October 13, 2010

An Italian, an Irishwoman and a Serb walk into a bar…

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Although little more than a glorified long weekend (barely), Fall Break is a wonderfully rephreshing mini-vacation that comes just in time to save us from prelim-induced psychosis and Ithaca disdain. Full of grand plans to relax, catch up on work, and get ahead on life, we all fall victim to the glorious voice of procrastination, doing little more than watch TV, eat, and sleep. For those of us who travel home, it’s also an excellent opportunity to catch up with wily characters from the past, get sufficiently soused, and see how nothing ever really changes from our high school glory days. I spent the vast majority of the weekend tucked away in the Catskill Mountains with my family, wining and dining back the years of my life that the library and Four Loko had unjustly stolen. However, with one night back in the Bestchester, I rounded up a crew of childhood hoodlums, finally united in our joint 21-year-old-ness, and hopped through the streets of New York city like a gang of juiced up rabbits craving our carrot fix. With my squad consisting of Andrew, the Italian, Jenny, the Irishwoman, and myself, the Serb, (who would have ever thought that lower Westchester was so culturally diverse?) the night would divulge into an evening of alcoholic life philosophy and hipster hysteria. First some background – Jenny Finger has been one of my greatest friends and general partner in sexiness for the majority of my life, living up to her heritage by drinking like a true Irishwoman. Freshly 21, she has been finally freed from society’s cage of underage sobriety. We continue…

After years of sketchy sake bombing and grimy dive bars, the novelty factor of drinking with my high school budz in New York City without fear of being underage is still quite high. Accordingly, Jenny made sure to grab life by the horns, drink to her liver’s content, and spew the greatest words of wisdom this side of Aristotle. (Ex. – “When you get 21, you have better judgments.” Err… debatable) The night began at The Blind Pig, a non-descript sports bar, but with a typhoon raging outside, it made for a fine libation location. Thanks to a series of miscommunications, Jenny and Andrew were soon sipping on gin, vodka, and ginger ale concoctions that rocked their world, while I enjoyed an interestingly nasty beer that Jenny accurately dubbed, “port-a-potty flavored.”

As we waited for the rain to pass and took in the Jets-Vikings game, Jenny proceeded to loosen up, Sam Adams inspiring her to magnificent heights of knowledge. “No wonder they’re naked. They’re blind!” she exclaimed in response to the bar’s name. “That kid’s from Britain. Don’t ask me how I know,” she screamed at an ambiguously-Euro guy across the floor. “Let’s get out of here, I want to see again,” she supplicated as the rain cleared up.  Busting out a secret handshake with the bouncer as she exited, Jenny led the way out into the night, bubbly, drunk, and ridiculously entertaining.

3 bars, an offensively angry Vikings fan, and a taxi ride later (not to mention $40 – the city is expensive yo. Mad dolla billz), we were at The Brass Monkey, a hipster haven full of plaid and irony as far as the eye can see. While Jenny forced me to sext my friend Tom on her behalf, we were attacked by a faux-hemian who drowned us with talk of his extensive research concerning depression and anxiety in mice. Just as he got to mice execution techniques, Jenny whispered, “I’m not following any of this, but I love it,” summing up the night as a whole. After some singing, dancing, vague talks of the future, and childhood reminiscing, my troop and I boarded the train back north, leaving the newly legal concrete jungle behind us.

The moral of this story is that I sincerely hope you all have a Jenny in your life. As the uncertainty of the future post-Cornell looms near, we can all count on our friends to show us that life’s about more than finding a job and selling our souls. As long as we have someone with whom we can get drunky and laugh at life, we’re all in good shape. No need to grow up too fast. Cheers.

The JennyVodkaGinGinger aleLemonLime

Fill a rocks glass with ice. Add ½ a glass of ginger ale, a ¼ glass of vodka. Accidentally top with gin. Salvage flavor with lemon and lime juice. Live your life.

Original Author: Milos Balac