March 2010: Diary of a Disaster

Allegedly, there is a parade in Hoboken on the first Saturday of March. For St. Patty's Day. I didn't see it. The actual parade worth watching is the shitshow of people who trek from Manhattan to New Jersey via the Path train at 8am. By the time I got on the Path (around 9am), I had consumed two delish cocktails thanks to a Starbucks cup full of ice and a flask in my purse. Class baby. ALL class. Anyway, my friend Broken slams a Coors Light while waiting for the train and everyone is giggling about how shitty we are about to get. There was a buzz in the air - like Christmas morning for a bunch of drunks in green American Apparel t-shirts.

 

The funny thing about parade day is that only the suckers go to bars - all of the real parties are in houses. It's so funny how when mass groups of people get together for holiday drinking, everyone regresses back to college. Beer pong, drunk makeouts with strangers - I love it. So we hop around to a few parties and this is when things get crazy....

I realize that I am a master at flip cup, start yelling about the Catalina Wine Mixer, and weirdly have a bottle of Stoli in my purse. Dave offends the owner of the apartment, starts wearing a Spartan hat, and is drinking Jager out of a wine glass. Broken is covered in green dye and is on a hunt to make out with any girl over 20 and not married. Jaclene and Alexandra start drinking. Aggressively. And call out anyone not wanting to play flip cup with us. I love my friends.

But, like alcoholic locusts, we move on. Across the street to the next party. This is where things get a little foggy. I was hungry and Dave decides the only way to fix this is by going to the W. Yeah, we're nighttime drunk at 11am - we do NOT need to be around civilized people. But I go because the W is delicious. Halfway though lunch, our friends come to find us but they won't allow them in. Apparently THEY are too drunk. We leave, but not as soon as I'd like so I get mad. Shit talking mad. But then I lose everyone I came with somehow. Then I drop my already bruised BlackBerry, so it gets pissed and stops working. Finally, I find the Paolucci's (I felt like Magellan) and they feed me Jell-o shots while they drunk talk about the Yankees. 

Fast forward to 4 hours later. We find the rest of our friends but now people are DRUNK. I have a dull ache from too many sugary concoctions and not enough food. An attempt at sushi fails miserably.  Alexandra and Jax are headed back up to Westchester for a party (yikes) in a cheese bus, Broken has met up with his work friends, and Dave is being hateful. So I head back into the city, angry and alone.

The moral of the story kids....Hoboken is an evil place. The St. Patty's parade leads to lost wallets, stolen BluBlockers (!), a relationship on the rocks, a green tongue, and a wallet full of ATM receipts. Don't say I didn't warn you.