Marco And The Magician: Part 2

December 30th 2012


It was pretty evident.


After sifting through our acid trip round of karaoke photos, we were ready to take on day 2 of inexplicable shenanigans.


We did basic things like eat lunch (at my favorite restaurant in NYC) The Meatball Shop , honoring their slogan of “We make balls!” whilst drawing collaborative masterpieces on their dry erase menus that looked like this:


I approve of your jealousy.

Priced at a reasonable $6.99 + tax. Poke me on Facebook for details.




We laughed. We joked. We left. And on our way out we noticed that the wind outside the premises was particularly epic this day…and I only say this because minutes between leaving the restaurant and pursuing the subway station, Penny and Claire were so stunned by the 80 mph winds, it caused them to collide heads, leaving each party with involuntary concussions.

I reacted appropriately


I care. Really, I do.

I care. Really, I do.




 Put the gang on the subway

Claire suffering only slight damage from the earlier collision.

Claire suffering only slight damage from the earlier collision.




Roll out.

And rolled out.




Ready for yet another series of unexpected decisions and ninja-like escapades.

That’s right..

I said ninja.

And by Ninja I mean Ninja New York Restaurant. And by Ninja New York Restaurant, I mean this:



Reservation for 11 please

Reservation for 11 please



We ate dinner in a “dungeon” like this:






With waiters who took our dinner/drink orders whilst posing in stances like this:

3 Mojitos Ninja Ricky

3 Tom Collins on the rocks Ninja Ricky.




Why was this happening? Clearly you’ve never hung out with me.



Now, may I remind you. That this trilogy originated as an intimate college reunion between Al, Hallie, Brandon, Penny, Claire, Lark and I – but before I knew it, I was sitting in a ninja dungeon with a merry lot of unexpected guests (which involved calling Ninja New York on 5 separate occasions to expand my reservation which by the way, the Super Mario world soundtrack is their ring  back tone)  Kwesi, our high school friend Max, Back up singer (BUS), and Nicole Detamble all included.  We found ourselves looking and feeling like a motley crew that photographed like this:

Welcome, all.

Welcome, all.



That quickly morphed into an eclectic “I think you’re my cousin’s brothers uncle twice removed that once served fondue to my aunt’s dentist’s brother but fuck it we’re at ninja village and this is awesome so let’s party on” type dynamic enjoying gracious deeds from BUS  including ordering a bucket of Ninja star nuggets for the table whilst we all karate chopped our salads with glee (and a bit of violence) upon the waiters request.



Crouton shower! (My 2nd favorite type of shower)

Makin it rain with some croutons.



A less barbaric approach

A less barbaric approach



The food was good

Yeah, you tasted pretty damn delicious.

You were good.



 Lychitinis were good

Fully aware Brandon and Al wanted to keep their martini ways on the I posted it publicly.

Fully aware Brandon and Al wanted to keep their martini ways on the DL….suckers.



And pretty soon after copious amounts of Armor edamame, Shinobi Paella and Buffalo Fish and chips we sat around in jovial satisfaction planning on our next desired location. Maybe we should go to the lower east side? Potentially check out Brookl-




…What the.


Indeed we had one more guest.


He flew in from the right side of the dungeon >>>


Stopped in the middle of the room.


And began screaming in ninja hysterics. He introduced himself as “Ninja Mike” and proceeded to pass out his…personal business card that looked like this:


…What exactly is…what is going on here…




An unexpected encounter

Capable of anything? Like free snacks?’




You know I didn’t even know I had ninja magic needs. But I totally did. And then I found out it had free delivery. NICE.




Hi, my name is Mike. I fulfill your needs via magic.

No need for dandelion violence here, Ninja Mike.


As promised, he began casually blowing the minds of every lychitini drinker in the room.

A job well done!

A round of applause for reliable mind-blowing!


He shuffled some cards, tossed some coins, summoned a mojito

This feels borderline witchcraft and wizardry...but I digress.

This feels very borderline witchcraft and wizardry…but I digress.



And once his unexpected yet rather enjoyable performance was over, Ninja Mike and his magician ways exited the premises.

And so did Al.



“Al?…Has anyone seen..Al?”


“I see him over there!”

We glanced over and noticed Al whispering in a muffled tone to (Ninja? Magician?) Michael in the far corner of the restaurant. I couldn’t hear much but I could hear these two things:

“So like…what are you doing tomorrow?” Al inquired.

“Dude are you…asking me out or…” – (Magician? Ninja?) Mike.

– back to the muffling-


We all stood there. Puzzled as pie in the ninja elevator until Al joined us shortly thereafter. We asked him what in the hell was going on to which he replied “Don’t worry about it.”


“…………………” Olive


“……………………………………………….” Brandon


“..” BUS



And we were on our way. Lark had told us of a place. A great place. A place called “Doc Hollidays”. Where rude signs are posted, cowboy boots are dangling from the ceilings and juke box capabilities are located at the far corner of the bar. We walked in and saw this:

It feels good to be threatened on my free time.

Tell me how you really feel.




Then bought a round of these:

Invisible shots! Unhelpful in inebriation. Fantastic for photography!

Invisible shots! Useless in inebriation. Fantastic for photography!



Eventually filled up that shit and cheersed with them like this:

This is going to suck.

In case you forgot was a cheers looks like



Found a balloon that said “Happy Baptism!” on it in spanish and snapped photos with it like this:

Feliz Bautismo!

Feliz Bautismo!



Did a physical demonstration of beer tits like this:

Wait you like beer? AND you like tits? Have I got the guy for you!

Wait you like beer? AND you like tits? Have I got the guy for you!



Began swing dancing with BUS in a violent manner like this:

A rolling swing dip that was indeed, above average.

His rolling swing dip? Unparalleled.



Made coherent faces like this:

Come here often?

Come here often?



Embraced each other entirely too passionately like this:

Who knew my face for  unbearable pain and sheer joy were indeed, the same.

Who knew my face for unbearable pain and sheer joy were indeed, the same.



Threw up peace signs and promptly played “Big Buck Safari” afterwards like this:

Peace, Love, Big Buck Safari.

Peace, Love, Big Buck Safari.



Destroyed food that did not belong to us like this:

Get ahold of yourself Claire!/ Pass me a fry.

Get ahold of yourself Claire!/ Pass me a Belgian fry.



Got down with our bad selves like this:





And this:

I've got 2 "raise the roofs" and a peace sign. You?

I’ve got 2 “raise the roofs” and a peace sign. You?



And all the while I glanced over at Al  periodically and noticed that he had an unusual attachment to his cellular device.  Strange for a man who prides himself on personal conversations and his technology free ways…curious when I noticed he was delivering messages to a mystery recipient. Perplexed when he asked me what my exact address was because…someone wanted to know…Did this call for a drunk text interception?Clarification that he wasn’t google searching Scarlett Johannsen with the stomach flu…again? A casual walk by to see if he was taking a selfie to drunkenly instagram for all the world to see?



I approached him like this:

Sneak attack cell phone inquiries.

Sneak attack cell phone inquiries.



 “SOOOOOOOOOO who’s the lucky girl?”


“I mean you’re texting. It’s 4am. You’re smiling. You’re drunk. So am I. Let’s hear it.”

“….Ahh…okay alright fine it’s – “


Our conversation was temporarily put on hold to satisfy the hunger of fellow herd members whilst we traveled home and set up camp in a subway station like this:






Had arguments about lingerie for 45 minutes on 4am public transportation like this:

Some bitches like lace. AND SOME BITCHES DON'T.

Some bitches like lace. AND SOME BITCHES DON’T.


And as we finally stumbled into my upper east side abode I tucked everyone into their not so designated resting places and said goodnight to another successful episode of NYE round 2.

But wait.

There’s more.

As I shut off the lights and made my way out of the living room I heard a distant voice echoing through pitch black that said:

“Hey Olive one more thing.”

It was Al.


“The person? I was texting?”



“It was the magician. I hired him for our New Years Eve pregame tomorrow. He’ll be here at 3pm. Goodnight!”


“Wait What.”

Stay tuned.