POST SUBWAY BARCRAWL 8-8-04
When we got back into the city Anthony suggested we go to a bar that one of his professors tends. He kept talking about how hot she was. We got to the bar and found out that Anthony wasn't lying. His teacher couldn't be older than 30, with long blonde hair and Swedish features.
She got us straight up to the VIP terrace on their roof, where we immediately made our way to the bar.
I n NY smoking in bars is a big legal no-no, so a majority of the bars (that wanted to stay in business and had the space) got smart and made outdoor smoking lounges. This lounge was top notch.
We were chillin' back and shooting the shit, when I saw a cute photographer chick taking candid shots of the crowd, and I heard her mention the words freelance, and magazine. Two things I'm very familiar with.
I asked her if she could take a picture of us with my shitty pentax camera. We started talking and I found that her name was Alexandra and that she was a recent NYU grad and a freelance photographer for Paper Magazine. This bar was apparently being spotlighted in the next issue.
Hi Alexandra! She lives with her boyfriend, so don't get any ideas. But she will be photographing me for my press kit and website sometime in the coming months.
My boyz and me split out of there, the night was young and I had promised to give Ink's Colorado friends a good time.
We rolled up to Korova Milk bar. This is where I had my 21st birthday party, and it's still a cool little venue to chill in. Nice big comfy seats. I had some Red bull and Vodka cherry bombs.
We rolled out of there and down to the L.E.S. We first hit Max Fish, which is like, the traditional "this is what NY bohemian bar should look like."
It was getting a little late so we flagged Anthony so he would be able to drive us back. He must have been pounding them while we weren't looking because for a guy his size he was tanked. Math was beat and wanted to get home too so he started bring Ant glasses of water.
We went down to Pianos and by now I was pretty much panicking, knowing I wouldn't be getting home till like 7am if I was lucky and Ant could sober up.
While we were in Pianos Ink started talking to some chick and her friends, mind you, Ink had already called his LONG DISTANCE GIRLFRIEND who lives in Connecticut. She was driving down in an SUV full of hoes.
One of the conditions of her coming down, believe it or not, was that Ink would have to hook up one of her Horney friends with a guy to fuck for the night. Ink enlisted Brian, considering he had no plans for the following day.
Well, Brian, Math and I stood outside for some fresh air waiting or Ink's girlfriend's homoblile to arrive. Ink had bought some smokes and hit an ATM at the Pizza place on Houston and came running back. He went into Pianos and decided to buy the chick he was flirting with (as well as all her friends) a shot.
Anthony was with him, so like an inconsiderate bastard; he bought Ant a shot too, even though Ant was flagged. Ink waited a few seconds too long to drink his shot, so And drank that as well.
So now Ant was really tanked.
Ink came out and jubilantly told us what he did. I never wanted to slug him so bad in my life. Ant too, cause we needed to get back, and the only one among us who knew how to drive stick was Ant, and he was wasted off his ass.
When I say wasted, I mean, he couldn't walk without leaning on someone or some thing.
Before Math and I could thoroughly ream Ink a new asshole the pussywagon pulled up, and 5 hoes piled out.
While Ink was making out with his chick Brian split out before he'd be dragged out to the Nowhere land of Connecticut.
And in a flash of make-up and cheap perfume they were gone. Leaving Math, a heavily intoxicated Anthony, and Myself in their exhaust.
Math and I decided we had to get Anthony the hell away from the bars. It was now 3 AM. If we walked, maybe Ant could walk off some of the booze.
We were both trying to talk him into puking. He had just slammed those shots and if he would just barf them up he would sober up quicker.
But no, we passed many garbage cans and nothing, he refused to puke.
We finally talked him into giving it a try; he stood in front of the can and then gave up. He had promised us he wouldn't drink past midnight and that the only fucken reason we took his car, and the only reason I had agreed to come out to the city in the first place.
I grabbed him around the waste from behind locking my hands over his stomach and started squeezing his guts and began to pump his belly while yelling at him, "C'mon man puke! Puke it up you fat fuck, just puke! Stop holding it in, puke that shit up!"
By this point both Matt and I were tired of his shit, and were both at our wits end.
We got to Yaffa and got him to eat some carbs to hopefully soak up some of the booze.
Anyway, somehow a few hours he dropped us off at my car. I dropped Math off, and with zero sleep I changed into my suit and drove two and a half hours straight, deep into Long Island for Vern Incognito's Noon Wedding.
Just another day in the life of an Art Juggernaut.
-Cojo