Now 30 years and two days old, I am happy to report that I emerged from Friday night's birthday bash alive. Barely.
When I woke up Saturday at 1:30 p.m., shirtless but with jeans on, all I could smell was hot dogs. Four hours later, after a shower and more sleep, I was informed why.
Apparently (I have no memory of this), between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m., after downing what I would estimate were a dozen shots and at least as many beers, I was trying to become the hot dog king of New York by downing not two, not four, not six, but eight hot dogs at Gray's Papaya at 72 Street and Amsterdam. These are actual quotes from an IM conversation with one of the six of my friends who witnessed this:
"That was a really funny time in Gray's, man. I wish I had it on video."
"... then this group of five black dudes came in and bought you two more and challenged you to eat them. We were screaming and singing at the top of our lungs while you pasted the two dogs."
"I can't remember what we were singing, but the whole place was going nuts."
"No kidding, we were in Gray's for about 45 minutes to an hour."
Later on Saturday, while watching the Roy Jones Jr. fight, another buddy told me I looked like a boxer, out on his feet and with the black dudes rubbing my shoulders and cheering me on. I guess some of them were betting on whether I could do it. God I wish I'd seen it.
We closed up Yogi's at 4 a.m., and apparently (again, no recollection), we were out on the sidewalk when I said, "Wait, I forgot something." I then went back inside to ask the bartender if she'd sleep with me. I have no idea who was working. I hope she was good looking.
Previous to that, 25 people came out to get me ass-wasted at Coyote Ugly, where most of my 23 pictures of the night were taken and which again proved to be the most bankable, good-time place in New York. Thanks to bartenders Melissa, Brandi and Kimmy.

Finally, and in all sincerity, I want to thank all my friends who came out Friday night and all the people from around the country who e-mailed and posted birthday wishes. It meant a lot.
Oh, and I never barfed. And I have four bonus pictures that aren't suitable for Webshots or viewing at work. E-mail me if you wanna see them.
All that and no action? Pfffft.
Not that, with "a dozen shots and at least as many beers", you would have been able to handle it....
Posted by lucy at March 2, 2003 2:32 AM