Open Bar, Dude!

Downstairs neighbor Belle invited me and my roommates Blondie and Randy to a work party at Gemini.  She warned it would be a yuppie uptown chichi crowd, but we went anyways.  Randy couldn’t go; he’s in San Francisco for the last of the Phish shows.

The cover was twenty-five dollars to get in with an open bar from 9-11.  I get a little upset when we don’t get our shit together and over to the bar until after 9:30pm.  I take this opportunity to try all those fancy drinks I never feel comfortable ordering otherwise.  I take a liking to the Vanilla Stoli and Ginger Ale, though I feel a little effeminate ordering it.

The crowd is very uptown, but I hang out with Blondie, Velma, Belle, and Belle’s friend sexy new friend Shavonne.  This is the first time I have ever been out in Manhattan where there were more girls than guys.  There were tons of good-looking girls, but they all had dollar signs in their eyes and very few noticed me.  I’m dressed up somewhat, but not when compared to everyone else.

We power drink; there are always supplemental drinks on our table.  I go in the bathroom to take a leak.  There are two slimy looking stock traders or investment bankers hanging out by the sink.  I had seen them earlier at the bar, checking out Blondie and/or Belle and/or Shavonne.  I stand next to them and start pissing.  They do huge bumps of coke, much bigger than the bumps we downtown boys get to do.  While I’m standing there with my penis in my hand, they offer me some.  That was sweet of them.  I say sure and check which nasal passage is the clearest.  One is always stopped up, sometimes both are.  I have never been able to breathe out of my nose, even after I had my adenoids taken out when I was fourteen.  I do a monstrous bump while the last of the urine exits my body and hits the porcelain.  I can’t rub my stomach and pat my head at the same time, but I sure as hell can pee and snort drugs simultaneously.  I feel like this a total New York experience, like you see in the movies.  It’s nothing to those guys, just a night out, but an experience for me.  I say thanks and go back to the group.  It’s shitty coke, or else my nose is still too stopped up.  Yeah, my left nasal passage is much clearer than the right, I blew that one.

At fifteen-till-the-end-of-the-open bar, we all go up and order three or four drinks a piece.  Our table is littered with cocktails, all colors, all sizes, and all shapes.  It’s a beautiful sight and we take pictures.  Those last us well past midnight.  Belle nearly gets into a fight with a guy after he runs into her and causes gin and tonic to spill all over her chest.  She gets belligerent when she’s drunk, worse than my roommate Carolina even.  The legends of her fury are not exaggerated that much.  She must be a demon in the sack and I now wish that I had slept with her when I had the chance, though I would most certainly be more of a target for her hostility.

Another fight nearly occurs while we are dancing.  Some girl runs into Belle and she drops her drink on the floor.  The two of them just stare at the broken glass.  Then Belle folds her arms and stares at the girl, who is twice her size mind you.  The girl’s man steps up and offers to get Belle another drink, crisis averted.  Somehow Belle and I end up in some secret backroom.  She goes off on me for something or other, yelling at me for all sorts of outlandish shit.  Whatever it was, she was so off base, and I actually laugh in her face.  That gets resolved as quickly and strangely as it came up in a big tearful hug.

We go out to find Shavonne.  Blondie and Velma have gone back to our apartment building on 1st Avenue and St. Marks.  Shavonne is snuggled up with some Patrick Bateman guy on the couch.  He better be enjoying this, he will never have a girl that good-looking on his lap ever again.  Belle thinks he’s a dork and tells him that to his face.  I want to leave, but Shavonne is still smiling and enjoying this tool, so we stay.

Belle and I make a deal that once Shavonne quits smiling, we’ll take off.  We stare at her face, locked in.  A few seconds after stud muffin tells her that he has a girlfriend, she quits smiling.  And so we go!

The entire walk home was Belle and Shavonne bitching about guys and how stupid they/we are.  I get some good insight, but I forget what it was.  Apparently this is like the third night in a row a guy has said to Shavonne that he would really love to go down on her.  I can see that. I had been thinking about it myself.  I end up crashing at Belle’s but leave for my apartment upstairs as soon as I wake up while Belle’s still sleeping soundly.

 

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