Immediately hit up Lombardi's with plans to see the Upright Citizen's Brigade (and till now am sure it is destiny that I remembered it was on that night) followed by Cienfuegos.
Little did we know that night at UCB would be the best thing of ever. The brain-exploding awesomeness when AMY PHOLER walked onto the empty stage as the night's host, then proceeded to introduce RACHEL DRATCH, as well as Jon Lutz, Zach Woods, a couple of our favourite regulars and…some MC who really sucked. Which in a way was good, because otherwise we may have just died from not getting a reprieve to breathe from all the laughter. I was unintelligible for about 2 hours (excluding intermission and anytime the MC was up).
At UCB: watching you pee.
PRO-TIP: If you find yourself down Cienfuegos way, get the House Zombie 20. Not because of the name (which is a reflection of what it's served in), but because it is sublime. Be warned there is a one-per customer limit, whereas you can order all the rum bowls you want - to give you an idea of potency.
General roaming around and showing off NYC to our friend who was a first-timer. (I got rewarded by her sharing her flu with me. Friggin' cooties... see if I'm ever nice again) See a Timmy's in TS which was just weird.
Oh, and I got Marylin Monroe'd on 8th. I didn't realise that was a real thing until then. Now I - and everyone else on 8th at the time - know it is. They may also know I am partial to lacy neon underthings... Clearly important information to have. Very careful about wearing certain skirts from then on.
All whore'd-up for New York. Because this makes sense to someone.
Lead gang on off-trail run through Central Park. I went easy since I was totally making the route up but am still a li'l proud of them for managing. Later discover Baked by Melissa, (read: MOOLISSA) and her wonderful tiny cupcakes. I want to Scrooge McDuck in them.
Post-dinner: Wherein I learn I hate Brooklyn Bridge, and cyclists, and especially cyclists on Brooklyn Bridge. If I ever go back it will be with a baseball bat. And/or fire. All the fire.
Wherein we say we'll get some for after dinner…and then proceed to finish twelve between us right in the store front. Proceed to dinner.
Fuck you, Brooklyn Bridge.
Shopping and TS touristy stuff avec the newbie. Broadway at night. Flu taking full effect meaning I paid to take a very expensive series of mini-naps. Luckily at rush ticket rate. From what I can remember though, unless you're a huge Matthew Broderick fan or just like incredibly formulaic musicals, don't bother with It's Nice Work, If You Can Get It. Oh, and BFFE's boyfriend nearly flipped when he saw Kelly Ripa an aisle over. I don't think he even watches CMT…
Friends insisted we cancel original plans to go clubbing that night because apparently my ability to barely stand was concerning. I tried to fight them but apparently my ability to barely stand is also not the best for arguing my position.
What's that you say, we can custom order a hot cake cookie to surround brown butter and candied bacon ice-cream?
"Oh, hello, taste-gasm. Come live in my mouth."
DO: Ride the Steeplechase. Intense from the moment it starts, there is no build-up just GO.
DO NOT: Eat a Nathan's Famous hotdog. That **** is disgusting. I mean...the chili was nice. With everything New York does so well they have ZERO powers of hot dog. It's mind-boggling how this one specific thing is just god-awful. That and their parking.
BEWARE: Soaring Eagle. That one is actually just really physically painful. It gave everyone bruises when we just wanted thrills.
Special Mention: Cyclone is possibly the most comfortable roller coaster ever, that thing is so well cushioned. Almost…womb-y.
Went clubbing tonight. Worth it. Wanting to test my new NikeFuel band while dancing specifically, I wore it out. Since we didn't leave before midnight it'd be fairly accurate. Amused I met my goal for the day between 00:00 and 01:48. Also, Neno's pizza remains the best 5 AM reward. Killed it.
Just ow. Let me be your cautionary tale.
Somehow manage to wake up and pack at 0900 before going to meet parts of the American side of my family. Valiant efforts are (successfully I think) made to hide the fact I'm about to drop dead from flu/exhaustion while with them.
Buy more two more boxes of Trix minutes before leaving just to be sure I have enough.
That evening at Newark my lady business manages to once again set off security. This time highlighted on a monitor for all to see. Lovely. Apparently the way my denim shorts are designed to crinkle at the crux is incredibly threatening to your safety. The security woman was uncommonly nice though so that was kinda sweet.
Also, finally caved and bought one of those infernal "I [heart] NYC" t-shirts. The breaking point? Newark airport (like everywhere else in America) was blasting the AC into another ice-age and after two hours I was ready to wear anything. Well, except the one of those New Jersey hoodies. (These things sell? Who's wants to show off they'd been there?) Death before dishonour!
Unfortunately, while I don't actually mind the t-shirt terribly in design it also manages to be incredibly uncomfortable. Impressive for a t-shirt. Luckily my exhaustion, desperation and fever-haze combined to keep me from noticing at the time. Luckily.
Suitcase Upon Depature:
Pictured: Space. Also, little did I know the stilettos would be my shoes for *sprinting* from 57th through Times Square to 45th. In evening wear and leather jacket. I don't mind saying I'm a little proud of being able to Charlie's Angels it, after some lady apparently commented on how she wished she could run like that in heels. (As relayed to me later through one my friends who was picking up the rear.)
Suitcase Upon Return:
Pictured: ALL THE TRIX. Plus duty-free to the left.
UPDATE: Have demolished 3 boxes of Trix within first week of being back.