Poverexic in NYC

On Thursday a vendor took me out to the most extravagant dinner ever.  She took me to Hurricane Club near Credit Suisse, which I had heard about before but had never been to.  My friends go there for drinks sometimes, but the food was AMAZINGGGGGGGGGGG.  First of all, this place doesn’t even look like a restaurant — from the outside it looks like some sketchy high class “telo” as they call them in Argentina, or, sex motel.  And then you walk in and there are these double doors as if it’s some super exclusive club or something, and then you walk through that and you’re like, oh.  It’s a restaurant.

Anyway, we sit down and immediately we order these mai-tai-esque drinks that are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen with a fresh slice of pineapple and mandarin orange pieces, and I take a sip and it tastes just like how I imagined those delicious-looking narcotic fruit drinks that Will Ferrell and Danny McBride are given by Chaka in Land of the Lost (most underrated movie of all time): http://vimeo.com/5729014

I go to take a piss and when I come back, my vendor has already ordered spring roll appetizers and immediately asks me what I want to order.  I tell her I really like anything and everything when it comes to food and that I’ll leave the ordering up to her, as long as there’s a fair representation of meats on the table.  She asks the waitress what she recommends and what their most popular entrees are, and she starts listing out, “Well our ribs are REALLY good, and our scallops too; the filet mignon is great; a lot of people like our cold sesame-peanut noodles; the spicy shrimp is another favorite”–WE’LL TAKE ALL OF IT, interrupts my vendor.

WAIT SERIOUSLY.  I looked over and did a total Sebastian jaw drop:

Sebastian Jaw Drop

At this moment my vendor became my favorite person ever.  We were going to become best friends.  She was a very large lady (think: opera) so I think when she said that the waitress wasn’t all too shocked about that coming from her, but then she looked over at me and goes, “Um, are you sure?  The portions are actually quite generous so between the two of you ladies, I would recommend you maybe just share two entrees, not five……..”  WE’LL TAKE ALL OF IT, IT ALL SOUNDS DELICIOUS, I WANT ALL OF IT.

So there we had it.  Between one obese white lady and one small Asian girl, we had 5 delicious entrees and it was one of the best days of my life.  The filet was cooked perfectly medium rare and came with crispy fried onions, the ribs were phenomenal and fell right off the bone and came with these really interesting lotus root chips that were a better version of potato chips, the scallops were amazing, the sesame noodles were nice and gummy in a good way, and the shrimp was just the right spicy.  I thought I was going to be overwhelmed by all this food, but I was actually going at a pretty impressive pace since the thing about me is that when it’s just pure protein and hardly any carbs, I can really take down a lot (that’s what she said).

I was so absorbed in eating that I didn’t even notice that I hadn’t ordered a new drink in a while, but once I did I decided to go with the most interesting drink on the menu: a bourbon-based drink with lime and jicama juice with cayenne pepper, all served in an actual RED PEPPER SHELL.  I loved it.  Hurricane Club was my new fav hot spot.  And the best part was that my vendor let me take home all the leftovers (shocking…), which became the best leftover lunch the next day that I had ever brought to work.

Before the NBA finals, A (who is from Florida) made a bet with S (who is from Dallas) re: Mavs vs. Heat.  At this point, pre-NBA finals, I didn’t care all that much.  I had low hopes for Dallas (since they never win anything), and I was kinda rooting for the Heat to be honest because they were top dog.  Anyway, the bet was this: if the Heat won, A would owe S a “Miami-themed” dinner — i.e., Cuban.  If Mavs won, S would owe A and her bf B a Tex Mex dinn–WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA WAIT.  A-N-D her bf B…??  Ok, B had nothing to do with this bet- why did he get to go in on a free dinner deal?!?!??!  So, I got myself into this free dinner deal by “siding” with the Mavs.  Fab!!  If Mavs won, A owed S AND ME a free dinner.  I instantly became a Mavs fan.

Well you know it!  Sunday was victory dinner — hooray Mavs.  We didn’t end up having Cuban in honor of Mark Cuban, but B did make us a beautiful home cooked meal of bbq salmon, fried okra, refried beans, and chips with homemade guac with tons of beer.  As a good guest, S brought homemade peas with bacon, and I as a good guest brought 4 Argentine cookies that I had offered to P back in college as an “I’m sorry” gift for stealing his virginity.  No one else thought it was amusing that that was my contribution to dinner.

BBQ Salmon

Victory Dinner

Dinner was absolutely delicious, and it was one of the healthiest dinners I’ve had in a while.  Hit pretty much all the food groups.  No one ate my tainted cookies but luckily A had some fresh strawberries for dessert.  With free dinner ending with Game of Thrones season finale, it was truly a perfect night.  Even though my fav character Khal Drogo died, it’s comforting to know his spirit still lives on in Tyson Chandler’s cock.

On Friday I took a 15 hour nap after work.  I got home around 7pm, immediately passed out on my bed thinking I would just take a 5 hour nap and then go out around midnight, but instead I woke up the next morning at 10am.  Why you say?  Because this past week I went out more days during the week than I had since college.  My host sister from when I was living in Argentina was in town, and I had to show her a good time.  I knew NYC wasn’t going to live up to Buenos Aires for her.  How could it, when in Buenos Aires the way we used to roll was having dinner on the weekends at 1am, pregaming at 3am, going out to the bars/clubs at 4am, then ending our night around 9am by going straight to breakfast in the plaza.  I had pre-warned Argentine sister that here in NYC, people typically come home after a night out around 4am, not go out to start the night around 4am.  She seemed disappointed, but excited to explore NYC.

The week started with the annual Tulane crawfish boil and all-you-can-drink beer at Boat Basin last Saturday.  I had gone to the LSU crawfish boil last year and was curious to compare LSU vs. Tulane — as expected, Tulane’s was better.  I mean, they had crawfish in a canoe — can’t get any better than that.

Crawfish Boil

After finishing off an entire tray of crawfish, corn on the cob, red bliss potatoes and jambalaya, washed down with endless cups of free flowing Abita, S and his Zog Sports friends decided to start a huge flip cup contest in the middle of the crawfest.  I was happy to find out I still hadn’t lost my flip cup touch after all these years, and it was refreshingly amusing to see that some people – like S and S – were shockingly horrible at flip cup (chuckle).  Needless to say we were all pretty shitfaced by the time crawfest was over but I disappointingly didn’t get laid at the end of all this because apparently the 2 guys who were hitting on me the entire day actually had girlfriends.  And they were rugby short.  Why does this keep happening to me.

Anyway, Sunday was Mavs championship day, Monday was recovery day, and Tuesday we all went to Kumo all you can eat sushi/all you can drink beer/sake (replacement New Ashiya location) to introduce my Argentine sister to her first sake bombing experience.  I had forgotten how rough sake bombing is on a weekday but I had about 30 rolls of sushi in my stomach to coat the lining so was feeling pretty great when we went out after sake bombing to a hookah bar, where we smoked about 6 hookahs among 6 people until well past 2am.  I think it was literally the latest I had stayed out on a weekday since Senior Spring.  I’m too old for that now.  Wednesday was pretty chill until I went over to T’s around 1am where I suffered through an awful coke dick experience and he earned his red wings, and Thursday we all went out to E’s birthday party, followed by Spitzer’s where I ran into some fellow Harvard peeps and stayed out much later than my body could physically handle.

After my 15 hour nap on Friday I was feeling completely refreshed and ready for a full-on Fraturday, which is what happened on Saturday when frat boy M came in town from Chicago, as did lover boys B & T.  On Fraturday instead of taking a 15 hour nap, I literally drank with S/M/B/T for 16 hours straight starting at 11:30am for drunk brunch (or, drunch) at City Crab (otherwise known as Shitty Crab) followed by 4 hours of beirut in the middle of the afternoon at Stumble Inn.  My beirut skills were not as up to par as my flip cup skills were, but the incredible thing was that I did spend pretty much the entire Fraturday drinking for free with the boys buying pitcher after pitcher after rounds and rounds of drinks.  Unfortunately S who thinks he epitomizes the concept of “work hard, play hard” actually left the beirut festivities early to go take an afternoon nap and missed out on an incredible Czech dinner in the UES where we got photographed to appear in Wednesday’s New York Post (I guess it was a new restaurant opening).  So to give him crap for that, we all decided to barge into his apartment unannounced post-dinner to throw a pregame there against S’s will.  With a lot of 5-hour energies and loud booming techno music playing against Planet Earth on mute, we pregamed at S’s apartment for about 4 hours before heading out for a night of dancing at Pourhouse and Penny Farthing until 3:30am.  It was like our Chicago frattrip all over again except this time Bear Jew wasn’t with us to get kicked out of three consecutive bars and DFi wasn’t with us to be screaming night terrors in the middle of the night.  Happy Frat Week.

Last night was the first and only time in my entire life that I had ever been proud to say I’m from Dallas.  I never used to be a Mavs fan or any Dallas sports fan for that matter because they’ve never been good, nor have they ever won anything except for the Cowboys like a decade ago.  And I’ve never been one to root for the underdog because I just don’t believe that the underdog should ever win.  I mean, the top dog is top dog for a reason — because they’re BETTER.  If an underdog wins, it’s almost always because the top dog fucks up and allows the underdog to win.  For example, back in my Asian piano playing days in high school, if anyone ever beat me and I ended up silver, it was because I fucked up and they lucked out — not because the one who ended up getting gold was better than me.  This mentality probably stems from disapproving Asian father:

Disapproving Asian Father

Anyway, yesterday the underdog won, and I have to admit it was pretty exciting even though it went against everything I usually believe in.  Over the past few weeks I started to legitimately enjoy watching the Mavs, not so much because they were actually good, but more because I identified my new fav athlete: Tyson Chandler.  Those who know me know this is very uncharacteristic of me considering I’m racist towards everyone when it comes to juicing, but I don’t know… it’s something about the fact that Tyson Chandler reminds me of Khal Drogo from Game of Thrones… and probably because they both just look like they have 16 inch dicks.

Tyson Chandler

Khal Drogo

Anyway, besides watching Tyson Chandler on the big screen, I probably enjoyed myself the past 3 games because when we were on a winning streak, I was on a drinking streak.  Completely for free.  These Dallas fans sure do get excited when their team wins for the first time ever.  For the last 3 games we established Bleecker Heights above Five Guys as the “Mavs Bar,” and last Thursday night, S’s friend M was on such a winning high that he bought rounds of shots for everyone crowding around the bar every time Jason Terry was on the runway.  Needless to say I was blackout by the time I left the bar, and I’m pretty sure that bartender made more in tips that night than I make in a month.

LET’S GO MAVS!!!

Spent the past few days in Chicago for work for my second time ever in the city, and I’ve decided that I’m really starting to like Chi.  Despite the horrible winters, the summers there are absolutely delightful, and this time I realized more than ever what a fratastic city this is.  The last time I was in Chi with S et al, I was so absorbed in our own fratmosphere that I didn’t pay attention to the rest of the Chi crowd.

On Friday I was meeting up with C for dinner with his law firm buddies at this place called Citizen Bar.  I arrive at this two-story outdoor bar, and my jaw just drops.  I seriously never knew there were so many fratty young people living in this city.  I’ve been living in the East Village for way too long.  SOOO many pastel pop collar shirts at Citizen Bar — I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I felt like I was back at the Fly Garden Party all over again.  It was my dream come true.  Where were all these guys in NYC?!?!??!??!  Oh, I know.  Fratting around at Dorrians and Fiddlesticks.

Dinner with C was lovely, and free for me.  I had just hung out with C the past weekend for 5 year reunion, and so we reminisced on the good times that neither of us could remember.  What was supposed to be a civilized dinner turned into quite the rowdy dinner of C’s law firm friends throwing back beer after beer with C’s friend D hitting on me in what was a subtle way until C loudly stated, YOU GUYS SHOULD JUICE.  I laughed it off awkwardly and then pulled C to the side with a firm look of NO, TOO SHORT, but I played along with it anyway in an effort to get a free meal out of the night.  I ordered the most incredible mini chili hot dog appetizer and strip steak with guacamole and mashed potatoes, and I totally succeeded.  When D willingly picked up the tab for me, C nudged me again, being like “You know what THAT means” and I gave him another look of NO WAY.  Unfortunate for D, what he didn’t know about me but what he probably should have guessed about me based on the way I was talking all night was that I never go home with a nice gentleman who buys me dinner.  “Nice” and “dinner” aren’t in my preferred vocabulary.  Guys who DON’T buy me dinner on the other hand…..

Anyway, I was on a roll on this trip and scoring free meals left and right.  The next morning my wireless wasn’t working in my hotel room, and so I leveraged that to get what I wanted.  How do I always score things for free, you ask?  There’s a strategy to it all.  It’s called being bitchy, yet appreciative.  Here’s what you have to do in a situation like this, when you’re the customer and not getting the service you deserve:

1. Start by complaining to a low level rep
2. Complain to another low level rep — they likely aren’t going to be helpful either, so then you demand to speak to their manager; invokes fear
3. Speak to manager — acknowledge that manager is manager level; acknowledge that reps are lower than them
4. Make it clear that the REPS are not being helpful, but that you hope as the MANAGER, he/she can be more helpful
5. Explain situation; be firm and bitchy without raising your voice — buzz words include “completely unacceptable” and “huge inconvenience”
6. Manager apologizes; finds solution
7. Be very appreciative but reinforce that what happened was NOT ok — bring it back to the fact that manager > rep: e.g.,  “You know, I have to be honest; it was incredibly frustrating talking to the lady at the front desk; she just really wasn’t helpful at all and I was able to get ZERO work done all morning as a result of this inconvenience, but you on the other hand have been INCREDIBLY helpful — I really appreciate your help”
8. Manager’s self-confidence as manager goes up; tries to find way to thank you for boosting their ego for the day
9. Manager gives you free things
10. You = winner

That is how I scored a $50 delicious room service breakfast of 4 eggs over easy, toast, sausage, bacon, 3 kinds of juices and coffee for free.

To add to the free weekend, I went to a work reception on Saturday night where they rented out the entire Field Museum and themed it molecular gastronomy with caterers walking around in white lab coats and lab goggles.  It was one of the most amazing receptions I’d ever been to.  In line with the theme, the caterers were walking around with gazpacho in test tubes, sweet corn puree made into lollipops on a dry ice machine, pork belly with marshmallow cream torched on the spot, mini deviled quail eggs, filet mignon slices with horseradish foam, dumplings in really thin colored edible paper, etc etc etc.  It was all literally right out of Top Chef.

After that I was of course still hungry, so I met up with DFi for a cheap stir fry dinner that night; the next night I watched the Mavs vs. Heat game with DFu over homemade Hamburger Helper and matzo ball soup; the next day after that I had lunch with DB; and my Chi trip was complete.  Heart Chi.