A few months ago when my friend Amy told me she'd be visiting South in March and asked if we were free for dinner I agreed immediately. I mean, her blog is hilarious and the first time we met we shared a cab to dinner and when the driver tried to drive us to the middle of nowhere, she let him have it. It was exhilarating. I couldn't wait to get together again and to meet her husband, Josh. She also provides a good listening ear when breastfeeding goes horribly wrong, but that's a story for another day.
So we set a date and time and then I immediately commenced freaking out. Where does one take out of town guests who are from an actual city and who have traveled all over the world? I mean, my recent eating out experience is currently limited to drive-thrus and Chinese take-out, but those didn't seem festive enough. I settled on one of my favorites that was near-ish their hotel and made the reservation.
On the appointed night I threw on my "going out" dress, a maternity LBD I got for ten bucks at a consignment store, while James screamed from his bouncer, Rossby barked like an idiot, and Charlie and Wes fought over the chair closest to the TV. My sister walked into the middle of that and quickly took charge of making dinner for all the kids so I could run around and make bottles and nurse the baby and fret about my nine-second "hairstyle". I've never been so happy to back that giant car out of the garage and leave the house.
Dinner was great. There was guacamole and salsa and beer and lots of stories about the combined six kids represented at the table. And also about how to kill rats in your alley (Amy) and how to rid your house of scorpions (Ryan). So, you know, it was educational.
After a luxuriously long time spent relaxing at the table, free from little hands pulling on my shirt sleeves and little mouths licking the salt shakers, the Snarky's invited us to go to a little party at a hotel with them. I immediately gave my regrets and blamed the babysitter, which is what you do when you don't want to tell your cool friends how bad you're jonesing for some flannel pants and a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Then I looked at Ryan, whose eyes were wide with excitement.
"Can you text your sister and see what time she wants us back?" he blurted out, breathlessly.
I did. She said to go out and have fun and she'd crash on our couch. Once I got over the change in plans (oldest child alert!), I was a little giddy at the prospect of behaving like an adult for more than two consecutive hours. The four of us loaded into our big gold minivan and after a series of wrong turns, wound up finding a free parking spot a block from the W Hotel, where we were going. It was meant to be, in other words.
I had no clue where we were going or what we were doing, but I followed Josh through the crowded lobby where he waved a VIP badge at a bouncer, who moved a little velvet rope so we could go through, up a flight of stairs, down a long hallway, and out onto a terrace no bigger than a tennis court with a stage at one end, a bar at the other, and a whole bunch of people. The Snarky's met up with their friend, who pressed a huge stack of free drink tickets into Amy's hand. She disappeared and returned with beer for everyone just as the next band was starting to set up.
It was these guys and they were awesome:
The Snarky's are awesome. The night was memorable and unexpected and FUN (so much fun). It was great. We're still talking about it and how we need to have fun more often, preferably in a crowded setting with a loud, thumpy electronic band playing live. Yes, that would be perfect. I'd go right now if I could.