Forgive me, dear blog readers, for I have been remiss! It's great to be busy, but sometimes life just gets away from you for a bit. That being said, here's a story.
I had been blessed for a few months to have not one, but two fabulous Norwegian roommates! As I have said to other people before, most people don't even have one Norwegian roommate, but I have two!! SEP is a friend of CN's and now, of course, of mine too. I am sure we will have many divine adventures together, so you'll be seeing her name more often. Life in New York is certainly a struggle, for even the most successful people, but having a wonderful roommate--nay, a friend who lives with you and whose company you quite enjoy--makes life that much easier. So knock on wood!
CN departed for the Motherland this past Wednesday, and to celebrate we had one last night out. What was funny was that I thought we were just going for ice cream, so 10 minutes before we were supposed to leave, I threw on a pair of jeans and went to wash my face, only to see CN curling her hair in the bathroom. "My, you're getting awfully dressed up just for ice cream!" I laughed. "What?" she said. "We're going out! It's my last night!" Ohhhhh. Insta-fashion challenge accepted! I changed into something more fabulous and threw on a fur.
We made our way down to Serendipity 3, the restaurant famed for its frozen hot chocolate. Despite the chill currently in the air, CN had read about the treat in a book I had called "The Best of New York" and decided she wanted to go before she left. I skipped dinner because I wanted to have one little restaurant's famed desserts instead. So not only did we have the frozen hot chocolate, which tastes exactly as it sounds, but I also had a Drugstore Sundae, with three scoops of vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream. Trust me, friends, it may sound simple, but that is what a hot fudge sundae is supposed to taste like. Thick, almost pudding-like hot fudge--none of this chocolate syrup nonsense--and homemade whipped cream that was fluffy and cloud-like. I ate all of the ice cream, since the hot fudge was too rich to eat just by itself.
Our next stop was The Randolph, at the suggestion of CN's gentleman friend. I say this last fact because it was very much a man-bar, but not in the obnoxious frat boy way. This was the bar of a man who read GQ but didn't wear a suit all the time, who wore loafers or wingtips without socks and had a groomed mess of facial hair. Leather couches, walls of dark-paneled wood and, interestingly enough, only artisan cocktails--no Red Bull and Vodka up in this joint. We drank a bunch of wine and talked about nothing, as we are wont to often do. Having been on medication and without alcohol for a while, my one glass of Malbec left me muttering absurdities as we took a cab to our next destination at around 2 am. Because having a next destination at 2 am is one of the great things about New York.
It turned out to be Le Baron, where everyone (except me, comically enough) wears black or white or flannel and looks like they just left an art gallery in Brooklyn. The club is sandwiched between a series of Chinese funeral homes at the intersection to two streets I've never heard of in a sort-of Chinatown-ish area. Dear lord, these hip places are just in the most absurd locations, aren't they? I'm having a Stefon moment just thinking about it. Having the velvet ropes lifted for us, we entered into a dark space filled with false smoke from a machine nearby. On the tiny dance floor, the DJ was killer (Franco V who, surprisingly, was not a guido), though--lots of old school tracks mixed with fresh ones, like Snoop Dogg next to Hall and Oates next to Springsteen next to The Ting Tings. At 3:30, SEP and I decided to call it a night and we drunkenly talked about our exes and how unhappy they made us on the way home. While SEP smoked a cigarette on our fire escape, I checked my email, because that's what I do at 4am. CN called me and asked me what that drink was that we had almost a year ago, when I took her to "that Jewish place? Something creamy?" she half-slurred. It was an egg cream, I said. I will miss her.
Step 1: Move to New York. Step 2: Have experiences.
