Friday, August 19, 2011

Hola from NYC!

I am currently wasting away from hunger in my castmate's parents' basement with 4 other members of "Romeo and Juliet: Choose Your Own Ending." Our assistant director and stage manager are currently at the grocery store replenishing our dwindling food supply, and I'm hanging out with these hungover Hannahs. (By all rights, I should be hungover as well... but I hydrate, so I is not). 

My last trip up to NYC (last weekend), I left feeling certain that DC was the place for me. Perfect blend of Southernish hospitality and Northern politics. Great theater scene. Busy as a city should be, but not crazy. This weekend, I am beginning to waiver. Although I'm pretty sure it won't happen, last night I started to entertain the idea of living here. I immediately wrote it off because it's not part of my life plan, but then it struck me that I always have a life plan. Maybe I don't necessarily need one. The thought that instead of starting up my dog walking business in DC and pursuing a (probably) more successful theater career there and living in the DC metro are forever, I could move to New York and do god knows what, is kind of exhilarating. Probably still something I won't do, but I think it's good for me to not meticulously plan every detail of my life so far in advance.

The main thing I'm all about in this city is how much character it has. I'm used to DC, where everything is very polished and classy. So far, I've gotten some of the best falafel I've ever had from hole-in-the-wall joints for $2. Last night we went to a 157 year old Irish alehouse. It had old wooden floors covered in sawdust (to absorb spills, presumably). They only have 2 choices - light and dark ale. $5 gets you 2 8oz mugs, hand delivered by the owner of the place - an old Irish chap. So cool! Then we went to a tiny Bulgarian club with a live band and swings in front of the bar instead of stools. In the basement is The Ice Box. You don furs and Russian caps, go in the freezing cold cubicle of sorts filled with bottles of vodka, and have 2 minutes to drink as much of it as you can. I did not partake in this because I a) hate shots and b) have the alcohol tolerance of a small child. But 3 of my friends did and I enjoyed hauling their drunk asses around for the rest of the night (mind you, I and my 2 other non-ice-box-participating friends were pretty drunk as well). Then we went to another hole-in-the-wall club. Coming from big giant DC clubs and bars, I have to say these tiny ones are the way to go. You can only fit about 40 people in the whole joint, so it feels like a party, and by the end, you have a bunch of friends! 

All in all, it was an excellent night. I've spent the morning rereading Sweet Tater's trip to NYC a couple months ago, and now all I want to do is go out and eat as much food as possible. Unfortunately, I'm trapped in a Long Island basement, and may not make it into the city til tomorrow. So I'ma go upstairs and see if those gals are back from grocery shopping. Maybe I can munch on a bagel and pretend it's this:

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