. You'd think I'd be mad, but I just have to salute that single-minded determination.
What made this night fun for me, although I wasn't at Second Nature, was the mystery left on the couch for me. I woke up to another of my roommates getting dressed in a hurry. I asked him what was going on, and he said, "I've got to get out of here before she wakes up."
I didn't know who he was talking about, so I walked into our common room, and saw a shape under a jacket and some of our pillows. It was clearly a girl, but I didn't know who. I needed to find out, so I figured out a clever way to extract this information.
"Yo, who the hell is that?"
My roommate tells me it's a girl who lives in a different dorm, but for whatever reason came home with him the night before. She tried to make out with him, but she didn't know that while my roommate is nice and pretty good-looking, he is terrified of girls. He is just not interested in girls who are interested in him. He also probably didn't want to take advantage of a girl who was very drunk. Anyway, this girl wakes up, my roommate makes a little small talk, and then bounces. I think I should mention that I've never met this girl before, and now she and I are in my apartment alone. It was awkward. After my roommate left, she hung around for about 45 minutes to an hour and seemed too hungover to really go anywhere. Of course, I can't really blame her, she was at the pleasure garden known as Second Nature. It's the kind of place that impacts even innocent parties like me by forcing them to take care of drunk strangers who crashed on their couch and spent the better part of a morning hanging around trying to summon the strength to leave. If you are thinking of going, beware this entirely possible chain of events.
The above was courtesy of Matt, but what follows is all me.
One thing I've learned from living with Matt is that there are almost no places in New York that you can't vomit if you put your mind to it. The most prolific puker I've ever met, I think Matt has upchucked in multiple boroughs on the same night, and even threw up in transit from the Bronx to Manhattan. That's a triple play most people don't have the stamina to pull off. In fact, Matt has been known to hurl in a bar/apartment bathroom, continue on the street, on the 6 train, and still be blowing chunks when he gets back to our place. You'd think I'd be mad, but I just have to salute that single-minded determination.
What made this night fun for me, although I wasn't at Second Nature, was the mystery left on the couch for me. I woke up to another of my roommates getting dressed in a hurry. I asked him what was going on, and he said, "I've got to get out of here before she wakes up."
I didn't know who he was talking about, so I walked into our common room, and saw a shape under a jacket and some of our pillows. It was clearly a girl, but I didn't know who. I needed to find out, so I figured out a clever way to extract this information.
"Yo, who the hell is that?"
My roommate tells me it's a girl who lives in a different dorm, but for whatever reason came home with him the night before. She tried to make out with him, but she didn't know that while my roommate is nice and pretty good-looking, he is terrified of girls. He is just not interested in girls who are interested in him. He also probably didn't want to take advantage of a girl who was very drunk. Anyway, this girl wakes up, my roommate makes a little small talk, and then bounces. I think I should mention that I've never met this girl before, and now she and I are in my apartment alone. It was awkward. After my roommate left, she hung around for about 45 minutes to an hour and seemed too hungover to really go anywhere. Of course, I can't really blame her, she was at the pleasure garden known as Second Nature. It's the kind of place that impacts even innocent parties like me by forcing them to take care of drunk strangers who crashed on their couch and spent the better part of a morning hanging around trying to summon the strength to leave. If you are thinking of going, beware this entirely possible chain of events.
