It's over....it's ALL over, thank GOD!!! I had pretty clear skin up until a week ago and the stress of planning a surprise for my young lover manifested itself on my face. Do men have *any* idea how difficult it is for a woman to keep a secret? It's like medieval torture! But it's over now and everything went off without a hitch.
Thursday (his actual birthday), I took it upon myself to drink enough for the both of us. I had time to kill between lunch with an old friend and dinner with Michael and his friends. So I did what any other person over the age of 15 would do: I had a few cocktails outside Wrigley Field with my brother. We talked about life and being somewhat jobless, its perks and downfalls, relationships with people who creepily have the same birthday, etc. Ya know, the stuff of life.
You could easily determine our monetary statuses by the 'uniqueness' of our evenings planned for our significant others. He was taking his girlfriend on a bike ride (cost: almost free), and I was taking my boyfriend to a discounted sushi night (cost: $70 for 5 people). Man, we really pull out all the stops for those we love.
The next morning I was hurting to say the least. Michael's friends were flying in to surprise him, and I was planning to play chauffeur. Planning was the key word there. My voracious hunt for a Taco Bell where I ordered a Sierra Nevada instead of a Sierra Mist put a kink in my plans. Too bad my BAC level and time management skills were a little off that day. I picked up his first friend, L. She's such an awesome girl that she was just happy to be there, even though I asked her to hop a train ride half way across the city through the worst part of town.
We quickly met up with Michael and headed out for drinks and appetizers at a local pub. The journey to the pub was *treacherous*!! It started to hail, then rain like a Hanoi monsoon, then the air started to swirl. I quickly say, "We should get to cover." I'm no Tom Skilling but the green sky, our metal surroundings and mini hurricanes in front of our faces tend to not be good signs. We headed inside and then things got really crazy. The rain came down so hard that we couldn't see an inch outside the windows....just in the nick of time. Phew!
When things settled down we got ready and headed to the W hotel to meet A and then to Italian Village. Then the second bout of rain began. It was terrrrrible. We couldn't find the door to the comedy show and we resorted to survival mode aka heading to the bar, Casey Moran's. For the typical southerner (which our guests were) this place was not exactly conducive to their lifestyles. Loud music and posers everywhere. We ventured to Glascott's instead, a more subdued and understated establishment. The final surprise came when we met J there. Then V wanted to head to a semi-club where we ended up in a sweaty basement full of skanks on the hunt for their next ex-husband. Ah yes, the real Chicago...(?)
The following day we woke up bright and early and met at Wrigley Field for some rooftop antics. Free food and booze for 3+ hours? You bet your sweet monkey butt we took advantage of it. I did, however, have an altercation with some metal stairs that left me with a nasty goose egg on my forehead. The bartender came running across with a bag of ice to ask if I was OK. Not my proudest moment but an AFV-esque mishap for the books. We ventured to Murphy's and found my sister who was already 4 sheets to the wind. I later came to find out that she ended up lost without a phone wandering the streets of Chicago looking for a place to crash. That girl needs a tether of some sort...
Unfortunately, I had to go to work completely hamboned at 5 PM after the game, but I sustained my drunkenness for the duration of my shift free of charge. I had a great time but felt bad that I couldn't hang out with Michael's friends from out of town. The next day I was called into work when I thought I didn't have to. Showing up in the clothes from the night before, and being an hour and a half late to work after a week of employment isn't the best way to make a good impression. Oops! I made good money though and sympathized with the hungover dad's on Fathers' Day.
Tidbit: Most people don't realize it but bartenders are on their feet for 7+ hours a shift. You'll never know the feeling of wanting to cut off your own feet until you've worked three back-to-back shifts. I've been walking like a 3-legged coyote who gnawed his way out of a bear trap.
Either way, the weekend as a whole was a good time. Michael's surprise face was a little lackluster and not exactly what I was going for, but I know he was happy. But from now on, no more surprises for the big galut. Until he turns 30....muhahahahaha
P.S. No Mom Story for this entry but check back in oh, I'd say about 4 hours, and I should have something good to relay.
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