For part 1, click here.
We were checking out a couple of guys that were about 20 meters east of us. Not sure how the convo started, but I probably called one of them over b/c I thought he was cute. Turns out they were friends of ASFKAB! In my usual style, I was flirting and not-so-subtly checking out one of their asses (he had a NICE one!). Turns out he was Polish (off the boat), and Urban Sprawl made a joke about the need for historical accuracy in that other countries usually invaded Poland. We end up talking in a circle, and at some point, it popped into my head (since this had happened at the beach last year) that I should shank Bottomless Pitt. Riiiiiiiiight NOW! The looks on everyone’s faces were priceless (especially BP, who was now bottomless and topless). To make a long blog post less long, she believes this event directly led to her making not-so-soft core porn on her blanket with ASFKAB’s friend, Bro Vandecamp. I had to turn around when I heard, “Don’t get off me. I don’t want them to see my erection.” . o O (Maybe Pitt is bottomless) Soon thereafter, Bottomless Pitt calls me over in a hushed voice. I’m thinking, if they’re gonna ask me to join in on a 3-some, I’m gonna be so mad! Turns out they were planning a cook out at Wesberry’s Westbury estate and wanted us to come over. And I was offered a ride back to Manhattan! Peace out, Ivy Leaguers.
‘Twas the end of the afternoon, and we packed up to go. MicHELLe was falling over from my generous Gatorade bottle, I had done some serious flirting with a Polish kid, and Bottomless Pitt was more than ready to go. It was at about this time that Fung Wah (not named because he’s Chinese, but because he lives in Chinatown, like the bus) showed up. Good timing. Fung Wah and Prada Bag (yes, she works in fashion) decide they want to join the BBQ. The “$10 cab to my house” ends up being $10 per person, but it was a spacious house with air conditioning. First order of business was to take a shower. Somehow, even with SPF 50, I got tan lines (see the "Shocker 2.0" picture above and to the left for skin tone reference). We had some more drinks, there was lots of grilled meat, I flirted more with the Polack, subtly sliding my phone across the table to get his number. I loved that I didn’t have to say a word; he just typed it in, typed in his name, and slid it back with the contact still open (so I could add “from the beach” to his name in case I forgot).
Westberry decided to stay in Westbury. Un4tunately there was only room for 5 in Bro Vandecamp’s vehicular, so Fung Wah and Prada Bag had to take the train back. I’m not even sure they’re friends, but they either love or hate each other after that LIRR ride. On the ride back, the Polish guy had a headache, so he requested classical music. Another one of ASFKAB’s friends, who was our fifth passenger, asked why we were listening to “fancy” music, which we all found… amusing.
I was supposed to meet tOWGA at Suite before our party at our Columbia Law friend’s apartment, but I ended up telling him to meet me at CoLaw’s (if you’re from SC, I’m winking at you) b/c we were running late. CoLaw, Bottomless Pitt, and their friend Bunifa (whose name shall be explained soon enough) were part of a group that called themselves the Hot Ghetto Mess Drinking Team during their Ivy-League undergrad years, so I knew I was in for quite the spectacle. The invite on Facebook included a picture of a watermelon bottoming for a (plastic) bottle of vodka. Wow.
I had forgotten that CoLaw or any of her roommates may have had straight friends until I got a firm handshake from some guy there. Because I obvi needed more to drink, I had some generic red juice from a cooking pot. And by generic I mean strong. tOWGA eventually came and spent much of his time in the kitchen saying ignorant shit to people that mostly couldn’t hear him (see why we like each other). After a couple of hours, I started to rally the troops to move on to Suite. Apparently, all the straight people had been scared off into one of the rooms b/c the gays had taken over the living room. Oops. I stuck my head into the room to tell Bunifa we were about to go. She had a small bottle of Maker’s Mark in her hand. And no cup. Amazed.
So we get to walking, and Bunifa is literally screaming (in delight) at Pubic Finance. Shrieking. Yelling. I whispered to Pubic, “I don’t think she’s gonna get into the bar. You might wanna be prepared to flag down a cab,” but he just shrugged it off.
We get to the bar, and there’s no bouncer. They were in the middle of a drag show, but the real show was happening in our corner. The DJ made all kinds of announcements to keep the middle aisle clear, and of course Bunifa takes this as an invitation to dance and prance there. The drag queen was pretty gracious and engaged her a bit, but Bunifa was a mess. At one point, she just spat on the stage. About 5 minutes later, the drag queen almost slipped on it.
A glass fell and broke. Oops. Another glass fell. Okay. When the 3rd glass fell (keep in mind that she’s still screaming every so often and stumbling very so often… a friend later told me that she was actually throwing the glasses) the owner comes up and tell her to get out. They had stopped the show and everything. She starts out calm and offers to pay for any damage that was done, but the owner isn’t having it. He’s being assertive and on the verge of yelling, and she’s really not getting it. Pubic Finance offers (repeatedly) to be responsible for her and make sure she doesn’t do anymore damage (btw, she’s wasted too, but less obviously so). Finally the bartender (slash security) comes over and is a lot more aggressive. The whole time, she’s demanding, “What did I do?” to which they respond, “You need to leave!” It was actually kind of hilarious b/c when the owner came, she was standing, and when he approached her, she turned into the damsel in distress, shying away from him and acting timid. She backed into a seat on the wall as the crowd started yelling “kick her out!” When the bartender (slash security) came over, she was still sitting. He got up in her face, and that’s when she accused him of humping her leg. Really? So she gets up and starts to walk towards the door, yelling something about suing the place. I was genuinely scared. Not so much because I thought they would kick me out too. More because I thought she was going to start swinging and it would turn into a messy brawl. Hello: I had braces for 3 years in middle school, and I cant really work out with a broken rib. That rules out ALL fighting.
The show goes on after they get her out. The drag queen falls HARD at one point and says, “I’ve been waiting for that to happen for 3 years, so thank god I got it out of the way!” Then she jumped off the side of a buffet into a split. I couldn’t. So tOWGA and I left. And Bunifa, Pubic Finance, and PF’s BF were still outside the bar. Wow. Oh well, time to go to Connecticut (okay, okay, Westchester).
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