The last trip I made to New York was a little different than my usual trip of getting drinks with friends followed by a wholesome day with insert-relative-here. I had a primary goal in mind: to find Hubbard a good time. My entertainment, my drunkeness wasn't of top priority. I wanted to personally help my best friend find some lovin and happiness. This was a guy who, in a matter of weeks, broke off his engagement, almost died from a ruptured appendix, heard his father had melanoma, and lived with a roommate who would giggle in the bathtub with his boyfriend through all hours of the night. That last part has been going on for a year, but it also set up the perfect greeting you'd want when you're just getting out of the hospital.
I sat around the apartment with Hubbard's non-tubbing roommates waiting for him to get back from acting school. Laying in plain view under the sofa was a magazine of movie stills of topless actresses. I knew this was Hubbard's because when he was recovering from surgery he constantly called me with one of two questions: 1) Hey, what's the name of the song that goes nah nah nah nah nah? or 2) Hey, I can get you any naked scene an actress has done. Who do you want?
I think they used a booby double for Jessica Alba. Anytime they don't show face and boob in the same shot I raise an eyebrow, among other things.
Rockhard and Mike had warned me about what to expect with Hubbard, and after a few minutes of us hanging out, I knew the weekend would not go as I had idealized. I wouldn't say that Hubbard was milking his scar and pain for everything it was worth, but he still seemed shellshocked from the past month. Combined with being a bit of a primadonna, he clearly wasn't ready for the things I had set for him. It also didn't help that the girl I had coming from Florida to "visit" cancelled at the last minute. Just as well, he wouldn't have been able to handle her in his condition, and I guess she would/should have a say in the matter too.
A very surreal hour passed by where Hubbard was ranting to me about various topics such as clashes with his father and searching for the meaning of life. He said everything you would expect from a introspective, drunk, high actor... only Hubbard was completely substance-free and wasn't trying to sound smart. After Hubbard said he had to get up early the next morning (dick), Mike and I met Rockhard at a jazz club 8 blocks from the apartment (another reason for me to move to New York). Rockhard was mildly drunk, having just paced the streets of New York with ale in hand after his show that night failed to be picked up. Considering he's already been in 3 shows-- this latest one on Broadway-- since moving to Manhattan 3 months ago, I'm afraid of how he'd react if he had the luck of the 99% of other actors out there.
A cute Czechoslovokian woman was tending to our table. She had one of those constant smiles where you almost think she's shit-faced drunk, until you just realize it's a personality thing. That can either be alluring or excrutiating. In this case, attached to her accent, it was alluring. I freely allowed Rockhard to work his charm after she clearly expressed an interest in him. She was mocking his non-alcoholic pepsi and leaning into his arm like a slutty eigth grader. The rest of the night was non-eventful other than that the music was awesome, the calamari was a bit overcooked, and Rockhard got some Czechoslovokian digits.
The next night my cousin Maria called me about a party at this bar called Jake's Dilemma, $25 all-you-can-drink. While this sounded like my kind of deal, I wondered how I would talk Hubbard into going. Considering that he didn't want to drink, had little money, and was being a total diva, I expected I would need to use those talents I supposedly should have brought to law school to get Hubbard out there. I got him to make one of those deals where it seems like I'm compromising, but I get my full way because I know how the night will turn out. One of those classic "we'll go, check it out for an hour, and if you're still feeling shitty, we'll leave" deals that never ends that way.
We arrive at Jake's, soaked from the rain, and scope out the scene. Rockhard and I complain about the lack of cute girls and head off to pre-break the seal. When we return from the bathroom, it's as though all the cute girls had followed us in (we weren't even wearing Axe). Mike and Rockhard point out a cute blonde. They look for consensus, we declare her cute, and don't do a damn thing about it. I look over and spot a very attractive girl, don't give a shit about consensus, and don't do a damn thing. This is standard routine.
A few gin and tonics later, we're hanging out with Maria, who's definitely cool enough to keep my friends entertained. She's also very New York Italian, very loud. When I got off the phone with her hours before, I was about to tell Mike where Jake's was, only for him to go, "Oh I know. I heard the directions your cousin gave you." I was 15 feet away from him at the time.
I'm figuring Hubbard now has enough incentive to stay the rest of the night and consider trying to find him a girl. I'm a total giver when it comes to these situations. I'd rather see my friends find a girl than succeed with one of my own. It's part genuine selflessness, part insecurity from fear of rejection. Either way, I knew I'd feel great if I helped Hubbard find some lovin. Before I can ponder the situation any further, though, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, and I like what I see.
Very attractive girl from before is asking me if I realize that my coat has been rubbing against her for the past minute. Honestly, I had no clue she was behind me, and I'm no voyeur. Initially I'm not sure if very attractive girl is pleasantly telling me to scoot or if she likes me, so I continue talking with her to evaluate the scene. It becomes very clear we have a mutual attraction here. A hip hop song I can't recall plays over the system, and she asks me if my friends and I dance. Rather than answering, I take very attractive girl's hand, leave my white rhythmless friends, and invite my latin hips to the party. My "total giver" reputation takes a slight hit.
We have a great time dancing, checking each other out, and discovering that we're both totally awesome. Eventually a Britney Spears tune comes on. She says, "Sorry, I can't dance to this. Want to come over to my table?" I obviously do. We walk back to her old table, and she has one friend sitting there. I recognize her. It's the cute blonde, and there's a guy sitting next to her: my buddy Mike. Here we were, two friends with two friends, both with girls we had pointed out earlier, oblivious to the fact that they had come together. No role of wingman was necessary, as we were both genuinely interested in the girl beside us. Mike would later tell me, "The funny thing is, I was completely soaked, hadn't shaved for three days, and was just standing there holding my friend's coat. I looked like ass. I was just relieved they weren't psychos."
The rest of the night was incredible. My first outing with my cousin since she turned 21 was a smashing success, and I'm sure she took note that I managed to live up to the reputation my other cousins had unfairly set for me. He ain't just the quiet one, kids! Hubbard had agreed to stay for an hour, but we didn't leave until some time after 3. He wasn't even being a primadonna about it. I was proud. As we went to sleep that night, Rockhard complained about how Mike and I found some girls and he didn't.
"Whatever man, you've got the Czechoslovokian waitress waiting for you," I bitched.
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Hey this weekend was pretty cool."
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