Technically the fete didn't take place during the summer. Doreen's birthday is October 1st, but I was still decked out in my usual miniskirt and awkwardly revealing top. I did have the decency to wear tights at least. The opaque kind in fact. I had begun to abandon the notion that Party Sleep Party was only limited to the summer months. Without a real job, career, or any mouths to feed, what was there to stop me from transplanting my hedonistic tendencies from the warm summer months to the cool fall. When it starts to get cold outside there's nothing that I crave more than a warm chunky, knit sweater and a shot of Jack Daniels. So with my newfangled understanding of the seasons, I headed to Doreen's celebration at this bar called Anchor. Strangely enough I had never been there and neither had any of my friends. The reviews on Yelp described it as a B and T crowd with pretentious yuppies thrown in the mix. It's because of scenes like this that I don't party above 14th street. However Anchor is located in the west village and we thought it must have some sort of redeeming quality.
I headed to the bar with my bestie Julianne and Kayla. As we rode in the cab, still tingling from our pregame session, we berated the cab driver who tried to play us. One thing anyone should know about me and my friends: we don't take shit. If you're my friend, you must have thick skin and most likely be a bitch (this goes for the men as well). Now there are different types of bitches. There are those who are outwardly messed up and will say slick shit all the time. And then there are others who seem to be angels but their motives are downright mean girl-like. Now I don't mean that my friends are bad people. They are some of the most loving and generous people I know and I love them all dearly. We just don't censor ourselves and we don't believe in being fake. That is what defines you as a bitch in this world; having the cojones to actually say what you mean.
When we finally arrived to the bar, we headed towards the back to see our belle of the ball, Dee, dressed to the nines. Now one thing you should know about Doreen is that she is the cutest thing ever. She is this tiny girl with a fashion sense to rival Anna Della Russo. She can wear anything and look amazing, but when she decides to put in that extra fifteen minutes of prep, she's a fucking stunner. With that being said, when I arrived, instead of giving Dee props on her long sleeved, no back, black studded mini dress and banging heels, I'm staring at Dave, her boyfriend. Well technically Dave and Jason, another member of the crew. Now I'm used to seeing Dave in ripped jeans and flannel shirts. I've never thought Dave looked bad, he just had this laid back, "I don't give a fuck" attitude that I've always liked. Jason is always styling though. Once my best friend Bridget called me just to tell me she peeped Jase outside an HSBC looking like a Burberry ad in a trench coat and mean looking shades. It was so serious that she stopped banking to let me know. Haha. But tonight the boys went over and beyond. They were dressed as fucking sex bombs. Now don't get it twisted, I'm not trying to fuck my homies; but that night I would have considered it. I mean they were beautiful. Fucking beautiful. I couldn't get over it. I felt like a dipshit standing next to them. Apparently there was a bbm sent through the BDN network ( an inside group with initials I won't disclose here) and it basically summed up to "Suit Up". They rolled in looking like ethnic James Bonds with skinny ties.
Once I got over my awe and picked my jaw off the slimy dance floor, I proceed to get a drink and regain some semblance of being cool. Now the crowd that night was basically what Yelp had described. I saw pink button downs and polos with the collars up. I saw a great number of white man's overbites and boat shoes. But funny enough, what could have been a horrible night, was probably the best party of my extended summer. It was one of those nights when regardless of what went wrong, I was still having a good time. Now this probably partially due to the amount of vodka cranberries and tequila shots I consumed, but I think something more was at work.
When you have such a large group of friends, it's very rare to have a night out where drama does not occur. There's always someone who's upset and bringing the vibe down. I've probably been that person on many occasions, but at least I have the courtesy of leaving the bar instead of bringing everyone down with me. That night every single one of my friends, a group of twenty or more, were floating on the same wavelength. We just danced the night away. Nothing bothered me. Nothing bothered us. Not even the girl I had to bitch out when she cut in front of me on the line for the bathroom. The more fucked up thing is that I let Julianne cut in after I made that slut move. I told you I was a bitch.
We danced from midnight till four in the morning and proceeded to tipsy drive home in Akasha's whip. I think I even got into an argument with my mom when I got home. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, she was making breakfast and my dad was ironing pants, when I staggered home in my stilettos, reeking of Patron at five am. I was so furious that my attempt to sneak into my house was foiled by both my parents, that I briskly passed her while she asked " Is this the time you usually come home?" , grabbed my car keys and ran out the house while she yelled "And you're going to drive!". I vented to Ashley who live a couple blocks away and I was giving her a ride home. I was just so upset that they had been awake at 5am. What responsible adult is awake at 5 am on a Saturday? I later found out that they we're on their way to Washington, DC to march in a rally against health care cutbacks. My parents, the do-gooders, birthed an alcoholic with a severe disconnect with reality.Go Figure.
Regardless of my mother's disapproval and my father's acknowledgment that my partying ways come from my mother's side (I get it from them both), I look back on that night with a smile, one of those cheesy kinds that appear frequently in romantic comedies. I think what made that night so special was not only the babes and blokes that I spent it with, but the fact that the summer didn't have to end. Party Sleep Party became the anthem of my summer, but I always knew that come autumn, I would have to start being an adult. I searched for an internship, obtained a real schedule at my job and even got a gym membership. I was so afraid that becoming an adult meant that I had to stop being a kid. Doreen's birthday changed that. Now I am a kid that isn't afraid of growing up. Fuck that Peter Pan syndrome. I can still wear my tights with a business suit.