Piña coladas will be the death of me.
by M. Lizabeth Currain
So it’s my bff’s last night in NYC. You may be wondering why I am blogging at this crucial moment: We’ve had too many piña coladas and we decided to come back to my apartment so she can drunk pack. We also want to watch The Outsiders, another crucial movie of our youth.
We actually got an early start to our day. Well, relatively early. We took the NYC Water Taxi from the Ikea in Brooklyn to Pier 11 in Manhattan. It’s a fun and cheap way to see the Statue of Liberty. And maybe get meatballs if you have the time to pop into Ikea. The ferry costs $5 if you don’t buy anything at Ikea (free during the weekend) but…we got to ride the ferry for free! Because we are so beautiful and charming! The captain (maybe? He seemed like he was in charge of things) chatted us up and told us we don’t need to wear makeup. That it doesn’t matter. He said, “The next date you go on, don’t wear any makeup. You don’t need it. If the guy has a problem with it, ask for a spatula and smack him in the face with it and leave. Everyone will clap”. First off, I don’t even wear that much makeup. You’ve all seen the pictures from the past few days. That’s the amount of makeup I wear on the regular. I wouldn’t exactly say I cake it on. Second, I’ve slept with guys that have seen me without makeup. I know it’s not a big deal. They don’t care. But let me say this: I’m not wearing it for them. I’m wearing it for myself. I like the way I look with it and it makes me feel polished. You know that feminism card I had to turn in on Monday? Well, guess the f what? I just got it back!
After the water taxi ride, we got a hot dog from a cart. Cheap lunch people! Also, just a tip, all the sodium that is in the hot dog will save you from having to use the bathroom for at least five hours. We ended up walking around for quite a while. I took her to Canal Street–not one of my favorite places, but you know, you do these things for friends because you love them and know that they will enjoy it…even if you hate the very idea of being on Canal Street.
We ended up grabbing dinner with a good friend of mine…piña colada! Well, another good friend, but piña colada was there too. While we were nearing the end of our meal, there was a couple sitting diagonal from us. The man half of the couple was chowing down on some ribs and fries…all while his button down shirt was wide open and his hairless chest was displayed. I guess he thought he was chillin’ in his living room? I mean, who just goes out to dinner at a restaurant and gets comfortable enough to completely unbutton their shirt? He was really going to town on those ribs too. He might as well have been making love to them. Eventually the floor manager of the restaurant came over and told him that he couldn’t have his shirt open. The best part is, he didn’t even button up his shirt. He just closed it enough so that his chest and stomach wasn’t showing. Classy.
This is how I feel about guys who don’t button up their shirts in restaurants: