Our big Harvard-Yale game was this weekend, which is always just one huge shitshow full of free food and booze… poverexia heart. A few weeks leading up to this event I got super excited coordinating a party train with some friends, until this past week when I actually got around to looking at tickets and realized the Acela is a roundtrip ridiculous expense of $300, or like 50 Tasty King lunch specials. Fuck that shit. Luckily B felt the same way, and with his wonderful corporate discount the answer became very clear that we should turn this into our own road trip and forgo the all-you-can-eat hot dogs and Kati rolls on the 3-hour NYC-BOS Acela ride for the all-you-can-drink Svedka and cranberry juice in the B-mobile.
So off we were to Beantown, my first time back since the last HY at Harvard 2 years ago. Four hours in a car really fly by when you’re chugging vodka in the back seat and jamming to some Trey Songz and Nicki Minaj. We arrive in good time to make it out Friday night, and after dropping my stuff off at the Sheraton Commander where I was sharing a room with S, I head out to meet J/I et al at Grafton. Not surprisingly my Kong/Grafton connections are still going strong and so I cut the line no problem and got some free double shots of Grand Marnier from my fav regular who’s still there after all these years, felt like dying, then was good to head to next destination: Fly and Owl like good ole times. Weekend off to good start with plenty of free booze to be had.
Next thing I know I’m waking up to a 7:30am wake-up call on Saturday morning to rally for the tailgate. Feel like death. I attempt twice to throw up all the booze from Friday night with zero success, so instead to make myself feel better, I inhale the breakfast room service that S ordered of scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon and toast. I immediately feel 10 times better and start to rally by opening up my personal bottle of champagne that I had brought (my HY tradition) and pouring some into my OJ. I finish the rest of the bottle over the tailgate that lasted all of about 1.5 hours before the cops started shutting everything down, not even enough time for me to explore around and see which old alums had the really nice tailgates this year with oysters and creme fraiche and Grey Goose martinis that I could steal. So I just continued with my champagne, Busch Lights and some mini bites of a torn-off Subway sandwich and decided to fill the rest of my belly with some post-tailgate nicer foods at the Owl, which consisted of beef stew, chowder, lobster rolls, chicken salad sandwiches, etc. I had the perfect amount of free food, just enough to barely coat my stomach and continue filling the rest of it up with shitty delicious beer.
The raging continued all day and with a few external aids I was good to go the rest of the night without a power nap. Before we know it, it’s already midnight and there is literally the most ridiculous line of 16-year-old girls anyone has ever seen outside the Phoenix and the Owl, and they were literally all Social Network groupies who are in love with Eduardo and Taylor Swift and made me want to kill myself. With Eduardo throwing down $50K towards the PSK party on Friday and throwing cash at the undergrads to go get 30 bottles of Grey Goose for the PSK party on Saturday, I was of course tempted to partake in the liquor situation but was absolutely not in the mood to deal with girls whose faces I wanted to smash. Not really sure what then led me to the Owl given there was a similar kill-yourselves girls situation but with a less-than $50K booze budget, but at least I was able to continue scoring free booze on the second floor and score some free action on the third floor.
After that I was ok to go home solo but I was surprise-awakened a few hours later to a knock on the door with S coming home with same third-floor friend N both of whom brought over some Felipe’s carnitas burritos, my favs. A few bites of Felipe’s burrito made me hungry for N’s burrito but unfortunately S was highly uncomfortable with the thought of me satisfying my craving in the one bed in the room with S right next to us, so I was sexiled to the floor and decided to finish the rest of my Felipe’s burrito the next morning for breakfast before we headed back to NYC. End of amazing weekend with splitting headache, overwhelming nausea and the worst knee bruises I’ve ever gotten in my entire life to show for it.
Poverexic in NYC 