Last Night, She Said, “Oh Baby I Feel So Down”

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Hey guys, I’m writing you this email because well some crazy shit went down last night and I need to tell someone, but I’m still too hung over to get out of bed. So I think stuff got really real right after we did those shots with the investment bankers and they challenged us to go dance with that group of Russian girls with the tough as fuck looking boyfriends. So I went after that challenge like someone challenged me to a duel. I approached it kind of slick, I thought at the time, where I was just dancing by myself next to the girls and started trying to make some moves. I around to see if you assholes followed me, but you didn’t! Instead I look up and it’s a tough looking boyfriend guy dancing and trying to get up on my shit.

You guys must have been laughing so hard. I tell this dude I’m not gay after he grabs my ass. The dude has a strong grip and that didn’t feel good at all. He felt bad after I told him and then he insists on buying me drinks. They take me up to some rooftop VIP room where it’s all a bunch of people trying to look cool and very important. The only difference I can tell is that the music isn’t as loud, it’s not as crowded, and it’s really easy to get a drink. So this guy asks me if I prefer vodka or bourbon and I told him bourbon. He buys a fucking bottle of Makers and gets us all to sit down at this table with a bucket of ice.

The girls who are obviously the prettiest in the bar, the guys friends who are all gay, and me are just talking and laughing and then these dudes in shiny suits roll up to the bar showing off their watches and having their shirts unbuttoned way too far. If I ever look like this in the future just punch me in the balls and leave me at home by myself. The guys buy a bottle of champagne for themselves at the table next to ours and send a few glasses over to the ladies.

One of the ladies says she doesn’t like champagne and slides her glass over to me. First of all, I’m super drunk at this point and second of all… shit I forgot my second point. Anyway, I’m drunk as fuck. One of the guys at the other table sees this and gets pissed and starts saying how this girl disrespected their gift. The room gets quiet as a church on Sunday.

I stand up a little unsteadily and say, “Hey man, if it’s really a gift then it’s hers to freely give.”

“Fuck you asshole. You poor peasant in your H&M shirt thinking you are cool here in the VIP.”

First of all my shirt wasn’t from H&M it was from a flea market in Tangiers so I told him, “Just because you have a big bank account doesn’t mean everyone is going to like you. Stop trying to buy people’s attention. Try being a human first.”

The guys in the shiny suits obviously didn’t like this so they rolled up on us. I’m talking like 5v5 brawl in the VIP club. The bouncers show up and break everything up. I’m sensing that at least I’m about to get kicked out or all of us so I swipe the bottle of Makers and stuff it under my jacket. The bouncers know the guy who bought us drinks so they just told us to leave while the other guys were basically banned from ever coming back.

Obviously the group I was with kind of thought it was my fault we got kicked out and distanced themselves from me once we got to the street. I bid them a good night and apologized for the incident. The girl who I defended kissed me and slipped her business card into my pocket. Her name is Tiffany and she works at some law firm in D.C.

So it’s like 2:00 AM and I’ve got a half a bottle of Makers under my jacket. My phone is dead so I just start walking and taking a pull every few blocks. Obviously these pretty young kids, probably not even 21, see me and come over and start following me around asking for hits from the bottle. I told them I’d give it to them if they got me an Uber to the upper west side. Of course they agreed and within five minutes I was bottle-less and headed to the upper west side…except I didn’t know where in the upper west side.

The car pulls up to what I thought was my address at the time and I got out and I guess I knocked on the door. I blacked out at that point. Anyway, someone let me in I think and now I’m laying in this fancy bedroom, in some rich ass apartment, hung over as fuck, and I smell bacon cooking downstairs. My phone was charged up so I thought I’d send this out just in case I’m in the house of some serial killer or something. If I make it out let’s get brunch assholes.

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Writer of The Polymerist newsletter. Talk to me about chemistry, polymers, plastics, sustainability, climate change, and the future of how we live.

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