Y’all, 6AM flights are the worst. 4:15AM wake up call, 4:40AM cab, 6AM flight delayed just enough to miss the morning staff meeting at the office– OK, I could have made the tail end of it, but Starbucks was obviously more important. My sole goal for Monday was keeping my eyes open, my sole goal for Tuesday doing everything I should have done Monday and now that it is Wednesday, I will tell you about my weekend.
My friends have all moved out of the neighborhoods that we once lived and stomped in, so the majority of my quality time with Barrington after he picked me up at the airport was him trying to give me directions. Most of which I promptly forgot the second he stopped talking. Louisa and I met up after she got off work around 11, firmly strapped on our drinking shoes, hit the town and bonded like mother fuckers.
At 2AM I was incredibly proud of myself that I was still awake. At 3AM, I started patting myself on the back every half hour for not being a complete and total loser. At 4AM, I insisted we go back to her place to “open her birthday presents”– in actuality, I feared I would hit my wall and desperately need to be horizontal and in my PJs within a matter of minutes. By 5AM, we had opened our second beer at home. At 6AM Central Standard Time I had been awake for 24 hours and was so proud of myself for digging deep and being a cool kid. And then passed out.
We woke up around noon, ate 100 tacos and then went shopping. Naps on the couch followed shopping in preparation for another night on the town . At 9PM– we were still on the couch in our sweats, ordering pizza and watching Hook. Shit, Lou, maybe we are getting old.
Saturday we made the best quiche of all time– brussels sprouts, bacon and an entire block of cheese, with many many bloody marys on the side. I walked over to hang out with Barrington around 4PM, knocked on the door, announced I was drunk, insisted on talking about how great my butt looked in my new jeans and then fell asleep on the couch.
Later that night while preparing for our fancy birthday dinner, Louisa and I danced to Spice Girls like nobody’s business. I can only assume this moderately annoyed her boyfriend. Nate– I must say, you are a scholar and a gentleman (and have a very high tolerance for shenanigans) for putting up with the two of us for 4 days. You are for sure a keeper.
I ate some Thai food with my cousins, ate some burgers with Barrington and then attempted to locate all of my belongings that at this point spanned the length of Lou and Nate’s apartment. See, mom? I don’t just do that at your house. I leave my shit in everyone’s dining room. Including my own.
All and all, a wonderful weekend in Chicago, but save for our 6AM morning, one of the tamest we’ve had. Not once was I so hungover I wanted to die and I made it back to DC with all my belongings and without any new tattoos. I’d call the weekend a success.