A Night at the Ballet

Last night, I went to the New York City Ballet and all I got was an invite to the inauguration.

Jen and I went to see Coppélia, which is the story of a magician/inventor who creates a life-size doll that fascinates the people of his small provencial town. It’s a comedy and it was excellent, and besides the fact that I got tossed around like a ragdoll for 20 straight minutes by all the rich people in the lobby at Lincoln Center, it was a really fun and unique experience and something I would love to do again soon.

It also explains why  I ended up in a bar in a turtleneck sweater.

Post Ballet, we were supposed to meet Ashley at for a birthday party at Galway Hooker but first met Chris and Yvonne at the Gingerman down the street to warm up to that kind of atmosphere (Yvonne had seen some unsolicited crotch last time she was there) so beers were in order. After the first round, we snagged a table right next to three guys who were closing a monster tab. Two of them were from Washington D.C., and after ten minutes of basketball trash talk we were ordering Lemon Drops and making plans to go to the inauguration.

(Side note: They guy next to me went to Kansas and could not admit that Syracuse beat Kansas in 2003 to win the National Championship. I tried to help him but his answers were always so pithy. “Well, it wasn’t that simple…” Yes, I told him, it was that simple. Either you won or you didn’t. We’re looking for a one word answer here. Yes or no. Three letters or two, I said, and you are looking for two. I wasn’t inviting him to a game of charades, I was basically trying to shed light on his severe denial. And he works for the government!)

The part of the night which I would consider to be the denoument, or turning point, if you will, was when Ash walked in from Galway Hooker next door and asked what was up with the “graveyard” of discarded 5 Hour Energy bottles on their table, and if their hearts were okay.

I spent the rest of the evening in verbal joust with the guy next to me whose name I don’t know. (Sarah 1; “Craig” 0) while the guy next to him kept telling us he was a drug dealer, when in reality he is a pharmacist. Clever! We all thought he was gay until he reached out across the table to Ash and yelled “Have dinner with me!”. Which was almost as shocking as when the guy sitting next to him, who we also thought was gay, repeatedly asked Yvonne to kiss him. The Jury will be out forever on this one.

After a fun few hours of banter it was time to hightail it out of there, so I walk out of the bar behind everyone else only to find Ash lying on the ground outside, screaming “I WAS PUSHED” in the shadow of the bouncer who was motioning to us to shut it down. And for the record, she was pushed. We weren’t that drunk. Just in a hurry. So my hypothesis after investigating the scene is that we just mowed her down.

I also may have flexed my bicep and kissed it at some point in the evening, but the only thing I’m really sure of is that it’s not a good night unless a male I don’t know describes me as “intense” to my face in a bar. So considering that we ended the night at both a Papaya Dog and McDonald’s, this was a great night. I was reflecting on just that when Brenda and Pete walked into the apartment at 3 am and found  me watching music videos and eating ravioli with my coat still on on the couch.

I never do this.

But it’s fun every once in a while. And I cannot wait to go back to the ballet.

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3 Responses to “A Night at the Ballet”

  1. R. Benjamin Says:

    Ballet’s have plots? and can be comedies? who knew.

  2. Former Rooms. Says:

    Who is this R. Benjamin. Let him now I will educate him in the ways of the ballet.

  3. Former Rooms. Says:

    And also – that I don’t know the difference between “know” and “now”. Shoot.

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