Well, this past weekend was a smashing success, I gotta say. We got some fantastic hang time with a few friends we haven’t seen in awhile. And let me tell you, it’s so nice hanging out with people you like. It makes hanging out with people that much more enjoyable.
Friday night we were paid a visit by Rob and Katie, two old work buddies from Element79 who were in town for a producer’s summit. We were gonna go out on Thursday, but we decided to hold off one more night so we could do dinner and really whoop it up afterward.
I suggested either Thunder Jackson's Urban Roadhouse, or Señor Swanky's Mexican Cafe and Celebrity Hangout. We ended up going with the Tribeca Grill, a fancy restaurant in our neighborhood rumored to be owned by Robert DeNiro who, to our shock, was not in attendance. What a gyp.
Regardless, the food was excellent, and we washed it down with large amount of delicious, delicious alcohol, including a bottle of pink bubbly ordered by Rob. Halfway through dinner, I was already “tellin’ it like it is!” and the night was just getting started.
After that we stopped by a neighborhood bar for a couple beers, before deciding that we should bring our friends back to check out our place and touch our stuff. Now, I have to admit, things got a little hazy around this point in the evening, but the flashes of memory I do have include the following:
1. Watching a Steve Martin magic act on YouTube.
2. Cursing the locked door to the rooftop deck, staggering down to ask the doorman what the rooftop hours are, only to have him (Howie, not recognizing me) respond, “the rooftop is closed at two thirty in the morning.”
3. Having a loud, passionate sing along at around 3 in the morning to Puff the Magic Dragon.
We woke up the next morning with angry brains, a foul taste in our mouths, and some confusion over what happened the night before. And you know you’re getting old when, instead of cigarette butts in beer bottles to remind you how the night went, it’s the iTunes purchase email for Puff the Magic Dragon that makes you mildly queasy.
The following night we met up with my old college buddy Kurt, who was in town from Newburgh, NY, which is about an hour north of the city. We headed out to a bar, had a few drinks, and pretty much called it a night. When Kurt, who’s about 6’6”, decided to generously pick up the bill, he had our friend Ken sign it for him. Why? Who knows? But Ken dutifully capitalized on the opportunity to make Kurt look like a prick by signing, “Kurt Najork, #44, “ his high school basketball number.
The following morning, Kurt stopped by to check out our place, before we all piled into his car and headed up to The Stumble Inn for beer and football. Our buddy Tyler’s younger brother Keith tends bar there, so we yukked it up, made fun of some hillbilly Dolphins fans, and decided to head home.
Highlights from the day were Crissy’s onion rings, and my burger stuffed with Swiss cheese. Which, not surprisingly, were lowlights several hours later.
P.S. This is a picture Katie and Rob. I think they're trying to figure out who's singing lead and who's singing harmony on "PTMD; the Extended Jam."
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