Little-known fact: architects are drunken crazy party animals! Well, ok, I think maybe people pretending to be architects for free drinks are drunken crazy party animals, but man, those architects can dance.
Last night, Sarah D. invited Tania and myself to join her, her roommate Pam, and her fellow architect-types at some, um, architect function? I’m not really sure what the point of it was, though I do remember that the party was at some kind of swanky fabric place in Chelsea. Look, the important thing is: there was an open bar. Also, the invitation indicated that there was dancing “from 7:30 to ?” See? Architects are crazy. They will party until ? !!!! Which turned out to be like 10 or 11 pm, but still. Clearly they were thinking, dawn perhaps?
In any case, Tania and I did a very poor job of pretending to be architects – I mean basically we muttered things about blueprints to one another while waiting for Sarah, gave up on talking about anything related once we were in, and by the end of the night I was revealing my true identity: insurance claims woman.
The place was packed at first and it was really hard to get a drink. One particularly snobby architect-man was heard saying, “jesus, let’s just go get a drink at a bar. This is NOT my scene.” Um, hello! Free drinks = you wait a bit for them, but by the end of the night, feel like some kind of champion who has pulled one over on “the man” by getting shitfaced for free. Duh. However, a few hours after we got there, the party started to thin out (read: it was totally easy to get 2 glasses of wine and begin double-fisting within about 8.5 seconds of one’s approach to the bar). This is also when I looked over towards the dj (ridiculous) and exclaimed, “oh my god you guys – people are actually dancing.”
I was slightly horrified by this – I really don’t believe in dancing at work or networking type events – but I soon noticed that most people in our little group had begun dancing in a rather self-conscious and sarcastic manner. Since I had been double-fisting for a couple rounds by then, I was easily led to the “dance floor,” where my cohorts and I alternated between laughing at people in suits making asses of themselves, and making complete asses of OURselves. By the time the dj stopped playing “In the Club” and salsa music (which pretty much sums up his selection), we had made some new friends, if that is the right word for people you hang out with for a night with no intention of ever contacting again come daybreak. Sarah and Tania claimed fatigue and left, but Pam and I were in it for the long haul, and followed our new “friends” down the road to another bar. Which is were things become hazy. Generally, there was a lot of smoking, a bad decision to sing some karaoke (me: Bohemian Rhapsody with a boy I’d met 2 minutes earlier), I switched to water to avoid the bathroom floor, and some guy we were vaguely connected to was arrested for drunkenly berating the bouncer. Also, I misplaced my phone at some point, which put a damper on the night – but Pam saved my life by calling me at work this morning to inform me that she had somehow wound up with it. Yay Pam!
I stopped off at Tempest Bar on my way home to discover that my favorite English bartender, Martin, is back! He had left us to join the cast of the touring Spamalot, which sadly was cancelled. It is always fun to be reunited with a good bartender, though.
Tonight is Pam and Sarah’s crazy Cowboys and Indians party. Hopefully I will feel less nauseas, more conscious, and ready to fall off the wagon again by then.