For the first time since moving to France, I was able to fly back home for the second time in one year. I was greatly looking forward to the event for several reasons, not least of which included a wedding, a Broadway show, and a chance to visit friends and family in warmer springtime temperatures. Now, as we know, I am NOT a fan of flying, and so after some wine and some drugs, I boarded the plane and flew along in relative oblivion. Lack of turbulence is a very great friend of mine and because of the time difference, I landed in NYC circa 10:30am. From there, I ran along to one of my best friend's apartments in Brooklyn to hang for a bit, did a little shopping and recouped before heading off to my brother's house to spend the evening. I generally stay with him and my sister-in-law when in town, primarily because I can't get enough of my darling (slash crazy mad genius) nephew!
That being said, I had some Indian fare with the fam that night, trying not to fall asleep too early nor stay up to late. Jet lag is mainly the worst! Then the next morning we engaged in a good ole fashioned New York City brunch. The French think they have embraced the concept of brunch but frankly without a stiff cocktail, it's truly a sad makeshift affair. And as much as Brooklyn can sometimes tend toward the annoying with its hipster/crunchy vibe, it can seriously DO BRUNCH. A few mac n' cheese balls, french toast bites, a Bloody Mary seemingly infused with beets later, and I was ready to prepare for the evening's festivities.
Very luckily, I flew in a week before my friend's wedding in time for the bachelorette party. And since she is basically Charlotte from SATC, she forbid us to plan any sort of stereotypical bachelorette fanfare. The good news was that we were still allowed to drink alcohol. So, we made dinner reservations at ABC Cocina (yumzzz!), had cocktails at Flatiron Lounge (wheeee!) and ended the night at a Paint N' Sip extravaganza!
Apparently the new trendy activity on the street is to learn how to paint whilst downing a bottle of red or white or rosé (or all of the above). In hindsight, trying to drink and paint AFTER tons of cocktails may not have been the best idea. But then again, many an angsty painter created their masterpieces under the influence (ahem... Van Gogh, Lautrec, Renoir). And it turns out, I am no different! Truth be told, the instructor was a bit of a sourpuss. One would have thought that to host a Saturday night bachelorette party at 10pm would have required at least a mild sense of humor, but she didn't seem to understand that a) we were drunk and b) even the lushiest whore can crave some articulate instruction on occasion. But once I started to ignore her incomprehensible directions, I found that I have a total knack for jaw-dropping oeuvres. Well, maybe not jaw-dropping but definitely recognizable. Plus it felt very relaxing and therapeutic!
We spent the final moment of the evening taking pictures with paintings, party props, and amazing t-shirts we had concocted. As we sauntered into cabs wearing our "Charlotte" shirts that idolatrized our heroine in her natural form as an adolescent with Sally Jesse Raphael glasses, a pink crown, and laser beams in the background, we knew it was just the beginning of a miraculous week.
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