MIDTOWN IS A LEPER COLONY

In case all of you didn't know this, getting drinks in Midtown is a life-altering experience. A friend of mine, who has no job, thought it would be a funny idea to meet me after work and hit up all the after-work midtown bars. After my friend was denied entry into at least three different bars because he was wearing a t-shirt, we finally found our way into an establishment that would stoop to the level of allowing people in who didn't have pleated khakis and popped
collars. It was all fun and games until we were eight beers deep and completely surrounded by douschebags and, oddly enough, wall-to-wall redheads. Somehow we managed to find a bar that was full of fiery, ginger headed girls, who were pasty and freckled out as a motherfucker. It was like a leper colony except even more grotesque. These fire-heads were so brutally under-sexed and man deprived that they were literally grabbing our arms and I'm pretty sure one of them bit my ankle on the way out. We were desperately holding on to the "this could possibly, maybe turn out to be a funny night" scenario, but finally gave up when a pumpkin faced girl asked me for a smoke, by saying, no joke…."you guys look edgy, can we share a cig." Neither of us could muster the strength to even say anything. We simply shook our heads in unison. Three bars later, and much closer to Grand Central Station, after watching countless losers take jello shots topped with whipped cream, my boy was on the phone with his ex-girlfriend pleading, "OH GOD, I'M SO LONELY….I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE ANYMORE." Meanwhile, I was rocking back and forth on my barstool, close to tears, as the cover band was on their third Matchbox 20 song. Never again….oh God,never again.