Sunday had it all. The terrifying lows, the dizzying highs, and the creamy middles. In no particular order (other than chronological):



At my suggestion, my cousin and I attempted to take out my grandmother for her birthday. Somewhere along the numerous coordinating phone calls, I got squeezed out of the plans. My grandmother suggested that they go without me!



Anyway, after many permutations, the final plans became a bbq at my cousin's house, which turned out to be a blast. Grilling simply is the greatest form of cooking. Everything tastes better outdoors. [this would be the dizzying high]



I came home pretty tired, moderately sweaty, and totally in the mood for some video games. It takes a lot to draw my attention away from Star Wars Battlefront II, but on a whim, I decided to get out of my comfortable recliner to see who IM'd me. [this is the creamy middle]



Color me shocked that the grey ghost, who can ignore an email like it has the plague, was actually proactively suggesting to hang out. So, i shut off the game in mid battle, and get ready to go out. A couple of shots and a quick game of wii tennis later, and we're off. And that's where things started to go downhill. [and now, the terrifying low]



As per the norm (when I'm in charge of directions), we had a bit of trouble actually getting to the bar. After a big loop around the downtown area (stupid "no turns" and "one ways"), we finally get to the bar.....which was closed. Plan B was the bar two doors down...which was also closed. Do people not drink on sundays? Religious zealots strike again.

Option three was that irish bar McDougals that I know I've walked to from school. However, it must have been in a parallel universe, b/c it was impossible to find, much less drive to, from where we were. After a couple of loops around (look kids, big ben), we gave up and decided to go to the market street bar (Plan D, for those keeping count).

Walking in Penn Station, Plan E started looking better than D. Plan E was that shady bar INSIDE penn station. You know the one...we've all looked in it walking by just to see what type of clientele frequents it. Lonely guys waiting for a train? Degenerates? Both?

Well, the guy I was with had a much different opinion of the bar. "It looks like a real party bar". What? Huh? That's one step away from calling it "The Place To Be" (tm Seinfeld). So what the heck, we give it a try.

A completely empty bar except for two guys in the back awaited us. But, they had a nice tv with the Yankee game on. After we got a run down of what's on tap (a nice selection btw), we order two. As our beers are handed to us, we're told "that will be 12 dollars". This bar, you see, was actually in the Newark section of Midtown NYC., apparently. In shock, I shakingly hand her my credit card and ask if we can start a tab. "sure, but it's a 20 dollar minimum."

Everything begins to slow down for me. I'm still reeling from paying 6 dollars for a beer, but also focused on the future rage that will ensue when i'm FORCED to order a second round.

When you are in a bar like McSorley's, and you realize there is no music on, it's a beautiful thing. When you are in an empty bar in the middle of a train station, and hanging your head in shame, music would be a welcomed addition. Of course, one should be careful of what one wishes for....when someone finally started playing music, it was that depressing country music that makes you want to shoot yourself.

And it was very loud.

Luckily, the person we were waiting for came early, so we asked for a check before I got my second beer. Even though we had spent 18 bucks (on three beers!), a comment was still made about the minimum for a tab. I honestly don't know the point of the minimum, or whether or not it was being waived, or anything, so I figured a 4 dollar tip would cover all the angles. If i was being forced to get up to 20, then it's still a 2 dollar tip. If not, then I obviously overtipped, but at least I was getting out of that bar w/o being sodomized or anything.

Completely annoyed by the evening, i realized on my way home that 1) i was hungry and 2) all of my options for takeout were most likely closed. So i reached deep into the back of my cabinet, where those shady boxes of meals reside. The "in case of emergency, add water and microwave" type of deals. With my expectations at an all time low, i was pleasantly surprised by how "slightly above mediocre" it was starting to smell.

I put my tray in front of the greatest chair of all time, and placed the dish on the tray. Two seconds after turning around, i heard a horrible crash and was hit with flying glass and rice. On my chair lay my entire dinner, seeping through the fabric and instantly leaving an unremovable stain.

There was a moment of pause, where the entire next hour was able to flash through my head. This is a deep secret that I haven't shared with many people, but I'm very lazy. On top of that, I really hate doing work that didn't need to be done 10 seconds ago. The idea of having to pick up shreds of glass and trying to minimize the damage to the chair was overwhelming. And all that time, a great wind carried over me, and I thought "six dollars a beer!".

AJ's scenes that night when I watched Sopranos were very identifiable.