The New York Experience

Reunited and it feels so good.

Two years ago one of my best (and only) guy friends Cabs - also known as My Husband - abandoned our awesome lives in New York to move back to Texas. We have had quite a few hi-jinx over the years, including the last time he was here and served as the witness to our now broken Kennedy's contract.  So when he agreed to come up here for the annual Texas Chili Cook-off, I knew it was going to be a great weekend.

He arrived on Friday and we met up after I got off work at the Standard Bier Garten. Since it is a mixture of college throw-back (aka the time when Cabs and I became friends) and snobby New York douchery, I knew he would like it. Plus in preparation for my German departure, any time I can surround myself with Hefeweizen and pretzels I feel like it will help me more easily assimilate when I get there. Or something.

You always remember your first time. 

After a few beers but before we headed to dinner, The BFF convinced us we should go upstairs to the Boom Boom Room, one of the most "exclusive" places in NYC. That is, after 10pm. Before then, they let in the regular normal ugly people. Good thing we were out early.

While we admired the amazing view, Cabs lived up to his Daddy Warbucks nickname I bestowed on him during college (he had a job just to pay for his bar tabs) and treated us to delicious cocktails. Thank you!!

Victory is mine.

Since choosing a restaurant for dinner can sometimes be the hardest decision ever, we took it as fate when Cabs and The BFF both separately mentioned a desire to go to Bar Pitti in the West Village for Italian. It did not disappoint. In case you ever go, I should mention that I ordered the most amazing pasta ever - Pappardelle Alla Fiesolana - helping me to "win" the meal. (For awhile I've been thinking about starting a food blog called "I Won That Meal" where everyone at the table judges each other's dishes. Who doesn't love competitive eating?)

Picture perfect.

We made sure to get a good night's sleep because Saturday required our A Game at the Lonestar Chili Cookoff. In order to start it off right, two friends hosted an amazing breakfast taco pre-party beforehand. Con QUESO. Yes, amazing. The BFF's Connecticut-born bf was all "Wait, you put eggs in tortillas?!" and I was all "Dude have you not lived yet?"  From there we headed to a roof top overlooking the Empire State Building with 1,000 of our closest friends.

Hooray friends in town!

Luckily on Saturday Mother Nature must have been feeling generous (unlike her normal hateful bitch self) and provided the most amazing weather we've seen in weeks. Sunny, blue skies, and seventy degrees. Almost hot. It was perfection. 

After four hours of catching up with old friends and telling everyone the story about how my dad was rejected from 230 Fifth (the rooftop where the event was held) for wearing shorts (possibly of the denim cargo variety, judge away) when I tried to take him for happy hour, it was time for us to leave. And obviously for a snack. (I somehow managed to only try two chilis the entire time!) We stopped by the food stands at Madison Square Park (Kate from Embarrassment of Riches wrote about it last week), and I decided I just had to finally try Roberta's pizza. And I had to have it right that minute. Because of my super impatient tendencies compounded by an afternoon of drinking Amstel Lights, I harassed the poor guy working into giving me some other girl's order who had stepped away for a minute. From now on, if anyone asks, I'm Jamie C.

Gal pals.

We had the goal of turning the weekend into an adult "Roundup" (for those of you non Longhorns, that is a notoriously intense Spring party weekend that involves around the clock activities). But we're old. And we took a five hour nap instead.

The ever popular Lychee martini and some friends.

Struggling to fight the lethargy once we finally woke up, we pulled ourselves together and had a great Thai dinner at one of my fave places Spice. (Order the Black Noodle, you'll thank me.)

Much of the dinner revolved around discussing lychees. "Is it a nut?!" "It looks like an eyeball!" "It's good, but not like in yo' face." "Well, except if it were an eyeball, then it'd be in your face. Literally." "Lychee: Looks like an eyeball but not in yo' face flavor." Slogan. Done. Call me Don Draper.

Continuing on with our quest to solve world problems, we put in one more attempt to rally. And on our way to meet up with some friends at Bowery Bar, a homeless person told Cabs to "keep his prostitute on a leash" when our friend accidentally bumped into him(/her?). "That's going to be the quote of the trip!" we all thought.

Until we got to the bar. And a guy who looked just like the dean from Community (i.e. skinny, bald, creepy looking dude) said to me, "You look like you're either trying to get the bartender's attention or you're deciding whether to order me off the menu. I'm having trouble reading your signs."

And that's when we realized it was probably time to call it a day. And that maybe we found a new quote.

On Sunday, to round out the trip, we concluded with a typical Day of Fun. Dos Caminos brunch, shopping trip for Hermes ties at Bergdorffs, and cupcakes. If only it ended with us at Red Lobster it would have been perfect (true story, that happened once, inspired by Cabs' purchase of a needle-point lobster Smathers and Branson belt; it was amazing).

See, friends, coming to visit me is totally worth it. If nothing else, it will be quite an experience.

Miss you already, Cabs. Please come back ASAP.