Unfortunately - at least in New York - the opportunity to pretend like you're still carefree and resilient exists at every turn. As I explained to a weekend visitor of my fellow Woo Girl friend M, day drinking is always on the table.
It's cold/rainy/snowy, there's nothing better to do than go sit at a bar and complain about the weather. It's sunny/beautiful/perfect, there's nothing better to do than go sit outside at a bar and enjoy the weather.
Unfortunately it was the former that brought us together on Saturday. After Ashley and I participated in our third annual Big Apple BBQ festival - trying to make the most of our Salt Lick while the weather felt like tiny kittens were licking our faces (you know what I'm talking about, that horrible mist rain) - we escaped to the nautical dive bar Rusty Knot just before the torrential downpours hit.
Following a few signature tiki cocktails (always a good move to start with rum at 3pm!), we moved to another bar where more friends came to meet us - including a girl who I played softball with approximately 100 million years ago. What are the odds?
And that's when the problem started. Instead of staying in for a low key night to balance out my day, I made the most of The BFF's last Saturday before she leaves. Our last night out together. (I'm still in denial.) Her BF brought his childhood BFF and we had a great night, ending up at the Mondrian Hotel in SoHo. It's a beautiful space that just makes you feel glamorous. That is, until you think about it the next morning when you realize I'm too old for all this.
Sometimes a little regression to your youthful days of summer is what you need to make the most of the time you have with friends.
At least that's what I told myself after I realized I would survive. It was a little touch and go there for awhile.
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