My name's Sam, and I'm really into dream pop and freak folk singers with fucked up voices.
This was the summer of yes. Yes to everything. Yes even if it means getting no sleep and having to work in an hour. Yes to sex with a girl. Yes to anything and everything that presented itself. However, after last night, I’ve changed my summer of yes to “summer of marginally bad decisions based on how tired I am.” Hopefully I’ll never end up having a night of experiences like the one I had just twenty-four hours ago.
Shortly after a long, eight tequila shots work shift, I found myself at Bushwick’s greatest gay bar, Tandem (it’s not really gay, but everyone that works there is). Being fairly drunk already, I settled on a simple G & T minus some T and plus a lil’ St. Germain. Sucking this down at lightning speed, I convinced the bartender to do a tequila shot with me. Two, actually. Feeling good, no problem. Cigarette break with one of the currently-not-working bartenders. Suddenly, I find myself in his clutch, snogging up against the wall. It’s closing time, he dips and apologizes to me for forcing me into a make-out sesh when just before, we were drunkenly schmoozing over my boy troubles. I slink back inside where I somehow weasel in a shot of fernet and two whiskey shots, all while meeting six people at the bar. In desperate need of another cigarette, I follow close behind them outside in the hopes of bumming a smoke. Roxie, bless her heart, slides one out of her fanny pack. Her fanny pack with built-in speakers. BUILT-IN SPEAKERS. We smoke and make small talk and she extends the invitation to head back to her rooftop at her apt, drink some beers and smoke some joints. I want to say no. I don’t. I’m gonna have to walk home, is what I keep telling myself. But, turns out Roxie lives pretty close. In fact, she lives right across the street from Pearl’s Social, one of my favourite bars in the ‘wick. So our eccentric, dementedly drunk group ends up on this huuuuuuge rooftop, armed with three six packs and a fanny pack with built-in speakers. Wow. I should go out by myself more often. Summer of yes is really making things happen!
I’m talking to John, who’s this half Filipino, half Black guy who works the back of house at this new restaurant that just opened in my hood, Mama Joy. In fact, I recall chatting with Bob earlier, who happens to be one of the bartenders there. And then I’m lead to Nick, who’s the head chef. We chat about food and the menu for a while. He’s probably uninterested in my knowledge and understanding of food. I think at this point I’m sitting on Roxie’s lap. She’s playing something like George Michael. Or maybe it was Whitney Houston. I try to open a beer against the table. I hit my hand and it hurts a little. I take a hit from Roxie’s joint. More people show up and I meet them. Some girl named Ashley. We start talking. She tells me how attractive I am. I kiss her and run my fingers through her hair a bit. I run off to go pee and find myself out on the street. I have no idea where I am and proceed to wander around the streets of Bushwick for an hour before calling a car service. I think it’s almost 7:30.
When I woke up today at 5 pm, my computer screen was right by my face, still going. I couldn’t remember getting home. I checked my call log and saw my call to Bushwick Car Service. I also quite instantly noticed that my right hand was cut and swollen around the fifth knuckle. That’s definitely where I hit it on the table. I can’t clench my hand together without it hurting too much. I barely helped my busser out tonight at all because of the pain. I also couldn’t get any food down until about 1:30 AM because my stomach was so queasy. My manager and bartender were both drunk. It was the worst shift. I was sluggish and couldn’t carry out very many drinks. Still, I somehow managed to pull off almost 20% in tips and I didn’t pass out.
Summer of yes, you are no longer with me. It was great, but the last 3rd of this is reserved for moderate spending and a whole lotta soberishness-ish.
Best pizza ever at #BestPizza. Not to be matched by #DiFara’s in #brooklyn. (Taken with instagram)
Home sweet Bushwick. #Bushwick #Brooklyn #notEastWilliamsburg (Taken with instagram)
So, to let the world, err, my followers know, this is why I left. In a smaller cross-section. But still. Now, living in the wonderful New York, even though it snowed today and it’s not even November. But anyway. Here it is. This shit happens in Utah. All the time. It’s so common.