Last weekend was my almost-annual girls’ trip to New York City. The weekend was relatively tamer, but no less fun, than previous trips. On Thursday morning, before I left, I was in the shower, which seems to be Pie’s favorite place to have a conversation with me. Adam was in there getting ready for work.
“You need to send me LOTS of pictures while you’re gone,” Pie told me.
“Of what?” I asked her. “This isn’t a sightseeing trip? What am I going to send you pictures of? Everything I drink?”
Adam snorted.
“Yes!” Pie said. “Send me a picture of everything you drink! Everything!”
And so I did. And in the ultimate cop-out, I decided that instead of blogging about my trip, I’d tell you about it through the drinks I drank. So, bottoms up!
While the Acela offered such delights as beer, wine, and hard liquor, I opted to stick with a Perrier, as I wanted to make sure I didn’t fall asleep before seeing my family.
Even though I didn’t arrive till past 9, I made it awake long enough to have dinner with my sister. Second drink of the night, with the Tweedle Twirp, at the sushi place near my parents’ apartment.
This was drink #3, 4, and 5, and probably #12, 23, and 42. I always complain when I’m at my parents that they prematurely wash my water cup, but as they left town shortly after this drink, I knew my water glass was safe.
Coffee. With my parents. At my new favorite breakfast place, the Cookshop.
Lunch was midtown, and a lovely little Turkish place, Taksim, with the most amazing bread and tzatzki. My lunch mate was a college friend.
Friday night brought me the first alcoholic drink of the day, if you can believe I waited that long. Another friend from NYU, Brian, was reading from his book at this nifty performance space, Dixon Place, on the Lower East Side.
Of course that drink led me to be late to meet up with Scooby and Lilith who were arriving from home, but I found my way to them, and in the pouring rain we headed to Barbuto where I had a Sazerac.
From there we met up with the Tweedle Twins and headed to Louis while we waited to be called for a table at Death and Co. While there I pissed off the bartender by asking a few too many questions (probably not a good idea to ask him, when he referred to the drink menu, if I should be concerned by his lack of confidence in my drink; the man was clearly no bartender, but a mixologist, and he was not amused by me, not one bit), but my drink, a Presbyterian, was delicious. That’s a clearly tipsy Lilith behind me.
Death and Co. never called. We walked by and were told that they didn’t have any tables for six, and they closed in about 45 minutes at 3. So the Tweedle Twins went home. At which time the bouncer told us we could have a table for four. And with only a smidgen of guilt about basically ditching the Twins, we took the table. I asked for the spiciest drink they had, which turned out to be an East River Underground. Of course it was so dark, you could barely see it.
The next morning came quickly. Waaaay too quickly. And while I had been looking forward to a mint julep at Schiller’s Liquor Bar, all I could manage was coffee and a burger.
.
I continued this healthy drinking right through my cupcake and milk…
…though I threw in the towel when we headed to Broadway to see Kinky Boots. At the theater, one may purchase a sippy cup of wine, with the choice of a single or double. I ordered a single, which was still a full 8 ounces of alcohol. And truth be told, it was gross enough that I dumped most of it in the toilet at intermission.
But the wine at dinner redeemed the fortified grape industry, although dinner at 11:30 p.m. is tough for an early bird like me. But the food at Lavagna was worth it.
After dinner, the Twins joined us again, and we went to Ace for beers, but it was so freakin’ dark that none of my beer pictures came out. Instead this is a picture of me and Tweeds killing moose. I was initially excited because I thought the game involved killing cows–and as you all know I have a long history with cows–but it turns out killing cows is a mistake that loses you points. And it led to a long and pointless conversation about the lack of wild cows and my insistence that at one point, before they were domesticated, there had to be wild cows and perhaps somewhere there was a colony of wild cows and we could find it and shoot the cows. By this time, everyone but Lilith had left me, so I just shot moose and then Lilith and I walked back to the apartment.
The next morning, despite getting home around 3 a.m., Lilith and I were both up early so we grabbed drinks–iced coffee for me, iced tea for her–and took a walk on the High Line. Unfortunately I was hazy enough that I forgot to take a picture of my drink before I finished it, so this is Lilith’s drink, which I was holding while she found a bathroom.
The final drink of the morning was a rather tasty, tart grapefruit juice, of which I partook at brunch at Markt, where they still giveaway matches (and yes, I took, one or twelve).
And then I hopped the train back to Boston. Where no one cares what I drink.
