Here Comes the Story of the Hurricane

31 Aug

Being a New York resident, I feel it only necessary to do the obligatory Hurricane Irene blogpost.  For lack of a better, more adventurous and thrilling tale of survival, I will now proceed to give you a rundown of my mundane weekend spent cooped up in a small New York City apartment with a few friends and a shitload of alcohol:

Saturday, 11 AM:  Wake up with slight hangover due to previous night’s escapades.  Look out window and survey the scene.  Eerily quiet and desolate for New York, yet also surprisingly lively considering the doomsday flags they have featured on the 5-day forecast on TV.

12 PM:  Brunch.  After walking a few blocks west in morbid humidity, we arrive at the restaurant, only to discover it’s even hotter inside.  I do not handle heat well, as is obvious from my frequent menopausal tendencies.  Upon being seated, I quickly strip off my rainboots and socks.  No shoes, no shirt, no service?  Lies.

Makeshift Bar...not too shabby

1:30 PM:  Wander back to the apartment, stopping at CVS and the liquor store to pick up last minute emergency supplies for the weekend: crayons, sketch paper, molding clay, sparkling wine, 3 bottles St. Germain Elderflower liquor, brandy, peach schnapps.  I know, I know, something seems wrong here.  But don’t worry, we already had the 3 bottles of vodka and bottles of red, white and rose wine sitting patiently at home, along with a trusty set of playing cards.

2:00 PM:  Catch the end of Definitely, Maybe, followed by the end of Failure to Launch.

2:30 PM:  Begin process of soaking watermelon with vodka.  This proved difficult, but we managed and boy, did that watermelon have an experience that won’t soon be forgotten.

3:30 PM:  DVR The Proposal.

4:00 PM:  Order Chinese delivery.  Bake large cookie cake.  Begin preparations for Sangria.

Every time is a good time for sangria

4:15 PM:  Cheers!

4:30 PM:  Find Wet Hot American Summer DVD.  Watch Wet Hot American Summer.  Quote entire movie while eating wonton soup and cold sesame noodles with peanut butter.

6:00 PM:  Remove air conditioners from windows in preparation for hurricane, despite there still not being any rainfall.

6:01 PM:  Hot and strategically placing fans throughout apartment.

6:05 PM:  Realizing that removing AC was terrible idea, and that we have no way of getting the units back in the windows.  Wonderful.  Hot, sweaty, and wonderful.  Quickly change into shorts.

6:30 PM:  Watch The Proposal, commercial free.  Thank you DVR.

6:45 PM:  Eat cookie cake.  Mmmmm.

7:20 PM:  Crayon sketching begins.  Amid rainbows and stick figures, a few frustrated artists are born.

8:30 PM:  Begin making requests for Danna and the molding clay.  The Apt 2C Zoo officially opens its doors.  Rather than making molding clay a group activity, we realize that we prefer to bark orders at one person.  Make me a bicycle, clown!

Leo the Lion, Nelson the Elephant, Teeny the Pig, Kenneth the Koala, and Mehanata the Whale

10:00 PM:  Break out the cards and play Asshole.  Eventually realize we are not playing Asshole and instead are actually playing Bullshit.  Spend 10 minutes trying to remember and piece together rules for Asshole.  Play Asshole.

11:00 PM:  Missy decides to brave the storm and walk home.  We wish her well on her journey, hoping she doesn’t get blown away.  It is now pouring rain and the wind is picking up, but she is brave and armed with wellies, hooded waterproof jacket, and umbrella.  Pretty much a white, Jewish Al Roker.

11:30 PM:  Shower and attempt to not feel like a gluttonous slug of a human being.  Shower makes me clean, yet proves unsuccessful in every other aspect.

12:30 PM:  Place fan directly next to face, blowing at high speed, and collapse atop my bed.  Drift off into sleep hoping the city is not floating out to sea sans power and cable the next morning.

Sunday, 10 AM:  Wake up.  Lights are working.  Clock is working.  News is playing in the living room.  We are still alive!  Quickly realize it is no longer raining.  Seriously?

10:20 AM:  Eat bowl of cereal.

11:00 AM:  Take a walk.  It feels amazing outside, despite a slight spitting of rain.  Everything is closed and boarded/taped up.  Streets are not empty, but quite quiet for a Sunday in New York.  Bagel place is packed with line out the door, naturally.

12:00 PM:  Jen heads home to shower and run.  I take a nap on the couch.  Danna does arts and crafts.  I wake up an hour or so later to decorative artwork displayed on our fridge and the vodka watermelon now carved with roses.

2:00 PM:  Jen returns.  We cut into the watermelon and proceed to muddle the fruit despite not having a proper muddler.  We use our fingers and the bottom of the St. Germain bottle.  Pretty crafty, eh?  Concoct watermelon cocktails with vodka watermelon, watermelon water, and St. Germain.  So unbelievably yummy and refreshing.

Fresh watermelon cocktail

2:30 PM:  Watch The Switch.  Surprisingly better than expected.  It is now quite beautiful outside.  It is a disaster area within the apartment.  Slight confusion all around.

4:00 PM:  Eat leftovers from brunch the day before and polish off cold sesame noodles.

5:00 PM:  Play Egyptian Ratscrew.  Competitive personalities reveal themselves.  Eventually stop playing this game.

6:30 PM:  Make dinner.  Realize I have not drank any water all day.  Realize I have spent all weekend eating terrible food and watching 2nd rate television.  Continue eating dinner, flip through channels.

Sunday evening/night:  Watch VMA’s.  Lady Gaga is a dude now, Adele is awesome, Beyonce is preggers.  Check MTA website and learn that subways will in fact be running as of 6 AM Monday morning.  Accept that Monday will be a work day as usual.  Go to bed.

All in all, a pretty standard weekend, except that instead of eating, drinking, and socializing at legitimate establishments throughout the city, I sat around in sweats while sweating my ass off and partook in all these activities in the comfort of my own home.  Plus, I got to scratch a few titles off my bad-rom-coms-I-never-wanted-to-pay-money-for-but-at-some-point-wanted-to-see list.  So thanks, Irene, for a lovely, boring, food-filled, alcohol-driven, hot mess of a weekend.

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2 Responses to “Here Comes the Story of the Hurricane”

  1. Felicia August 31, 2011 at 9:58 am #

    I am laughing my ass off and people are staring and judging. But I don’t care – this is hilarious! Glad you survived your “hurricane” experience.

    • Allyson August 31, 2011 at 4:06 pm #

      Thanks Felicia! I do what I can to make you laugh…and to make those around you confused.

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