For as long as I can remember my family has always maintained a “farm-like” residence in the suburbs of San Francisco…Growing up, we had the normal pets such as dogs, cats, guinea pigs, and hamsters along with the not so standard but still somewhat normal rabbits, turtles, and fish, followed by the true farm yard animals of chickens, ducks and a wild boar (although the boar was only part of the family for approximately 5 hours). So when I showed up at my family’s house nine years ago on break from college with dirty laundry and a baby chick, my parents were less surprised than say, the standard nuclear family in suburbia.
I had rescued Petri, my pet chicken, from a friend;s hungry pet snake and found myself, at the age of 19, the mother of a new baby chick. She lived with me at college, following me around the yard and chirping when I wasn’t around until Thanksgiving when I took her up to my parent’s house to be integrated into the family chicken coop. And while I headed back to college for the winter term, Petri took over my spot (and room) at home…my sister has yet to forgive me or my parents for that experience. And once spring arrived, Petri was outside in the main coop, fighting her way up the pecking order and eventually earning her spot amongst the others. For the years to come, Petri enjoyed a privileged life, being let out of the coop to roam the yard for bugs, chasing dogs and children alike around the lawn in attack/play mode and loving the extra attention from my parents and me. She was as much adored as a family chicken could be.
And as the other chickens died and were replaced, I figured Petri’s days were numbered; she was reaching an unheard of old age for chickens. So while I was expecting to get the phone call from my parents that Petri had died, I would have never expected her to go out fighting a suspected raccoon in the middle of the night, disappearing forever without a trace. Unfortunately, that was the reality I had to face last week, upon returning home from my sister’s house. I felt sick to my stomach looking at the crime scene of missing chicken and an usual amount of feathers, wishing a better end for my first and only chicken. So, to Petri, I hope you enjoyed your nine years as a Gimbel and are living freely up on the hillside, with maybe a few missing feathers, but otherwise, unharmed.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Hiking in the Alps
At some point during Martin’s visit to New York (I think I was wearing a dress and heels) we decided to plan a two day “hut hike” in the Alps for my then upcoming trip to Switzerland. (Definition: a hut hike is a hike through the Alps which takes more than one day and therefore hikers stay at “huts” or modest hostel like structures in the middle of nowhere which provide dinner, breakfast and a place to sleep before continuing on the next day. These huts allow hikers to reach more deserted areas and higher peaks).
Considering I was heading straight to Switzerland from NY and had really only packed city clothes (and my city girl attitude), I had a lot to do to both physically and mentally prepare myself for the adventure. First things first, I needed a proper hiking “outfit” (aka hiking boots, socks, and pants…thankfully Martin was able to supply the rest). With the help of Anna and a lovely sales clerk (who took the time to explain everything – a first for me in Zurich) I was properly equipped with a properly matching outfit. After buying my shoes (which I thought was enough) Martin encouraged me to walk around in them throughout the week to ward off the chance of blisters... Embarrassed with the unfashionable outfit, I spent about 40 minutes on a walk//hike around Zurich feeling somewhat ridiculous.
And finally, with the outfit sorted out and shoes somewhat broken in, Martin and I prepared and packed the lunches and snacks for the two days (dinner and breakfast was provided by the hut). In total we packed five sandwiches, 4 wiener schnitzels, 1 kilo of trail mix, 3 apples, 8 meat sticks and 14 granola bars…some might say we over packed on the food, but given our past experiences of me getting tired and hungry, I still feel it was not overzealous, but rather properly prepared….a according to my mom, a girl scout is always prepared.
Saturday morning arrived and we were up before dawn to catch our train down to the Alps. But first Martin had to tape up my heel to protect my already existing blister from getting worse… unfortunately I had gotten a blister the day before, not from my hiking shoes, but rather the ballerina flats I had worn to lunch. I was definitely the rookie in the group and it was already showing. Thankfully, that was my one and only blister…the boots fit great and I had no additional problems.
We began our hike at the Schynige Platte and ended the day at our hut at Berghaus Manndlenen approximately 4 hours away which included a 450m climb. To avoid an understatement of the scenery, below are some photos from the first day.
Stunning views aside, the highlight of the day was not only hearing, but seeing a large avalanche come off the north face of the Eigor (one of Europe’s most famous mountains). Thankfully we saw it from a safe distance.
We ended the hike with another beer before hopping on the bus/train home. The ride home was quiet (we were completely dead after the hike), but I felt a sense of accomplishment after the two days. And while I still don’t consider myself a hiker just yet, I would love to do another hut hike next summer (although in hindsight, I probably wouldn’t do it the second to last night with Martin for 5 weeks…sleeping in one room with 30 strangers is a different kind of romantic).
Considering I was heading straight to Switzerland from NY and had really only packed city clothes (and my city girl attitude), I had a lot to do to both physically and mentally prepare myself for the adventure. First things first, I needed a proper hiking “outfit” (aka hiking boots, socks, and pants…thankfully Martin was able to supply the rest). With the help of Anna and a lovely sales clerk (who took the time to explain everything – a first for me in Zurich) I was properly equipped with a properly matching outfit. After buying my shoes (which I thought was enough) Martin encouraged me to walk around in them throughout the week to ward off the chance of blisters... Embarrassed with the unfashionable outfit, I spent about 40 minutes on a walk//hike around Zurich feeling somewhat ridiculous.
And finally, with the outfit sorted out and shoes somewhat broken in, Martin and I prepared and packed the lunches and snacks for the two days (dinner and breakfast was provided by the hut). In total we packed five sandwiches, 4 wiener schnitzels, 1 kilo of trail mix, 3 apples, 8 meat sticks and 14 granola bars…some might say we over packed on the food, but given our past experiences of me getting tired and hungry, I still feel it was not overzealous, but rather properly prepared….a according to my mom, a girl scout is always prepared.
Saturday morning arrived and we were up before dawn to catch our train down to the Alps. But first Martin had to tape up my heel to protect my already existing blister from getting worse… unfortunately I had gotten a blister the day before, not from my hiking shoes, but rather the ballerina flats I had worn to lunch. I was definitely the rookie in the group and it was already showing. Thankfully, that was my one and only blister…the boots fit great and I had no additional problems.
We began our hike at the Schynige Platte and ended the day at our hut at Berghaus Manndlenen approximately 4 hours away which included a 450m climb. To avoid an understatement of the scenery, below are some photos from the first day.
We arrived at the hut earlier than expected and enjoyed our first (of many) hard earned beers on the sun deck. In all honesty, beer had never tasted so good. Dinner was served early, so we spent the remainder of the evening in a more-competitive-than-necessary game of Sorry…we were all exhausted from the days hike, but no one wanted to quit without a proper winner. The game finally ended at 10pm, after Braden claimed victory, and we were in bed, fast asleep before 10:30.
We awoke early the next day, ready for the final leg of the hike to Grosse Scheidegg, approximately 5.5 hours away with a 350m vertical climb in the beginning, followed by a 790m descent. The first portion of the hike was straight up the side of the mountain ridge, sometimes closer to the edge than comfortable, so I was thankful for the dense blanket of fog that prevented our views of the steep drop off. Again…snapshots of Day 2.
Stunning views aside, the highlight of the day was not only hearing, but seeing a large avalanche come off the north face of the Eigor (one of Europe’s most famous mountains). Thankfully we saw it from a safe distance.
We ended the hike with another beer before hopping on the bus/train home. The ride home was quiet (we were completely dead after the hike), but I felt a sense of accomplishment after the two days. And while I still don’t consider myself a hiker just yet, I would love to do another hut hike next summer (although in hindsight, I probably wouldn’t do it the second to last night with Martin for 5 weeks…sleeping in one room with 30 strangers is a different kind of romantic).
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Back in der Schweiz
From the city that never sleeps, to the city that never seems fully awake, I headed from New York to Zurich for a ten day visit with Martin and friends. First order of business - stir things up with a proper Hen’s Night (aka bachelorette party) appropriately themed The McLawry Wedding Olympics. I thought it was the perfect idea given the sportiness of the couple to be, Kim and Nick, plus it allowed me to run around the city with a whistle, stop watch and score cards used to score everything from dance moves to barstool dismounts. I may have abused the whistle privileges, but trying to coordinate and corral 24 mostly drunk woman from bar to bar without it would have been near impossible. The party went the full marathon…4pm to 4am. I would call it a success.
Up next , EAT! And eat I did - of course only in the company of friends. I did lunches with old friends and co-workers, sushi with Anna, a BBQ to send off the to-be married couple and my favorite, dinners cooked in with Martin. All throughout this eating binge, I made sure to eat my fill of all things Europe…like missing Mexican while living in Switzerland, I had also begun to miss certain things available only in der Schweiz (kebaps and currywurst just to name a few).
And, not surprisingly, friends and food were not the only thing I had missed…. So in addition to eating the wide assortment of cheeses and drinking the cheap European wines with loved ones, I made sure to do the things only acceptable in Europe - making out in public without getting dirty looks, drinking alcoholic beverages in public and, even better, making out while drinking alcoholic beverages in public… All kidding aside, it was great to be back and it made me miss my life over there…I think the only solution is to split my time between CA and Europe. Now I just need to find a job that can make that happen.
My final order of business while in town was to get prepared for the two day hike in the Alps with Martin, Anna, Braden and Bosco (Braden and Anna’s dog). This task was going to take me all week.
Up next , EAT! And eat I did - of course only in the company of friends. I did lunches with old friends and co-workers, sushi with Anna, a BBQ to send off the to-be married couple and my favorite, dinners cooked in with Martin. All throughout this eating binge, I made sure to eat my fill of all things Europe…like missing Mexican while living in Switzerland, I had also begun to miss certain things available only in der Schweiz (kebaps and currywurst just to name a few).
And, not surprisingly, friends and food were not the only thing I had missed…. So in addition to eating the wide assortment of cheeses and drinking the cheap European wines with loved ones, I made sure to do the things only acceptable in Europe - making out in public without getting dirty looks, drinking alcoholic beverages in public and, even better, making out while drinking alcoholic beverages in public… All kidding aside, it was great to be back and it made me miss my life over there…I think the only solution is to split my time between CA and Europe. Now I just need to find a job that can make that happen.
My final order of business while in town was to get prepared for the two day hike in the Alps with Martin, Anna, Braden and Bosco (Braden and Anna’s dog). This task was going to take me all week.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
I Love this City
With the arrival of Monday, Erin unfortunately had to go back to work (her one week holiday from work had to end sometime I suppose) and Joanna and I (and then just me) were left to navigate the city alone. And after the full day with Joanna, and two remaining days with just myself, I fell in love with NYC all over again.
There is just something so empowering about walking outside, hailing down a taxi and meeting up with friends for dinner or drinks. Or even better, walking down the stairs to the subway and being able to manage the whole city without a map. The diversity and livelihood of the city can be found everywhere: and on any given day or night there is plenty to see and do.
Over the course of the two weeks I ate Ethiopian, Thai, Sushi, Pizza, Hot Dogs, Greek, Spanish Tapas and Italian (enjoyed at the San Gennaro festival in Little Italy). I saw the Counting Crows play in Central Park, an 80’s cover band in SoHo and rocked out like I was Whitney Houston at karaoke. Plus I accidentally ran into Dr. Phil (the real one) on the first stop of his tour across America, caught a glimpse of Bill Clinton and his entire entourage (and just missed Obama) and stumbled across the set of the new Sex and the City movie, where I saw the crew, cameras and lights and Joanna may or may not have seen SJP herself.
We enjoyed long lunches, with sometimes too many cocktails, brunches mid week and spent every day shopping in one way or another. I even broke my cardinal rule and went into DSW aka Designed Shoe Warehouse based on hopes at snagging a cheap pair of Jimmy Choo’s . However, based on past experience, this time around I limited myself to 10 minutes tops and one hot lap to avoid the dreaded DSW effect – after too much time looking at ugly shoes, the least ugly pair tends to start looking incredibly cute and you end up buying a pair of purple polka dotted Charles David heels which could only be worn on a tacky yacht in…well I really don’t know where, hence the problem (this is all hypothetically speaking of course) – to me, this theory also applies to guys in small towns and bars.
But even with all of the celebrity sightings and countless events…my favorite memories from the two weeks include the time I got to spend with my friends who live in NY. Two solid weeks with Erin and one with Joanna, dinner with Katya and the girls on Monday, celebrating Boozeday Tuesday like old times with Lindsay, and drinks with Kim and the old co-workers on Wednesday (although technically Kim doesn’t live in NY, she was just there for business).
The two week holiday was officially over on Thursday…I thought it ended too soon…but I am sure my liver, finances and Erin would probably disagree. Did I mention I was staying with Erin during those two whole weeks in her studio apartment… Yeah, we are good friends, but no one is really THAT close. Love you Erin.
There is just something so empowering about walking outside, hailing down a taxi and meeting up with friends for dinner or drinks. Or even better, walking down the stairs to the subway and being able to manage the whole city without a map. The diversity and livelihood of the city can be found everywhere: and on any given day or night there is plenty to see and do.
Over the course of the two weeks I ate Ethiopian, Thai, Sushi, Pizza, Hot Dogs, Greek, Spanish Tapas and Italian (enjoyed at the San Gennaro festival in Little Italy). I saw the Counting Crows play in Central Park, an 80’s cover band in SoHo and rocked out like I was Whitney Houston at karaoke. Plus I accidentally ran into Dr. Phil (the real one) on the first stop of his tour across America, caught a glimpse of Bill Clinton and his entire entourage (and just missed Obama) and stumbled across the set of the new Sex and the City movie, where I saw the crew, cameras and lights and Joanna may or may not have seen SJP herself.
We enjoyed long lunches, with sometimes too many cocktails, brunches mid week and spent every day shopping in one way or another. I even broke my cardinal rule and went into DSW aka Designed Shoe Warehouse based on hopes at snagging a cheap pair of Jimmy Choo’s . However, based on past experience, this time around I limited myself to 10 minutes tops and one hot lap to avoid the dreaded DSW effect – after too much time looking at ugly shoes, the least ugly pair tends to start looking incredibly cute and you end up buying a pair of purple polka dotted Charles David heels which could only be worn on a tacky yacht in…well I really don’t know where, hence the problem (this is all hypothetically speaking of course) – to me, this theory also applies to guys in small towns and bars.
But even with all of the celebrity sightings and countless events…my favorite memories from the two weeks include the time I got to spend with my friends who live in NY. Two solid weeks with Erin and one with Joanna, dinner with Katya and the girls on Monday, celebrating Boozeday Tuesday like old times with Lindsay, and drinks with Kim and the old co-workers on Wednesday (although technically Kim doesn’t live in NY, she was just there for business).
The two week holiday was officially over on Thursday…I thought it ended too soon…but I am sure my liver, finances and Erin would probably disagree. Did I mention I was staying with Erin during those two whole weeks in her studio apartment… Yeah, we are good friends, but no one is really THAT close. Love you Erin.
Monday, September 14, 2009
New York, New York ...the City That Never Sleeps
This past week in NYC was packed full of events, celebrations and shows…and I am sure each one were amazing…however we (Joanna, Erin and I) didn’t manage to participate in any of them. We opted, instead for the week long “Spring Break-esque” self-made party.
With Erin back from the Hamptons on Monday and Martin on his flight back to Switzerland, Erin took me out to Mexican for my birthday dinner. We started the dinner with margaritas and guacamole…and ended the dinner with margaritas with guacamole. Yes, it was the perfect meal, we each had a pitcher of margaritas and a side of guacamole…no more, and no less (thankfully… any more would have been truly ugly. One of us may or may not have passed out on the toilet later that night). Truly a perfect birthday dinner…and perfect start to the week. Who needs city wide celebrations when you have friends like these!
With the arrival of Joanna on Wednesday night, the debauchery continued without slowing down… that is until our attempt on Thursday evening. After two hot messes of a night in a row we decided to have a low key night at sushi. However, like all good intentions, they were completely shut down after the third bottle of wine…upon leaving the restaurant with hopes of going home, we realized that we were in the “Karaoke” neighborhood and the night quickly took a turn for the worse. (Did I tell you how much I love this city…seriously, what other city has a neighborhood known for its karaoke?). So of course, our mellow sushi dinner turned into a Karaoke marathon at Sing Sing Karoke on Avenue A… We walked into the almost empty bar (the only other patrons were Dr. Phil – not to be confused with the real one, this Dr. Phil was an aspiring singer who probably should keep practicing – and his not so successful voice coach) and owned the microphone for the rest of the night…although the “owning of the microphone” was less due to our singing abilities and more due to the fact that we were the only ones there. We called it a night only when our voices (and the tequila) gave out . But no worries, we had more music in our future…
Two nights later, after trying (unsuccessfully) to get tickets to the MTV Music Awards we traded in hopes of seeing A List celebrities and pop icons, and instead opted for Rubik Cube, New York’s own 80’s cover band on Saturday night. Like all 80’s cover bands playing in a venue with a fully stocked bar…these guys rocked! I can’t tell you what they played, but I knew all of the songs and felt inclined to sing along even when I didn’t know the words…And, at this live show, I was able to get up on stage and rock out with the band…I don’t think even Beyonce would have been as kind.
To wrap up the week of non-events, we skipped out on Fashion Week to do some serious shopping on Sunday…this is of course after shaking off the hangover from 80’s night. And really shopping is the end result of fashion week, so it was almost like we were there (although, instead of buying clothes, we bought books, jewelry and a lamp…yes, a lamp).
Seven years out of college and seven solid days partying it up in New York…yup, we still got it…at least that is what we thought, various other New Yorkers might disagree.
With Erin back from the Hamptons on Monday and Martin on his flight back to Switzerland, Erin took me out to Mexican for my birthday dinner. We started the dinner with margaritas and guacamole…and ended the dinner with margaritas with guacamole. Yes, it was the perfect meal, we each had a pitcher of margaritas and a side of guacamole…no more, and no less (thankfully… any more would have been truly ugly. One of us may or may not have passed out on the toilet later that night). Truly a perfect birthday dinner…and perfect start to the week. Who needs city wide celebrations when you have friends like these!
With the arrival of Joanna on Wednesday night, the debauchery continued without slowing down… that is until our attempt on Thursday evening. After two hot messes of a night in a row we decided to have a low key night at sushi. However, like all good intentions, they were completely shut down after the third bottle of wine…upon leaving the restaurant with hopes of going home, we realized that we were in the “Karaoke” neighborhood and the night quickly took a turn for the worse. (Did I tell you how much I love this city…seriously, what other city has a neighborhood known for its karaoke?). So of course, our mellow sushi dinner turned into a Karaoke marathon at Sing Sing Karoke on Avenue A… We walked into the almost empty bar (the only other patrons were Dr. Phil – not to be confused with the real one, this Dr. Phil was an aspiring singer who probably should keep practicing – and his not so successful voice coach) and owned the microphone for the rest of the night…although the “owning of the microphone” was less due to our singing abilities and more due to the fact that we were the only ones there. We called it a night only when our voices (and the tequila) gave out . But no worries, we had more music in our future…
Two nights later, after trying (unsuccessfully) to get tickets to the MTV Music Awards we traded in hopes of seeing A List celebrities and pop icons, and instead opted for Rubik Cube, New York’s own 80’s cover band on Saturday night. Like all 80’s cover bands playing in a venue with a fully stocked bar…these guys rocked! I can’t tell you what they played, but I knew all of the songs and felt inclined to sing along even when I didn’t know the words…And, at this live show, I was able to get up on stage and rock out with the band…I don’t think even Beyonce would have been as kind.
To wrap up the week of non-events, we skipped out on Fashion Week to do some serious shopping on Sunday…this is of course after shaking off the hangover from 80’s night. And really shopping is the end result of fashion week, so it was almost like we were there (although, instead of buying clothes, we bought books, jewelry and a lamp…yes, a lamp).
Seven years out of college and seven solid days partying it up in New York…yup, we still got it…at least that is what we thought, various other New Yorkers might disagree.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Avenue Q in New York
After two solid days of sightseeing with Martin in New York (did I mention I was in New York for two weeks and Martin came over to celebrate my birthday weekend?), we finally slowed down for a romantic dinner at Kittichai followed by a trip to Avenue Q…to avoid confusion, Avenue Q is not an actual street in Manhattan, but rather a musical on Broadway.
Avenue Q, the musical, is the adult version of Sesame Street, including songs, dances and puppets all there to teach you relevant life lessons. But while Sesame Street teaches youngsters basic skills such as words, spelling and math, Avenue Q teaches twenty and thirty somethings the harsh realities of life. Songs include: “What do you do with a BA in English”, “The Internet is for Porn”, “When You Love Someone (You want to kill them)”, and “I want to go back to college.” After hearing about the show from several friends and our failed attempts to see it earlier in both London and NY, Martin got us tickets for my birthday. Needless to say, I was very fired up!
Within the first song “I Hate My Life”, the show had satisfied all of my expectations. The dialogue was witty, relevant and a perfect portrayal of my generation. And when “Gary Coleman” motor-boated a slutty puppet during one of the many numbers, I was completely sold! If you grew up with Sesame Street and find humor in vulgarity…go see this show! I plan on seeing it again when it comes to San Francisco.
After the show on Saturday, the rest of the weekend with Martin flashed by (we really only did have three nights together) and he left that Monday… but no worries, Joanna was coming in for a solid week of NYC and Erin had an entire week off from work…Can you say trouble?
Avenue Q, the musical, is the adult version of Sesame Street, including songs, dances and puppets all there to teach you relevant life lessons. But while Sesame Street teaches youngsters basic skills such as words, spelling and math, Avenue Q teaches twenty and thirty somethings the harsh realities of life. Songs include: “What do you do with a BA in English”, “The Internet is for Porn”, “When You Love Someone (You want to kill them)”, and “I want to go back to college.” After hearing about the show from several friends and our failed attempts to see it earlier in both London and NY, Martin got us tickets for my birthday. Needless to say, I was very fired up!
Within the first song “I Hate My Life”, the show had satisfied all of my expectations. The dialogue was witty, relevant and a perfect portrayal of my generation. And when “Gary Coleman” motor-boated a slutty puppet during one of the many numbers, I was completely sold! If you grew up with Sesame Street and find humor in vulgarity…go see this show! I plan on seeing it again when it comes to San Francisco.
After the show on Saturday, the rest of the weekend with Martin flashed by (we really only did have three nights together) and he left that Monday… but no worries, Joanna was coming in for a solid week of NYC and Erin had an entire week off from work…Can you say trouble?
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
A Re-Release Party in Vegas
What happens in Vegas, doesn’t always stay in Vegas… marriages and pregnancies to name a few. And a trip to Las Vegas just might “win” you a trip to the Emergency Room. It did for me at least. But not to ruin the story, let’s start at the beginning.
Four years ago, my closest friends and I all met up in Vegas to celebrate our best friend Erin’s upcoming wedding… Unfortunately, the weekend in Vegas was one of the few good things about the engagement…Her marriage, all nine months of it, was a rocky one. And the 2 and half years it took to finalize the divorce, excuse me, annulment, was even worse. So to properly celebrate the end of her own after school special (and I like to think celebrate the friendships that got her through it) this past weekend Erin hosted a girls only weekend in Vegas. It was officially her re-release party. 7 girls: Ange, Anj, Dana, Erin, Joanna, Neff and me, all coming from different places (both emotionally and physically) reconvened in the city of sin for a little over 48 hours.
Stuffed parrot? Check. Eye-patches? Check. Drinking shoes? Check. Dignity and self control? Negative….did I mention that it was a pirate themed weekend?
My journey began at the San Francisco Airport with a $2 bill (I didn’t believe these actually existed, but accepted it as change anyways since it would make for a great story…Dana later informed me that it was in fact legal tender), a few Coors Lights and a greasy cheeseburger that stayed with me (more or less) for the rest of the weekend…f-ing cheeseburger. The flight into Vegas was as shaky as the now dissolved marriage and I was grateful to land in one piece. Thankfully, the massive suite Erin had rented (we had two bathrooms) and whirlpool full of ice, beer and champagne eased my nerves and set the tone for the rest of our “classy” weekend (or at least classier than past trips). As standard for this group of girls, we sat around the hotel room table, drinking beer and chatting it up, while waiting for everyone to arrive…all 4 hours. Yup, we were in Vegas, and the only place we wanted to be was with each other, around a table. As a note: this is normal for all of our vacations…each other’s houses, Europe, Mexico, anywhere. Give us a table, some beer or cheap champagne and we will have a great time (I dare you to call us high maintenance)
After Anj arrived, we finally pried ourselves away from the hotel and made our way to Tao’s Nightclub where we were on the guest list… which is actually pretty standard if you are a decent looking group of girls with little self control. And like all large groups of girls in Vegas, we volunteered our two single ladies to find us a group of guys with table service. Joanna, throughout the course of the night, found two such tables, both willing to give us free drinks, shots and use of their shoes…at least Joanna had use of their shoes (After repeatedly getting asked by the bouncer to put her shoes back on, one of the guys finally offered up his pair) We held strong for a while, but like the old farts we are…we were all in bed by 2am, a true disgrace to Vegas and all things it stands for.
The next day we were woken up with a phone call confirming our cabana reservation. Forgetting about the rudeness of calling anyone before 12pm in Vegas and unwilling to let a good cabana go to waste, we managed to drag ourselves out of bed and get to the pool. We spent the rest of the day at the pool, lounging in our cabana, drinking our buckets of beer and living the fabulous life we lead. To make the weekend absolutely perfect, the DJ made the following announcement …”This just in, Erin from New York’s divorce is now final”…and of course, it being Vegas, the entire pool cheered!
After the full day at the pool we had less than 2 hours to pull ourselves together for a nice dinner at Olives in the Bellagio. Apparently, we did a decent enough job…the manager of The Bank, one of Bellagio’s nightclubs, came over to our table halfway through dinner to personally invite us to his club for the night. We agreed, but only after Joanna requested a personal invite from the manager’s boss. Our perfect dinner (great friends, conversations, food and wine) wrapped up shortly after and we made our way to the club only to find we were a little too early…the club didn’t open up until 10:30. Not to lose us to another club or casino, the manager took us to the closest bar for free shots and then brought us back to the club once it was open. We were let right in, given a glass of champagne…and escorted right back out. We may or may not have been kicked out before 12am.
Just slightly before our bedtime, we headed over to another bar for one last drink and to try and salvage the rest of the evening (aka sober up enough to get into another club). One drink in and we all knew the night was over…Neff passed out at the table…And I am not referring to “passing out”…the act of falling asleep while still trying to maintain composure… I am talking about “passed the f out”…she was perfect model for our photos. We cut our losses and headed home in time for curfew…in bed again by 2am.
Sunday morning was spent like all Sunday mornings in Vegas: hung-over, broke and confused. It took us our entire brunch to piece the night back together and laugh at all of the stories. And while I thought I felt considerably better than most mornings in Vegas, by the time we got to the airport, the shakes and sweats had arrived and even the two vodka sodas I drank couldn’t get me functioning again… I arrived in Vegas looking cute and excited for weekend. I spent my last few hours in Vegas stinky, sweaty, hunched over my cheese pizza trying to not throw up. Man, I love that city!
Needless to say, whether it was the cheeseburger on the way in, pizza on the way out or one of the many drinks in between, when the severe chest pains on Monday morning didn’t go away, but rather, got worse, I thought I was having a heart attack…okay, maybe not a heart attack, but at least something worth getting checked out…hence the trip to the emergency room. Thankfully nothing was wrong, and the doctor chalked up the pains to a chest spasm or pulled muscle. My parents chalked it up to the excessive drinking, pole dancing and/or puking.
Four years ago, my closest friends and I all met up in Vegas to celebrate our best friend Erin’s upcoming wedding… Unfortunately, the weekend in Vegas was one of the few good things about the engagement…Her marriage, all nine months of it, was a rocky one. And the 2 and half years it took to finalize the divorce, excuse me, annulment, was even worse. So to properly celebrate the end of her own after school special (and I like to think celebrate the friendships that got her through it) this past weekend Erin hosted a girls only weekend in Vegas. It was officially her re-release party. 7 girls: Ange, Anj, Dana, Erin, Joanna, Neff and me, all coming from different places (both emotionally and physically) reconvened in the city of sin for a little over 48 hours.
Stuffed parrot? Check. Eye-patches? Check. Drinking shoes? Check. Dignity and self control? Negative….did I mention that it was a pirate themed weekend?
My journey began at the San Francisco Airport with a $2 bill (I didn’t believe these actually existed, but accepted it as change anyways since it would make for a great story…Dana later informed me that it was in fact legal tender), a few Coors Lights and a greasy cheeseburger that stayed with me (more or less) for the rest of the weekend…f-ing cheeseburger. The flight into Vegas was as shaky as the now dissolved marriage and I was grateful to land in one piece. Thankfully, the massive suite Erin had rented (we had two bathrooms) and whirlpool full of ice, beer and champagne eased my nerves and set the tone for the rest of our “classy” weekend (or at least classier than past trips). As standard for this group of girls, we sat around the hotel room table, drinking beer and chatting it up, while waiting for everyone to arrive…all 4 hours. Yup, we were in Vegas, and the only place we wanted to be was with each other, around a table. As a note: this is normal for all of our vacations…each other’s houses, Europe, Mexico, anywhere. Give us a table, some beer or cheap champagne and we will have a great time (I dare you to call us high maintenance)
After Anj arrived, we finally pried ourselves away from the hotel and made our way to Tao’s Nightclub where we were on the guest list… which is actually pretty standard if you are a decent looking group of girls with little self control. And like all large groups of girls in Vegas, we volunteered our two single ladies to find us a group of guys with table service. Joanna, throughout the course of the night, found two such tables, both willing to give us free drinks, shots and use of their shoes…at least Joanna had use of their shoes (After repeatedly getting asked by the bouncer to put her shoes back on, one of the guys finally offered up his pair) We held strong for a while, but like the old farts we are…we were all in bed by 2am, a true disgrace to Vegas and all things it stands for.
The next day we were woken up with a phone call confirming our cabana reservation. Forgetting about the rudeness of calling anyone before 12pm in Vegas and unwilling to let a good cabana go to waste, we managed to drag ourselves out of bed and get to the pool. We spent the rest of the day at the pool, lounging in our cabana, drinking our buckets of beer and living the fabulous life we lead. To make the weekend absolutely perfect, the DJ made the following announcement …”This just in, Erin from New York’s divorce is now final”…and of course, it being Vegas, the entire pool cheered!
After the full day at the pool we had less than 2 hours to pull ourselves together for a nice dinner at Olives in the Bellagio. Apparently, we did a decent enough job…the manager of The Bank, one of Bellagio’s nightclubs, came over to our table halfway through dinner to personally invite us to his club for the night. We agreed, but only after Joanna requested a personal invite from the manager’s boss. Our perfect dinner (great friends, conversations, food and wine) wrapped up shortly after and we made our way to the club only to find we were a little too early…the club didn’t open up until 10:30. Not to lose us to another club or casino, the manager took us to the closest bar for free shots and then brought us back to the club once it was open. We were let right in, given a glass of champagne…and escorted right back out. We may or may not have been kicked out before 12am.
Just slightly before our bedtime, we headed over to another bar for one last drink and to try and salvage the rest of the evening (aka sober up enough to get into another club). One drink in and we all knew the night was over…Neff passed out at the table…And I am not referring to “passing out”…the act of falling asleep while still trying to maintain composure… I am talking about “passed the f out”…she was perfect model for our photos. We cut our losses and headed home in time for curfew…in bed again by 2am.
Sunday morning was spent like all Sunday mornings in Vegas: hung-over, broke and confused. It took us our entire brunch to piece the night back together and laugh at all of the stories. And while I thought I felt considerably better than most mornings in Vegas, by the time we got to the airport, the shakes and sweats had arrived and even the two vodka sodas I drank couldn’t get me functioning again… I arrived in Vegas looking cute and excited for weekend. I spent my last few hours in Vegas stinky, sweaty, hunched over my cheese pizza trying to not throw up. Man, I love that city!
Needless to say, whether it was the cheeseburger on the way in, pizza on the way out or one of the many drinks in between, when the severe chest pains on Monday morning didn’t go away, but rather, got worse, I thought I was having a heart attack…okay, maybe not a heart attack, but at least something worth getting checked out…hence the trip to the emergency room. Thankfully nothing was wrong, and the doctor chalked up the pains to a chest spasm or pulled muscle. My parents chalked it up to the excessive drinking, pole dancing and/or puking.
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