NYC / DAY TWO (Part II)

(How sad is it that I had to separate the posts for Day Two?! HA!)

After I stuffed myself with cupcakes, I went out to look for Gina. She had ran into a bar to meet Laya, who was seated with a beer. Of course, I found them, and joined in. Carrie and Aydee stayed behind at Buttercup to wait for our other friend who was in town, Donn. So there we were sitting at P. D. O'Hurley's (174 W 72nd St., b/t Amsterdam & Columbus), an Irish pub with a real Irish bar tendress!

After a while, Donn finally arrived at Buttercup, and the three of them walked over to O'Hurley's. We all got re-aquainted, and another round of drinks came. Aydee and Donn decided to swoop-in next door at Grey's Papaya (2090 Broadway, b/w W 71st/Amsterdam & W 72nd) since Ay had never been. Next thing you know, we were on to round 3 at the bar. Knowing that we had a list of things to do still, I closed out the tab, and then we were off. Laya wanted to take us to a special "cookie" place that had been featured on The Food Network. We crossed Broadway, and headed towards W 74th. She took us to a tiny doorway to Levain Bakery (167 W 74th, UWS b/t Amsterdam & Columbus), a little shop that serves specialty cookies.

The shop's sign above the stairway

Going down the stairs into the tiny shop

The most amazing cookies EVER!

After the quick cookie-run, we walked toward Midtown. But first, Gina, Laya and I made a quick stop back at O'Hurley's to use the bathroom... AND to grab a shot. We drunk-walked towards Midtown, and I stopped in at a shoe store which Laya spoke highly of. Not even 5 minutes later, I walked out of the store with a new pair of boots, to which the gang applauded and called me "sucka!" Whatever. We finally reach a train station, and hopped on the next one headed to 42nd St.

We ascended from the station below onto the wrecklessly busy streets of Time Square. The alcohol plus the growing crowds, and the deafening sounds of car horns and chatter were making me ill as we walked toward Donn's hotel (Hilton Garden Inn). We stopped in at his hotel lobby to use the bathroom, then we were on foot again. We walked a few streets over to a place called Say Cheese (649 9th Ave., Midtown), which Ay also wanted to try. Half of the gang sat down for a bite, while the other half of us walked into Mercury Bar (659 9th Ave., Midtown) next door.

Gina and I sat down and each ordered beers. Carrie went to find a peanut vendor. The other three (Ay, Donn and Laya) sat down for grilled cheeses next door. When Carrie came into the bar, she sat down and instantaneously I had a feeling that she would make some kind of connection with our bar-tender, Jonathan. And sho' nuff, next thing you know they're chattin' it up while me and Gina keep making faces at each other as this was all happening. When Jonathan left a drink in front of Carrie, me and Gina stopped and listened in on their conversation:

CARRIE: What is this?

JONATHAN: What's your name?

CARRIE: Carrie.

JONATHAN: It's called the "Carrie," then.

BARF. GAG. BLEH.

By the time the rest of the gang arrived at the bar, Carrie had downed her drink, and Gina and I were on round 3, with a set of shots being poured out. We brought the rest of the gang up-to-speed with the Carrie/Jonathan banter, and somehow someone had blurted out that it was Carrie's birthday. It might've been Ay or Laya.

AY or LAYA: It's Carrie's birthday tonight! Give her a shot of tequila!

JONATHAN: (to Carrie) Oh, it's your birthday? I'll give you more than a shot of tequila... tonight.

Apparently, we all heard that last line, EXCEPT FOR CARRIE (of course). So in our drunken state-of-mind, we each reiterated the importance of coming back to Mercury Bar that night: so Carrie could get her swerve-on, and we could get our drink-on. There's something for everyone in NYC. Something for everyone!

We finally left, but we stopped to take a picture with a pig statue outside a place called Rudy's Bar & Grill (627 9th Ave., Midtown). Random, I know.

Rudy's

Gina and I with the pig statue outside Rudy's

We finally hopped on a train back to downtown, and got to the hotel to get ready for Carrie's birthday celebration. While Gina helped Carrie finish getting ready, Ay, Laya and I headed down to the hotel bar for a round of drinks. (Oh yes.) I closed the tab once G and Carrie made it down, and then we were back on a train headed toward NoLita. The restaurant we originally planned to go to could not sit our large party (which had grown as the night progressed). So thinking quick on our feet, we ended up at a spot right across the way: La Cave des Fondus (20 Prince St., NoLita b/t Mott & Elizabeth Streets). The restaurant is located underneath another restaurant/bar, so we had to descend a stony staircase lined with tea lights. It was almost as if we were going down some dank lair where a coven of vampires awaited us (I'm not obsessed with vampires; really I'm not). At the other side of a Medieval-style iron door was a quaint dining area with a bar, furnished in the style of an old French countryside inn: stone walls and floors accented with wooden pillars, tables and chairs. The strong scent of cheese filled the air, and the chatter of those already dining meshed along with the background music. As we waited for our table, we congregated by the bar, drank more, and caught-up with old friends from college (my old college roommate Rithy, and my FCA "ading" Donna to name a couple). Once we were seated, the wait staff went right to work. We ate like the French, which basically means that we ate minimally. And at $31 a pop, it was no joke that we were still unabashedly hungry. But we were out in the name of fun, so it didn't bother us.

After dinner, we skipped the original spot where we were supposed to grab drinks. Instead, we hopped on a train back to Midtown, and stopped in at The Cellar Bar @ The Bryant Park Hotel (40 W 40th St., Bryant Park). Laya's boyfriend, Bernard, got us in through a friend that was working at the lounge. Little did we know that the bar would turn into one of the city's hot spots at night. While the space was swank, it was crowded like no joke; seriously ANNOYINGLY so. But still, we did a round of drinks there before we decided that we should head out. We eventually found our way back to Mercury Bar (on foot), where we met up with another friend, Gwen, who had moved to the city. There, the party continued... the drinks flowed... and Jonathan did his part: he hooked us up with a couple of drinks, gave Carrie some "special" drinks, and even took a couple of pictures with her (pictures that I do NOT have). Gina and I won the award of being "the drunkest ever" that night, while Carrie slid on by.

Not realizing that we were losing an hour, and because NYC is super cool and did NOT call out "last call," we finally stumbled out around 4AM. We went to some random diner next door, which wasn't all that. Then we finally parted ways with our friend, Rithy, as he headed home to New Harlem, and we caught a cab back to the hotel.
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***Photo of La Cave des Fondus from thrillist.com
***Photo of The Cellar Bar from worldsbestbars.com

NYC / DAY ONE

In my last post, I gave you a quick and dirty (sort of) glimpse of what went down in NYC. Unfortunately, I didn't have my USB chord with me because I left it in L.A. like an idiot. The thing is, now that I'm back, I've realized that I hadn't taken as many pictures as I had hoped. But that's just all a part of Wen's true style. Once inebriation in in full effect, pictures are more than likely not to come to fruition. Unless, of course, someone else is taking them.

Anyway.

In an effort to make-do with what I have, I shall now re-cap my NYC trip with what few pictures I do have to share. Hopefully, you'll find these stories (and photos) somewhat enjoyable. PS: some of the pictures aren't that great because I tend to refuse to play around with the camera's settings just to take a perfect picture. Blah-blah, I know. Whatever.

Shall we?!

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Friday, March 6, 2009. At around 11am-ish my friend, Aydee, and I descended from our 36th-floor hotel room down to the hotel lobby to make our way to the South Street Seaport (Pier 17, near Downtown). The Seaport was merely a 10-minute walk from the hotel. Thankfully, the weather was decent, so we weren't in danger of freezing our bums off. Once we got there, we went through a few shops, and I was able to pick-up a couple of little things to bring home to Lexi (you gotta love random gift shops that sell Hello Kitty products).

When we finally got hungry, we started to walk-up to different restaurants to check out what was being served. Since it was a Friday --a Lenten Friday-- we had our restrictions: no meat. For me, the restrictions went a bit deeper since I also gave up fried food. So that narrowed our choices down to almost nothing. We were tempted by a random deli-style buffet spot, but the instant sight of the gloriously-fried orange chicken made us hiss like vampires that just came across blood. (OK, that means vegetarian vampires like Edward Cullen. Yes, I went there.) So after practically running out of that joint, we found ourselves outside of The Blarney Stone (121 Fulton St., Downtown) --a no-nonsense Irish pub that was a perfect mix of dank, dark, dingy, yet full of Northeastern Irish American charm.

Ironically, they didn't have much to offer for the practicing Catholic in terms of food. And even more ironic was the Latino "cook" behind the counter taking everyone's orders. After looking at what was available, I came to the conclusion that all I could really have was a plate of rice and beans. In an instant, the friendly cook was shoveling copious amounts of rice onto a plate, and then spattered an equal amount of red beans (my choice) alongside it. That was lunch for about $3. Aydee decided to go for a pre-mixed house salad for about the same price. It was "roughage" that she was looking for at this point. So we took our trays and walked over to an empty table for two. The table's legs were obviously un-even, and the slightest move caused a considerable amount of shaking; enough so that our plates could have easily slid off. But we didn't care. We were starving, and we were elated because of the Blarney's $5 Yeager Bombs! Yes, it was the weirdest "Irish pub" lunch of all time: house salad, rice & beans, and Yeager Bombs... two rounds of them.

An Irish Pub Lunch: Rice & Beans, and a House Salad

Yeager Bombs

Once lunch was over, we bid farewell to the Blarney, and laughed our way over to the Brooklyn Bridge. We somehow managed to walk to the first side-span of the bridge up till the first pylon. It took us over the banks of the East River. After circling the first pylon/tower, we headed back to the hotel to drop off the shopping bags.

We were prepping ourselves to make Happy Hour at The Skinny Bar & Lounge (174 Orchard St., LES) in the Lower East Side. HH at this spot starts at 5PM, and lasts till 9PM; a true God-send. We hopped in a cab, and made acquaintances with the driver, Ben, who had been driving a cab in the city for only about six months. An immigrant from the islands, he asked us about our nationality. When he heard us say "Filipino," he was all up on the political history of somewhat recent times: the fall of Marcos, the rise of Aquino, the People Power Revolution, etc. The scene was literally ripped off an episode of Taxi Cab Confessionals.

We weren't sure of the exact spot of the place, so Ben dropped us off at Canal and Orchard, and we walked north on Orchard toward Stanton. Orchard is a quiet, business-lined street. I was actually quite smitten as I heard a shop-owner call out to a patron at a rival shop across the way, "I've got the same items... but better and less expensive!" It was a fine NYC moment... for me, at least. When we crossed Delancey, I saw The Skinny ahead, where HH heaven awaited us.

We entered the empty space, music blaring in the background. A lone bar-tender, who we later found out was named Hillary, was prepping the bar for the night. It was already 5:30PM; a half-hour into the night's HH. We went right to work, and ordered the first round.

The night passed on, and we were pacing ourselves nicely. Drink after drink, shot after shot. Then just before 9PM, we closed out our tab at a beautiful $40-something, which was great considering we had been drinking non-stop since about 5:30PM. We tipped Hillary nicely because she gave us Washington Apple Shots (w/Maker's) on the house. And because of that nice tip, she gave Aydee and I another on-the-house shot: Birthday Cake Shots. It made my night, but ruined Aydee's. She headed to the bathroom, and after about 15 to 20 minutes of being in there, I went to check-in on her. NOT a good sight (this is why you eat rice & beans before drinking, and NOT a salad). I left her for another 10 to 15 minutes before grabbing the rest of our stuff, and going back into the bathroom to make the necessary assist. The bar had filled-up by this time, and I was trying to avoid any awkwardness with the line at the bathroom (PS: the locks on the bathroom doors did NOT work...).

You can use your imagination to deduce what took place then. I had to pseudo-sober myself to help Aydee out of the bar, and back into the streets. Luckily, we found a cab. I didn't get this driver's name, and I was urging him to hurry us back to the hotel while my friend gagged and dry-heaved (thank GOD she only dry-heaved!) all the way back. I brought Drunky McPhee up to the hotel room, and wished for something good to happen. After realizing that she was going to be OK (in other words, after she was passed-out), I headed back out, still pseudo-sober, and started towards the ATM. But my cell phone stopped me. I answered, and I was happy to hear a familiar voice on the opposite end.

CARRIE: Wen, we're coming up towards the hotel right now.

WEN: (looking around franctically) Where? Where are you?

Once I caught sight of Carrie, with Gina in tow right behind her, I let out a sigh of relief. As they crossed the street to where I was standing, another overly-drunk guy was stumbling all over the place just a few feet from me; he almost ran face-on into a street sign. This sent the three of us into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

WEN: I'm so glad to see you guys! I felt so alone just now!

GINA: Oh my gosh, we missed the party. You're drunk!

WEN: And Aydee is passed-out!

ALL: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!

And SCENE.

We went upstairs to drop off their bags, and to check up on our drunk friend. She had party-fouled and threw-up a little on the hotel's comforter (Sorry, Millenium Hilton!), so we stripped the bed, got her some water, and strategically placed her lying on the bed with her head propped to the edge. A trash can was placed right underneath her head. When we knew she was OK, we went back out into the night, and took a cab to the East Village to meet up with our friend, Laya.

We were hungry, and and I was still drunk --although being in pseudo-sober mode I had made myself believe that I was actually sober. There was still 30 minutes before the clock struck midnight, so we quickly found a spot: Simone Martini Bar (134 First Ave. @ St. Mark's Place, East Village). The place was packed, but we were seated after a few minutes. The decor was a mixture of cheesy Russian "Amber Room"-like sculpted ceilings with Asiany lanterns and Buddha heads scattered all over the place. It was kitschy, yet sceney. The place reminded me of what would happen if West Hollywood's Bar Lubitsch had spawned off-spring with Hollywood's Geisha House, but less polished. Still, the air of the place was chill, loud, yet comfy. It felt like "home."

Because it was technically still Friday, we ended up ordering Lent-friendly. Carrie and I both got tuna salad sandwiches, and Gina ordered the Quiche Florentine. Oh, and we ordered a round of drinks. Halfway through that drink, I realized that I was still drunk; tanked almost. But as the night plowed on, we ordered yet another round, which was good for Gina and Carrie, but not-so-good for me. But I held on like a champ, and didn't allow myself to fall victim to the spirits of the bottle. Graceful drunkenness is something that I do best (most of the time).

When Laya could sense that Carrie and Gina were growing more and more tired by the minute, and after my friends called me out for slurring (and my eyes rollin' back to my head), it was obvious: we were done. Laya walked us towards the nearest train station, but only after we stopped at Ray's Pizza (2 St. Mark's Place, East Village) to pick-up some pastries: bread pudding, cheesecake slice, and a brioche bun. It would've been nice to order pizza, but we obviously weren't thinking right.

At the station, we hugged Laya "good-night," then hopped on the train back downtown. Within the hour, we were safe at the hotel, and were soon drifting asleep to the sounds of Aydee's worship session with the porcelain god.
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***Photo of Simone shop front by Tracey Donvito; from Wikipages
***Photo of Simone interior by Lauren Klain Carton; from "New York Nightlife"