Eggs, steak, men, and Happy Hour. Sounds like an ideal brunch combo, however this list of seemingly dissimilar things have something in common: they are all things that people are particularly picky about, and everyone thinks "their way" is the best. These things are not like the jeans in “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” where one pair of flared Levi's fit America Ferrera AND Blake Lively. No!
These preferences are tricky and personal. For instance, I won’t touch over-easy eggs, well-done steak, or men that wear hair gel. I also try to avoid a Happy Hour that doesn't reward my patronage with a killer special on well drinks (vodka!). And while it’s easy to turn a gross over-easy egg into yummy scrambled eggs, take a steak off the grill in time, and stay away spiky-haired guidos, finding the perfect Happy Hour is hard.
Obviously, Happy Hour is incredibly important to us. But why? Lets discuss:
-Happy hour is essentially drinking after work, which is when you REALLY want to be drinking- Check. -It (usually) doesn’t go until 4am, which is fine by me because we are getting too old (ie this isn’t college) to party till 4am on a Monday- Check. -It’s usually cheap- Check. -It has the word ‘happy’ in the title- Check. -We live in New York City, literally an endless buffet of Happy Hour destinations- Check.
So, Happy Hour should always be a joyous and dazzling occasion, right? Depends, sometimes there is unrest! Unlike Beyonce or Jill Zarin, Paige and I are not cool enough to have our friends follow us wherever we want to go, sometimes we have to compromise.
Therefore, we've been to Happy Hours with an abundance of hair-gelled patrons, Happy Hours at bars with TVs, Happy Hours with NO PBR (for Paige) and Happy Hours with vodka drinks over $3. We do this for the ones we love, for our friends who love frat boys who love sports. We owe it to our fabulous and patient girlfriends, who have on many occasions, joined us at bars packed with bearded, unemployed, hipster men, men with questionable hygiene and footwear, who love PBR and other cheap drinks, but will never buy you one.
Last night we chose to say "I Love You" to our girlfriends by suggesting Happy Hour at the new dude-packed Brother Jimmy's in Union Square. How did this compromise treat us? Well, despite Paige getting elbowed in the head by a boy wearing a visor who was trying to aggressively hug Kristy, pretty darn well!
Instead of 12oz. cans of PBR, they had 18oz cans. And instead of paying for $8 vodka drinks a sweet natured, pleated khaki-wearing gent named something like "Cory" paid the fee. We got to see our girlfriends, catch up, watch boys hit-on them and enjoy what ended up being free drinks (as long as we drank them from two foot long straws, whatever)! Yay!
So last night was basically “Sisterhood of the Traveling Happy Hour” if you will. You see, sometimes a well-done steak is pink and juicy on the inside, sometimes you meet a guido with a heart of gold (Tony Danza!) and sometimes a fratty Happy Hour at a cheesy BBQ joint in Union Square doesn't even feel like a compromise.
6 girls drinking for free, thanks to men rocking khakis and visors!- Check
Happy Wednesday everyone!