November 9th 2012
“Oh…Olive I didn’t realize you brought someone home last night.”
I up in my bed in a panic
Harper was standing in my doorway with an amused look on her face
I looked at her
Then looked to my right.
And there he was.
For those of you who don’t know what Hot Fries are or even worse, don’t like them.
Then I suppose this signifies the end of our friendship….Sorry…But…
Just.this.once. I’ll tell you my story anyway, complete with the rest of the weird encounters that went on the very night before. And how in the hell I ended up having a one night scandal…with a bag of fries.
They made me do it.
I swear I didn’t want to go.
But dammit all, I went.
To The Stumble Inn.
What’s the Stumble Inn?
Oh you know, just a bar, casually ranked as the 23rd douchiest bar in New York City. Don’t believe me?
There we were.
At The Stumble Inn
Ready to brave the peculiar characters we always seemed to encounter every.time. we decided to…stumble inn…
We shimmied up to the bar, invested in a pitcher or 2, generously poured them into each cup and turned around to take a cheers
I was alarmed by a violent thrusting >> of a man who made an unwarranted appearance from behind.
I turned around immediately ready to put a face to the thrust who caused my bud light to spill onto my shirt instead of into my soul.
“Oh yeah you know baby I wa jus gonna ask if u wanna dance or sumthin.”
“Ohhh you were asking to dance. See, because at first I thought you were just humping strangers at random and I was all confused. Anyway, that was my bad.”
“…Yeah…I gues…you wanna dance or wut?”
We swiftly made our way to the latter side of the bar spotting a herd of bud-light goggle appropriate men along the way. En route, I somehow suffered from severe tunnel vision and didn’t notice until I had completed my journey that I lost not 1 – but- both– friends along the way. ABORT! ABORT! No way was I going to approach this semi-okay looking herd of questionable men sola.
I made a swift
t u r
And searched for my friends in a complete panic. I noticed Harper across the way conversing with the man who inexplicably wanted to dance just a few moments prior whilst Meg was on the latter side of the bar…seemingly…falling in love. As I approached more closely I could hear her reciting endearing booze-influenced things such as LOVE YOU BITCH with a man who just so happened to be named…Wolfgang…And taking couple-defining photos such as this:
Swiftly realizing my friends were tousling in the throws of bar-side romance, I decided I myself would give the next lad who approached a fleeting chance.
Hello Charlie Bags.
Okay fine his name wasn’t Charlie Bags. It’s just Charlie. But it just felt right when I typed it out. Anyway. Charlie was a nice lad sporting a black sport coat, striped scarf and something else that I had…yet to see. We exchanged banter about the sheila doing the robot in the corner and lightly conversed about the overpriced burgers 8 blocks down the way and naturally ended up on the inevitable topic of “So like what do you do?”
He told me he used to be that guy, you know that pushes carts at the grocery store and then he like, moved his way up and now? Well, you know that grocery store Fairway not so far from here?
“Well I’ve moved my way up to manager and now Olive…well…I’m living the dream.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
Well…I guess the only way to explain my passion is to show you this…
Cue in the shirt lift.
After blacking out with shock, snapping a wildly inappropriate amount of photos and laughing entirely too loud, he told me that he had an even better picture that he could send me from his mobile device.
PERFECT CHARLIE BAGS THANK YOU.
And it really wasn’t until I mass texted that picture to all of my friends near and far that I realized that the transaction that just occurred between Charlie and I inadvertently meant that I had accidentally exchanged contact information with the local grocer, making myself available for all of his future texting needs. I’ll elaborate shortly…
Meg received my inexplicable picture text from the latter side of the bar. She and Wolfgang departed from their honeymoon and swiftly approached my side, partook in the wild laughter that had never really stopped and made an executive decision that it was indeed, time to go.
Wolfgang, Meg and I stumbled out safely dropping Meg home along the way as Wolfgang ever so kindly escorted me to my corner. We bid adieu and I v e r y s l o w l y walked towards my door peering casually over my shoulder and watched as Wolfgang became
I bolted back around the corner and bee-lined straight to the nearest 7-11. FREEDOM. I was on a mission for snacks. And I was on a mission now. I had only but the classiest impression to make in Wolfgang’s presence but now? Well now he’s nowhere to be found and my beloved affinity for carbs was ready to be unleashed.
I threw open the doors of the local 711
And immediately echoed upon my entrance
“WHERE ARE THE HOT FRIES”
The night shift employees were only but minorly startled by the small wasian girl in the doorway. Chen, the cashier, informed me that he wasn’t sure if they had anymore to which I responded
THIS IS AN OUTRAGE. CHECK THE BACK.
And check the back they did. 8 stacks of lays chips later, they discovered
One Singular Bag Of Hot Fries.
And he was going back, with me.
I sprinted back around the very corner I had so desperately taken a turn on. Flew up my stairs into my bed and laid in the pitch darkness in utter and sheer happiness.
Twas Charlie Bags.
Now, I don’t have an iPhone, and before you get all weird about it, I will tell you that I’m getting one rather soon. So then I’ll also tell you that I was a few days shy of being able to screen shot my conversation. So…you’re just going to have to trust me like you trust Aladdin
On the accuracy of this conversation that I’ve taken entirely too much time to type out. Thanks.
“Olive Whye did you leave this place sucksss”
“Yeah that’s why I left.”
“Ya but what is better. You goin to Izzy’s?”
“What is an Izzy”
“Also Wolfgang told me you were tired, and that you were also a terrible person.”
“Oh. I actually didn’t talk to Wolfgang at all but ok do you want to get food?”
“Can’t. Eating hot fries in my bed” (side note: please don’t get too turned on by me)
“Firemen can’t be trusted to drive. Have a gr8t night.”
And it really wasn’t until Harper walked in my room the next morning (to explain her casual disappearance from the night before) and accidentally walked in on me spooning my bag of hot fries that I realized, between the dancing man, local grocer and Wolfgang, I had indeed made the right choice.