My wife and I had a rager New Years Eve. An epic rager.
We had been drinking pretty much ALL day. By the time the sitter got to the house we were like, 'Goodbye, goodnight, and good luck!'
I don't even remember how we got downtown. I think it was actually one of those peddle trolleys with a bunch of Tri-Delts. It was freezing, but when you're playing 'redlight take a shot', you don't really feel the cold.
Anyway, they drop us off at Excalibur because that's where we always start. But there's something wrong at the door. This big brick of a guy says we're NOT on the list. My wife goes zero to a hundred in a nanosecond and gets right in his face.
"We're VIP, dude! We're VEE VIP!" And then she starts throwing gang signs, at least I think they are. The guy keeps his cool and points to the end of the line, which is actually around the corner. I put my arm around my wife and tell her we'll get it straightened out when we get inside.
Anyway, we're there for like a minute when a van pulls up. It's a red Econoline from 1994 - so not quite something you see shuttling the well-heeled at the airport, but not quite something Tommy Bradford would drive. The side door slides open. The interior is white, but it's a white that's 'seen things'. A young woman is sitting by herself in one of the captain chairs. Starting at the floor and cradled between her legs is what appears to be a red four foot bong. She can barely reach the bowl, but she pulls it and inhales. She looks familiar to me as she leans back, but I can't quite place her. She's thin with wisps of blonde hair. Her eyes, which have a lot of liner, are kind of squinched. Bright red lipstick on her lips...
She holds her breath, like really holds it. And then all of sudden coughs out a big plume of smoke. It's either Pineapple Express or Purple Kush. With one hand on the bong, she holds up the other as she's coughing. I totally know who this is.
"Are you Tay-"
"SHUT IT, BITCH! Shut it right fucking now!"
My wife is putting 5 and 6 together as she stares at the woman.
"Ok, ok, ok," says the woman. "Just get in. Get in!"
We climb in and sit on the bench in back.
"Dan!"
The driver hits a button on the dash and the door slides shut.
My wife and I stare at the woman and look around the van. The floor is littered with Burger King bags. Lots and lots of Burger King bags. And unwrapped Twizzlers. It's like someone went to Costco, bought a tub of Twizzlers, and just dumped them out. And despite the Pineapple Kush wafting through the air, it smells a little like pee.
"Where the fuck is Thalia Hall?" asks the woman.
My wife and and I look at each other, shrug our shoulders.
"Seriously? You don't fucking know? You tourists? You from Indiana or something?"
"No," I say. "Chicago. But we don't know Thalia Hall."
She sizes us up.
"Y'all know I'm dating Andrew WK, right?"
I shake my head. My wife, however, as someone who sets her homepage to US Weekly, slowly nods her head. "Yeah," she says. "I think I read that."
"Well, I'm supposed to meet him there and these two don't know where the fuck that is."
The driver waves his hand. And the guy riding shotgun waves his hand. "Hi," he says. "I'm Paul."
"What the fuck do you do anyway, Paul?" asks the woman. "Why are you even here?"
"I'm your guard, ma'am."
"Well, what if these two are trying to kidnap me?"
"You're actually kidnapping them, ma'am."
The woman lets this sink in for a moment and a smile crawls across her mouth.
"Ha! You're right. Y'all want beer or some shit?"
My wife is kind of in shock that this is happening. I'm actually pretty good with it.
"What do you got?" I ask.
"Best goddamn beer there is... Fuckin' Hamm's!"
For the next three hours my wife and I drive around Chicago in a van with Taylor Swift pulling bongs and slamming Hamm's. We are literally partying hard while trying to hook up with Andrew WK.
(No, I don't know why no one didn't just google Thalia Hall on their phone.)
Some of my best New Years moments ever have taken place in cars - looking at you David, Ab, Bill, Ed, and Laura. Anyway, we're on LSD (Lake Shore Drive) heading back downtown (we were EVERYWHERE) when we see the fireworks at Navy Pier. They're beautiful! It's like Fourth of July. Only much much colder.
My wife and Taylor are pretty much BFFs now. They're laughing and singing. But I'm beat. I didn't sleep well the night before and it's catching up with me.
The van pulls into the Hotel Raphael. Andrew WK is waiting there. He's wearing a light blue cardigan, khakis, and light blue flip flops. He's under the heat lamps so I guess he's not too cold.
"TayTay," he says as Taylor stumbles out of the van. "I was so worried about you." They hug and Taylor points to us.
"This are my new friends."
We give him a small smile and wave.
"Hi," he says as he shakes our hands with a firm grip. "I'm Andy. So nice to meet you."
"Uh, I like your advice column," I say.
"Oh, that's so sweet. Thanks. Would you like to come up to our room and have some water or something."
My wife is totally up for it, but I pull her back.
"We have to get up early. We have kids, so..."
"Totally understand. I have nieces and nephews. I get it."
Taylor points to the van.
"These guys will take you wherever you want to go." Dan and Paul wave from inside the van. Taylor turns back to us with the sweetest kindest smile. "Thanks for hanging out you guys." And she puts her hands to her chest and makes a heart shape. I didn't think I was that kind of guy, but I totally did the heart shape thing back.
And that was our night. Maybe not a full on epic rager, but it was pretty cool.
Full disclosure: I don't really know any Taylor Swift songs other than that one about shaking.
Fuller disclosure: I probably should have asked if WK is a family name.
Fullest disclosure: My wife does not know any gang signs.
No comments:
Post a Comment