This is how pathetic I was last night… a prostitute had to help me get a cab. Rewind, and let me start with what I do remember.
I went with a couple of people from work to the restaurant across the street where we always receive an endless flow of free booze and food. To our pleasant surprise, it turned out to be one of the manager’s birthday who is a friend. The champagne is opened. More drinks and good conversation brings us to the next bar where I dance by myself like an asshole to the terrible live band playing bad 90’s hits. Now there are six of us.
Next memory: skipping down Hollywood Boulevard arm and arm with Will, the birthday boy, like we’re in the fucking Wizard of Oz. Who knows, we may have skipped right over Judy Garland’s star.
Next memory: strip club. Now there are two of us. Don’t know how that happened. It’s only myself and Will, who I have never hung out with outside of visiting each others bar, watching high-end strippers bounce their ass up and down in a way that makes it look like it’s independent from the rest of their body. I shyly threw some ones on the stage, looking like one of those timid kids at the petting zoo who is scared that the goat is going to bite her if she gets too close.
Next memory: standing on the sidewalk at God knows what-o’-clock, and now there is one. I’m by myself in the middle of the night on a side street that is just off of Hollywood and Vine (an intersection you don’t want to find yourself alone at) with no purse and no car and wearing Will’s jacket. Until this moment, I was having a great time.
Obviously, my purse has my cell phone and all of my money and wallet in it. When I could not find my car, a random woman who was also outside came to my rescue. I barely remember her face, but I remember she made the executive decision that I needed a cab. I don’t think I was using words at this point. She called me a cab, and waited with me. I really hope I was able to mumble a sincere thank you.
I now believe that everything happens for a reason, because THANK GOD we went to that strip club. Inside of Will’s jacket pocket that I was wearing, there was $80 worth of ones. This was the lifeline that got me home. Don’t remember how I got into my house, because I didn’t have my keys. Maybe I should check my windows to make sure that I didn’t fuck up at my break-in. Woke up in the morning still in my clothes, look around me and see a bunch of one dollar bills strewn over my bed, I remember that I have no phone, car or wallet, and I literally started laughing out loud. This was going to be a fun day.
I manage to get out of bed, and come up with a plan to get my life back together. I grab the ones, and my little black address book, assuming I’ll need some numbers in a little bit, and walk my still drunk ass the 1.3 miles to the subway station. I arrived back at my bar and found a co-worker who had Will’s number. I was hoping that he would be able to provide me with either my purse or some answers. Both if I was really lucky, but I was not betting on that. We tried getting in touch with him, but no response. I put some Bailey’s in my coffee to try to nurse the hang-over, and it definitely temporarily helped. It’s disturbing how well I can function with a hangover. Too much practice.
After hanging out for a couple of hours with some of the bar regulars, telling my story to everyone, I had them ALL interested in what the hell happened last night. We needed clues. We needed Will. I didn’t even remember the names of the places we were at to try to call the establishments to see if they found my purse. FINALLY he calls back with news. He has my purse! I am SO lucky. I honestly thought it was gone for good. I run over to his hotel bar to collect my things, and begin to exist as a real human being again.
Will had all the answers. God bless him. And how this guy ended up with my hot mess on his birthday… poor thing.
At the bar with the lame live music, Will and I apparently picked up some big dude that ended up being a weirdo, so that’s when everyone else left, leaving us with the giant, who we ditched by telling him we were taking a smoke break. Will and I then went to the strip club, and after, I said I was driving home. Like a kind gentleman, he talked me out of that ridiculous idea, and we apparently went back to the hotel he manages and the place where the night began, to chill for a bit and sober up. He told me that we stumbled out to the back patio where we laid down for a bit while our cells rejuvenated, and huddled up together, trying to keep ourselves warm with the two jackets that we turned into makeshift blankets. As he’s telling me this, I’m vaguely remembering laying with him and thinking it was oddly comfortable, but then it just goes black again. We were such a pathetic scene, that the night watch guy brought us a big down comforter, and we were able to fall asleep for what I’m guessing was a couple of hours.
Now here is where things took a wrong turn. Will says that I woke up, got up without saying anything, so he assumed I was going to the bathroom, and then I just never came back. Leaving my purse and jacket behind and his jacket on. I must have walked to where I thought my car was, forgetting that I had valeted that day, and this is where I meet the kind stranger who called me the cab. Will was laughing his ass off when I told him that part, and I was like, “I can’t figure out what her deal was. She must not have been homeless because she had a cell phone, but she was definitely just on the streets.” He told me she was a prostitute. Duh.
Living the dream, my friends. One drink at a time.
P.S. I did all of this in heels and without throwing up.