Last week I had to go to our San Francisco office for a few meetings. I flew up Thursday morning, had a hellish morning commute (read: got stopped for trying to carry a butterknife through airport security (?)), spent four hours in ONE meeting, tried to catch up on work, and felt like death by 6p.
I left the office around 630p and walked to Baller Hotel the firm was paying for me to stay at. I checked in, went up to my room and decided it had been SUCH a long day that I was going to go ahead and use my dinner allowance of $50 on drinks instead of an actual meal. Naturally I wanted to maximize the value of my dollar, so I googled ‘dive bar’ and found a homely pub less than two blocks from Baller Hotel. Awesome.
I walked into the dive and it was totally my scene: old Irish bartenders, cheap booze, yuppie after work crowd, ThNF on the tv’s… time to decompress from my day. Three beers in (and no food, mind you) I was feeling pretty good.
I got bored being solo at the bar and decided [drunk] texting Toga Teddy was a good idea. He was unresponsive so I moved on to Marine Jeff (Shocker!) He was slightly responsive, but I decided move on to Ryan because I wanted to Tweet but still don’t really know how. I texted him things he should Tweet for me:
I decided to give Ryan a break from my 11texts I was sending him at a time and figured I should probably wrap up at the bar and head back to my hotel. It was as if the bar gods would not allow it, so they sent two friendly older men to sit next to me and keep me there.
These were successful (slightly skeezy) older men, probably in their early 40’s. Greeeeeat. Before I could walk away, they offered to buy me a drink. I politely declined, but Friendly Drunk Sarah continued conversation. They asked if I had ever tried Fernet (their drink of choice) and offered to buy me a drink for the second time. My drunken self became all too curious as to what exactly this new liqueur was and I let the men buy me a shot, paired with a Ginger Ale chaser.
THE BAR GODS HAVE OPENED THE GATES TO HEAVEN! This drink was AMAAAAAAAAAAAZING. (famous last words (also learned through that Wikipedia article that it is 45% alcohol).
As I shared a [few more] drink[s] with these two men, I learned that one of them is Lebanese (with an awesome accent) and owns a fancy pants jewelry store downtown (I googled it later and there are articles in the NY Times about this man… what??). The other is a partner at some big law firm. They met 10+ years ago when Lawyer came to Jeweler to buy an engagement ring for his [now ex-]wife. Story goes that Lawyer designed the ring and picked the stone, and Jeweler said in his Lebanese accent “No! You are not ready for this stone.” Lawyer, being very lawyer-esque, would not take no for an answer and came back weekly for the next five months until Jeweler would allow him to purchase the ring… Soup Nazi much? They have been best friends ever since.
The more I got to know these men, the more fun I was having… they had some crazy stories! My phone started ringing and it was Marine Jeff calling in response to my texts (I still don’t have his number saved btw… but I definitely recognize his area code now) … I looked at my phone and Partner asked if it was my boyfriend. Nope. He asked if he could pick it up and talk to him. Absolutely. Partner answered the phone with a ridiculous accent and bantered with Marine Jeff for a few minutes, which then turned into Partner using my phone for prank calls… aaaahahaha when was the last time you did prank calls!? It was hilarious. Toga Teddy was not as amused as we were (explained/apologized for it later), so the fun ended there. Well, almost.
Partner took his phone and stepped outside the bar to make a call. I continued polite banter with Jeweler and drank more Fermet. When Partner came back in from his call he said… “Alright Sarah, when you go back to Baller Hotel, go to the front desk and say ‘I’ve been informed that my room has been changed.’ Whaaaaaaat??
Eventually the men walked me back to Baller Hotel, and were on their way. I walked up to the desk and said exactly what I had rehearsed with Partner. The concierge apologized profusely for the inconvenience and hoped that this change would accommodate me better, as he handed me a key to Floor 14. There were sixteen floors at this hotel.. Floor 16 was a penthouse, not sure about Floor 15… and I was now being moved from Floor 4 to Floor 14. BAAAAALLLERRRRR!!!!!
That’s the last thing I remember.
The next thing I remember is waking up freezing cold, because I was completely naked passed out on top of the king size bed. Oh and also because the entire wall that opens up to a patio was wide open and the storm of the year was happening at that moment. Whhhaaaattttt is going on??? I went to look at my phone and see what time it was, but my phone was dead. Shit… that was supposed to be my alarm. Double shit… I had left my charger in the 4th floor room. I called the hotel operator and asked what time is was… 420a. I also asked to schedule a wake-up call for 7a. I closed the patio doors and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in fear that I was going to have to explain an $800 hotel room charge to my 43980432 bosses.
As I kept tossing and turning I noticed daylight was getting brighter and brighter. I still had no idea what time it was, so I tried turning on my phone… it worked! Oh and it was 745AM. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. I scrambled to get all my stuff together for my meetings and for the first time realized how incredible this hotel room actually was… the ginormous patio attached to my room overlooked the SF bay and was surrounded by other really awesome buildings. Well done, Partner! I was out of my room by 830a and in the office by 840. Highfive, self!
High-five revoked at 10a when Marine Jeff texted me asking if I got a good night’s sleep in my awesome hotel room. I’m sorry, what? How did he know that I had an awesome hotel room? Apparently I called him when I got to the hotel room and told him all about it. He informed me that I was so excited I took off all my clothes, ran to the balcony naked and yelled ‘I CAN SEE ALCATRAZ’ while also proclaiming my love for America. I responded to his text with a simple ‘I hate you.’ and his response was ‘that’s not what you said last night’ uggggggggh. The rest of the details will have to remain undisclosed (it’s not even half as bad as you think, I just feel like I’ve already disclosed way too much), but it’s right on par with the I Love You… Physically drunk dial. Apparently I really love Alcatraz.