Saturday, November 13, 2010

An Ode to My Favorite Painting

It was the day of Brewtopia and Boyfriend and I had [expensive] tickets to a day of sampling fine craft brews, one of our favorite things to do. We sampled over 60 different beers and were having the time of our lives when suddenly we realized we were wasted. Reallllllly wasted. So we decided to leave.

On our way out, we had to walk down a few flights of stairs and on the penultimate flight I could hear the sweet sounds of Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" and immediately went down and joined the cover artist on the mike for a quick duet. It was only mildly embarrassing.

On our way out, Boyfriend and I decided that we NEEDED food. IMMEDIATELY. We walked outside in the bright sun and happened upon a man selling wares on the street. One of them was a MASSIVE painting - roughly the size of a large door - that depicted a man and a woman dancing against a blue background. It looked roughly like this:

I took one look at it and declared I HAD to have it. "How much?" I asked the racially ambiguous man selling the painting. "100 dollar", he declared." "Hmm.. how about 40?" "Fine," he conceded as he grabbed the painting for me.

Excited about my new purchase, I happily skipped along the street, Boyfriend following me with my painting that towered over his 6 feet. Suddenly, reality hit us: How were we going to get this painting back to Queens? First we tried to hail cabs, with all the cabs flying by us when they saw our painting. Then, I ran away from Boyfriend, hailed a cab, got in and asked him to drive down the street and pick up my friend. After I asked him to pop the trunk, we started putting the painting in and when he realized that we were trying to stuff a door of a painting in his trunk he just sped away, leaving his clutching the painting in his wake. From here, I tried to hail van cabs and tried to barter with a UPS driver, all to no avail.

As our drunkenness became more pervasive, we realized that we needed to get some serious food, and FAST. The painting still weighed us down and we knew a restaurant wouldn't seat us with our third wheel. Suddenly, inspiration hit me: Hide the painting in one of the construction sites we just passed! I grabbed the painting from Boyfriend, mumbled my plan and ran into the open construction site next to us. In the far corner was a ditch where they seemed to be throwing cardboard or something. I lowered myself into the ditch, place the painting in the bottom and then ran back out, ecstatic with my cleverness.

Boyfriend and I walked around for awhile, trying to find a place that would accept two drunkards stumbling into their restaurant. With nary an Olive Garden in site, we settled on a dimly lit, mostly empty bistro. I don't remember much of the actual meal but I do remember waiting for the check forEVER, my least favorite thing to do. Whenever this happens, I always try to encourage Boyfriend to dine and dash but, because he is a straight-edged sword, he always thwarts my attempts. I sat there fuming, waiting for Boyfriend to come back from the bathroom when I noticed him standing outside the bistro window, tapping on the glass and waving for me to come out.

YES! We were finally doing it! With a huge smile on my face, I grabbed our doggie bags and "stealthily" slipped out of the restaurant and then began running with Boyfriend, with no particular destination. Across the street, a little Ecuadorian grabbed Boyfriend and said "No! You no pay!" "Oh," Boyfriend said, genuinely confused, "I didn't leave my card?" Apparently he didn't realize that we had dine and dashed and just thought since the meal was over, it was time to leave.

Fully paid, I began looking for my construction site ... but I had no idea where to go. I was in a foreign neighborhood and there were construction sites EVERYWHERE. At one point, I scaled a fence to get into a closed construction site, but my painting was not in any of the ditches. I started roaming the streets of Chelsea, crying, devastated that my beautiful painting was hiding from me. I stopped random strangers on the street and, between intermittent bursts of tears and howls, slurrily asked if they knew where any open construction sites were. I never received any answers but loads of concerned looks were thrown my way.

Eventually, Boyfriend said we had to give up so we got on the Subway to take the hour and half ride home. I immediately stripped down and jumped in the guest bed (which is not in an enclosed section of Boyfriend's house). Boyfriend asked his roomies what time it was whereupon they replied "8."

After I woke up from my hot mess day, I scoured Google Maps to see if I could find any open construction sites to see if there were any that looked like the one that housed my painting. I failed to find any and chalked this up to the most ridiculous thing I've ever lost while drunk. Goodbye painting, goodbye. I hope somewhere a construction worker has adopted you.

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