Monday, October 24, 2005

You Don't Want No Drama

Just returned on Saturday from Chicago. Had a fantastic time! On Thurs night went to Signature Room with some friends and got hit on by sleazy gold-jewelry wearing old man from Houston. (He was all, Hey ladies! I’m from Houston! Well that don’t mean much to this crowd, except then I suddenly remembered our White Sox were playing their Astros in the World Series. (2-0, ya’ll!!!) He proceeded to awkwardly hover at our table for a few minutes, completely interrupting our conversation, before walking off. Thanks for the awkward moments, dude.)

On Friday I walked around Michigan Avenue for a few hours. I was so excited to go to H&M again now that they’re carrying Karl Lagerfeld designs, but when did H&M get so crappy and expensive? I guess they’re trying to go designer but the materials they use are of inferior quality and the tailor-work is so shoddy. I was disappointed – I remember H&M being nice, kind of trendy stuff you didn’t have to pay too much for.

Later I went to Lincoln Park to see my cousin’s brand spankin’ new salon she just opened a few weeks ago. It was a nice place, but turned out to be a Merle Norman cosmetics, of all things. Anyway, my cousin is hands down the best threader I’ve ever had, and she’s the only place in LP or downtown that does it. (Besides Carson Pirie Scott, if you don’t mind paying friggin’ $50). So I’m excited for her. It’s a really fun neighborhood too, I can’t wait til I move back to Chicago and get to see her every week.

My friend Nikki was returning from a business trip and we had planned to go to a poker party together but her flight ended up being delayed by 4 hours so I went out with G and some of her friends from LA. I love the brown but what is with all the gd DRAMA? I’m not a regular on the desi party circuit but without fail at EVERY SINGLE desi party I’ve ever been to, there is always some retarded-ass drama going down. The girls seem to handle it by getting drunk and weepy while the guys get all aggressive. (Hence the well-known adage, Every desi party ends in a fight. Yah. No shit.)

I’m all for a good healthy drunken catharsis once in a while but how do you have the energy for this shit? So on Fri the retardosity seemed to start the minute we walked in the door at the pre-party. There was heated argument about where to go, then heated argument about how to get there. Drunken logistics coordination ad nauseum for the next hour. (Sometimes I get the sense that people aren’t really that drunk, they just down a beer and use it as an excuse to get all pushy and stupid.) Two guys from the ‘burbs INSISTED on driving there (which was completely dumb, there’s no where to park downtown on a Saturday night), and of course they had been drinking so the girls were all concerned and motherly. Of course, when the car later turned out to be a Benz SUV I was thinking, you jerks aren’t opposed to taking cabs. You just wanted to show off your daddy’s car. (Ok, I guess that’s a little bitchy on my part. But actually it’s not because it’s so DAMN TRUE.)

We finally left one club to go to another one and 5 of us girls smashed in to the back seat of a cab. Two of the girls were having some kind of argument about some dude at the previous club. I heard snippets of the conversation (something about a stolen iPod?), but both girls kept shrieking, “LISTEN TO ME!! I’M SOBER!!!” I don’t know the exact math but isn’t the frequency at which you insist sobriety inversely proportional to the actual level of sobriety? Then one of the girls burst into tears and the other one got on the phone, presumably with the drunk SUV guys. (Meanwhile G and I are looking at each other like What the hell is wrong with these people?)

Anyway, we met up with SUV guys at a different lounge, but they were all pissed because for some reason the bouncer hadn’t let them in. (Their attitude about it reminded me of this guy I saw at The Apartment last year. The bouncer had pulled his fake and he reacted with a hissy fit culminating in him stomping off screaming, “I make more money in a year than you’ll ever have in a lifetime, dude! I don’t give a fuck!” Something tells me this IS NOT the way to get what you want out of people, yo.)

Anyway, all the girls except G and I piled into the SUV. He’d been drinking and besides, he didn’t really seem to know his way around the city. So it was the two of us and some random dude, whom I referred to in my head as THE MOST BORING GUY I’VE EVER MET. We hop into a cab and he pulls out his Blackberry and tries to coordinate our next stop with the drunk ass girls in the SUV, which was as productive and fruitful as you might imagine. We’re trying to decide where to meet at Rush and Division, and one placed is nixed because Boring Guy apparently punched a bouncer in the face there. (What the fuck? Were you RAISED IN A BARN? I mean, I know your OVERPRIVILEGED ASS must have had it rough growing up in UPPER MIDDLE CLASS SUBURBIA but try to control your rage.)

Everyone finally settles on another place, and we get there first and hop out. I’m like, the night’s still young, let’s go to that dive bar down the street and get wasted, fuck the others. But BG heard drunk girl crying (not sure why this was surprising) on the phone and G wants to make sure she’s OK. So we wait. And wait. And wait. We finally go inside because all 3 of us had to use the bathroom and then Boring Guy just stands around by the door waiting for the others. It’s a fun place and G and I are kind of getting into it, buying beers and having fun, like, hell, let’s just make the most of this. BG is SO NOT INTO IT and is literally just standing there with his arms crossed like something crawled up his ass and died. (I was a little offended by this – studying 9 hours a day for the past few years sucked away a lot of my social skills but I was working on a good buzz and having fun.) Anyway, more drunken shouting per telephone, until finally BG I guess just gives up because all of a sudden he announces, I’m going home, g’night, and marches out of there. (True gentleman, that BG.)

G and I are like woo hoo! And we went to the dance floor upstairs. Then the night ended as many of our Rush and Division nights do, with a 4 AM trip to McDonalds and a bad movie. Later that night she heard from her friend, who cheerily announced that they had driven to the suburbs much earlier and were all going to bed. (I’d have been pissed as hell if one of my girls did this to me but G seemed OK.)

The moral of the story is, sometimes my group of friends has drama but nothing to that degree of obnoxious. So I love my friends and their non-dramatic selves.

G wondered why they had so much drama while we didn’t, and were their friendships stronger because they were tested? That was an interesting thought: I mentioned that we have a lot of the same drama-inducing circumstances: we have men in our lives, we have conflict with people around us from time to time, we do stupid things when we’re drunk…so how does that add up to drama for some circles, and no drama for us? She thought a huge part of it was because we just don’t have time for it. On most of your clerkships you only get one day off a week, so you’ve only got that one night to go out, and you just want to see your friends and have fun. There’s no TIME the next day for damage control – you have to wake up, shower, and go study. As far as the “no time for drama” thing, I agree: I’ve noticed that amongst my peers you either let the conflict go or you let the friend go. Most of the time we just let the conflict go.

Could their friendships really be stronger because they were tested? I don’t know if making a mountain out of a molehill is a legitimate “test” of a friendship.

Oh well. Tomorrow I’ll have an enthralling piece on Iowa traffic.

3 comments:

Ang said...

ha ha ha. I laughed the whole way through. I have never been to an adult desi party, so I shall live vicariously through you.

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