Saturday Night Fever

Somewhere along life's journey, my youth seems to have escaped me. Large crowds don't interest me, an early bed time seems appealing, liquor makes my head spin, reading glasses are needed when I wear contacts, good wine and conversation over dinner with friends is my idea of rockin' night out, and clubs have become my worst nightmare. I tell you, Friday night comes along and I'm lucky if I can accomplish making it to spin class after working all day, taking a cool shower afterwards, possibly feeding myself and not passing out on the floor next to my bed from pure exhaustion.

After finding out that yet something else was broken on my car on Saturday, the best solution I could come up with to fix everything was to get drunk and play board games. So, I hit up my friend Niles (another transplant from NY living here in Northern Virginia) and told him of my plan. He then proceeded to tell me that he knew of place in DC that provided board games, mini golf, skee ball and alcohol.

When I picked him up he handed me a water bottle with some kind of pink liquid inside - a concoction of triple sec and pink lemonade. I love a good mystery drink every now and then. After a slow drive in my broken shakey car, we arrived at H Street Country Club and I ordered a $10 glass of Grey Goose and cranberry to start the festivities. I was handed practically a shot glass of bright red juice. I asked the bartender to add some more vodka to my drink and he stood there, stared at me, cocked his head to the side, and got glassy eyed. You would think I just asked him to kill my puppy while speaking Farsi.

Perhaps he added too much vodka after that because within 5 minutes I began sweating like I was Whitney Houston running a marathon. My hair was drenched and my makeup was running down my face. It felt like I was going through the changes of life. Did I mention yet that I'm only 26? I think Niles finally started making fun of the sweating after my hair dripped on him while playing mini golf. There really was no hope left for my attempt at looking attractive, I would just have to go for that atheltic look for the rest of the night.

After he shamed me in golf, we took a quick drive to another location in DC, wandered around a bit and stumbled upon this place underneath a mattress store. The music was good, the place had a good vibe, and it was dark so no one could see what a mess I looked like. I danced for about three hours straight, while some random stranger who was poppin bottles kept pouring me champagne. We started to leave at around 3am when the place was closing, and I think I was too sober to witness the mess of drunk bitches all around me. Did I miss the memo that said getting drunk to the point of not knowing what gender you are was the way to go? I specifically remember seeing this one woman, who could barely form two words together without slurring and drooling on herself, being lured out of the club by some old hairy dude. Mmm, I miss being 19!

"Tackle drunk bitches"

I woke up on Sunday at around 1 in the afternoon feeling like a truck hit me and dragged me down a long stretch of unpaved highway. I didn't have a hang over, because I never got drunk the night before, but somehow I over did it by staying awake past 11pm and could no longer function as a human. The most strenuous thing I was able to do was roll from my left side to my right.

I think I'll read a book this Saturday.