This is the epic tale of two girls on a Tuesday night.
I was meeting my friend Amanda for dinner in Upper West, and she got there a bit earlier than I did and waited for me at Jakes Dilemma. We got some drinks, were catching up, when this petite gentleman (if you can call someone in a hoodie “gentleman”) orders 7 car bombs and 7 jaeger bombs. I’ve been watching a lot of Criminal Minds lately, and I deduced that any man buying 14 bombs can afford to buy at least 2 more.
“Seven car bombs and seven jaeger bombs, eh?”
“What are you celebrating?”
“Winter break!” (oh school breaks how I miss you)
“Wanna make that 9?”
That’s how easy it was to get a free drink, my friends. It seems like no one here is ever too hard up to buy a fellow bar-goer a drink. So we take the drinks, and the little guy leaves. Okay, whatever. He comes back up a few more times with his merry band of thieves, each time buying us both a drink and then leaving again. I felt bad, but to be honest it was the perfect situation: all of the perks with none of the effort of holding a conversation. He did introduce himself to me as Odysseus, to which I replied “Nice to meet you, my name is Penelope” (I can never pass up a good English major joke).
During one of the breaks between drinks, two guys and a girl walk in and start playing beer pong in the back. Lately I’ve been missing beer pong more than I miss Glee, so after some coercing from Amanda, I join the lone man’s team (mostly because he was a cutie). Id like to take this time to bestow upon Amanda the Wingman of the Year Award for dutifully watching our stuff and playing Big Buck Safari while I drunkenly made passes at this guy.
After the game – which we won, no thanks to me- he excuses himself to play foosball with his coworkers and his boss, who just arrived. I go back to sit with Amanda, and we remembered that we should probably actually eat dinner at some point. So we decided to get pizza across the street and call it a night. But Amanda wouldn’t let me leave without giving my number to that guy. I am of the school of thought that if he doesn’t ask for it, he doesn’t want it, and refused to make a fool of myself. Anyone that knows Mander knows she isn’t bashful in the least, so she wrote my number on a napkin and gave me an ultimatum with no room for negotiation.
I went over to say my goodbye and sneakily (or not so sneakily, Im a little fuzzy at this point) slipped the napkin in his pocket, fully expecting to get ridiculed out of the bar. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, although I don’t know if I was running so quickly away from the embarrassment or towards the pizza. But thats neither here nor there.
Im in the middle of scarfing my pizza when my phone rings and who is it but Hedge Fund Paul?! “Hey you should really come back over here, its pretty early and Im just with my coworkers.” You don’t have to tell me twice! Amanda graciously bowed out, and I went back for round 2. This time we were teammates at foosball. I hate that game because 1) it mimics soccer which I dont quite understand 2) the little guys on polls are just so un-agile and 3) I have ridiculously poor hand-eye coordination skills. Im already the girl that just sees how fast I can spin the little guys, and with my further-impaired motor skills, I think I scored more points for the other team. Which was unfortunate because the losing team had to take shots of Jack, and it became a vicious cycle of losing-shot-shutout-shot-embarrassing defeat.
After a few games, HFP and I finally call it quits and talk for a little at the bar, where I may or may not have called his boss Napoleon Bonaparte and insinuated that he just got back from a vacation on Elba.
After that, to the best of my knowledge, I took a cab home and passed out. Unfortunately all the Red Bull from those jaeger bombs kicked in around 5:30 AM and I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I had the distinct pleasure of being acutely aware of my hangover developing into a full-blown death wish.