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February 01, 2012

This is the ninth edition of Drunk Girl/High Guy Cultural Reviews wherein Sarah gets really drunk, Noah gets really high and then they go to an event and write about their vastly different experiences. Here, they attempt to watch an NFL playoff game at a sports bar.

This is the ninth edition of Drunk Girl/High Guy Cultural Reviews wherein Sarah gets really drunk, Noah gets really high and then they go to an event and write about their vastly different experiences. You can read more of Sarah's writing on her blog and more of Noah's writing on his blog. Here, they attempt to watch an NFL playoff game at a sports bar.



How We Decided To Go

Sarah: I’m back in New York for six weeks on a tiny job. I would tell you what it is, but since it does not involve space travel, any type of cake (although we did have a pie in the office one day), or the Iditarod, who cares. But it’s great to be back in NYC during January and February, widely known to be the best months to be here. You know how everyone always says, “Come to New York after the holidays and before the Spring!” You don’t know that because no one says that. Point being, it’s really fucking freezing. So, we were going to go to The Aqueduct Racino (combination race track and casino) to see the horses run their races, but oh my God, the day we chose was biting, soul-stealing cold.

Either way, Noah wasn’t up at noon and we were supposed to meet at one. When he finally did rise, he live texted me his progress from getting up to getting in the shower. Then, literally one minute after getting a text from him, I got this email:

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I called him. Noah answered, “It was under a piece of paper!” This was the final clue that we were in even less of a position that we normally are to get on public transportation for an hour and go to South Ozone Park (scary name) and watch horses. So we decided to watch football! Like Americans! Specifically, Giants vs. Packers, which is, like, double American.

Oh, one thing I’ll tell you about my work: We made up a game called Soy Hole. It’s where you try to toss a packet of soy sauce into a plastic cup from an unspecified distance. It requires skill and dexterity.

Noah: I feel it is necessary now to explain my morning routine. I set my alarm for two hours before I have to be wherever it is I am going. If I’m waking up for something important, I hit my snooze button for half an hour and then get up and go. If, however, I am doing something like GETTING HIGH TO GO SEE A HORSE RACE, I hit the snooze button for however the fuck long I want and then get ready at a leisurely pace. Sometimes there is a point during that process during which I lose my phone under a piece of paper. So that’s how that works.

Now let me explain how Drunk Girl / High Guy works. Every outing is basically a game of chicken between Sarah and me. We both wake up in the morning, realizing that the last thing we want to do is get dangerously un-sober and go to a thing we would never go to in real life.  We then talk on the phone about four times over the course of an hour subtly laying down the groundwork for a possible cancellation. “It’s really cold out there!” one of us will say. Or maybe we’ll go with “Are we even sure the trains are running today?” Things like that. We then both wait for the other person to go, “Ah, fuck it. We’ll do it next week.” Sometimes that happens! It’s the best when that happens. But most of the time it does not. This time, we got through all four phone conversations without either of us making the other one cancel. Goddamnit. So, I packed up my things and headed over to the apartment where Sarah is staying.

When I got there, it became clear that there was still hope for a cancellation. We kept asking each other if we would have to sit outside and how long the train ride would take. Finally, Sarah said, “I really don’t want to go!” It was an awesome moment. I had won. I had made her cancel. I was in the clear, and we could just hang out and not do a Drunk Girl / High Guy. 

But then I made the mistake of going for the bonus points. I said, “Well the football playoffs are going on. We could go to a sports bar for DGHG.” 

I thought for sure she’d say, “Go fuck yourself, Garfinkel,” and then I would be up by two! 

Instead she was like, “That’s PERFECT!” and suggested we go to a shitty sports bar. I was so upset.


How Sarah Got Drunk

I drank wine while we watched Lana Del Rey’s Saturday Night Live performance from the night before. I’m sure everyone is aware of that performance. Or am I sure? I’m sure a lot of people talked about it, but by “people” I mean like the five websites I go to and the six friends I talked to about it. I’m just going to assume that everyone knows what I’m talking about.

Anyway, my favorite parts about LDR's performance were actually the headlines the next day shrieking, “Celebrities SLAM Lana Del Rey’s SNL Performance on Twitter,” and then the two celebrities that they cited were Juliette Lewis and Eliza Dushku. You know, the most famous of the celebrities. Listen, I’m not saying that they AREN’T celebs, Juliette Lewis was featured in a VERY popular Internet video about shit girls say (LOL!) and Eliza Dushku was on a VERY POPULAR Joss Whedon show that was not Buffy, and always displays her fabulous rack like a champ. And then professional newsman Brian Williams put on his Mean Girls Skirt and joined in the fray, albeit somewhat unintentionally? Dear God. I’m not saying that LDR’s performance was good. At all. I got severe Second Hand Embarrassment from it and had to turn it off about a minute into “Video Games” and I didn’t have the heart to watch “Blue Jeans.” This is me attempting to watch it:

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And this is Noah watching it

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Yikes!! Turn it off!

However, it was difficult for me to watch because I’m a big fan. Have you seen the “Born To Die” video? It’s really really good! There are tigers in it! Tigers! It’s been a couple of weeks since then, so I guess everyone has moved on, thank goodness, because I was getting Secondhand Embarrassment for all of us. What a nerdy controversy for people to get so riled up and mean about. The only thing worse than mean people (they suck!) are mean nerds. Mean nerds and dork sex are my two least favorite things, give or take thirty other things. 

Then we started to watch football. Did you know that Noah secretly knows about football? KNoah Knows Football. I did not No-ah that. So he was all into it, but the only part where I was interested was when at half time they gave out awards to little kids and one of them was named Jadon, like what I call Noah’s back up weed dealers. But his name is spelled differently than how I spell it (which is a homage to Jayden Smith, The Karate Kid), which I think is nice, because he’s an award winning kid athlete, not a dealer. It’s a necessary distinction to make.


Also, people be dressing crazy at football games! I love it! Look, a Witch!



How Noah Got High

This is how little Sarah knows or cares about football. She knows and cares so little about football that in comparison to her I know and care A LOT about football. She would ask, “What are they doing?!”

So, I’d say, “Well, it’s the fourth down, and they’re still in their own territory with eight yards to go before a first down. So, they’re going to punt.” And Sarah’s mind would suddenly be BLOWN.

“You love football!!!!” she would yell while gulping down another glass of wine. In real life, my knowledge of football is limited to a few facts that can just barely get me through a brief conversatoin with a guy I might meet at a friend-of-a-friend's party. My most used tactic is to reference Al Del Grecco, who was the kicker for the Houston Oilers in 1996. Then, whomever I'm talking to thinks I’m a football genius when, in fact, that is just the one name I remember from the one time I went to a Oilers game as a child in Houston, Texas.

Anyway, I got high with a fake metal cigarette as we walked to a bar.


Getting There

Sarah: We decided to go to a popular Packer’s bar in the West Village called Kettle of Fish. We wanted to walk down there, but I couldn’t find my hat so Noah, like a TRUE GENTLEMAN, lent me his ear muffs. Guys, have you tried ear muffs? They are a revelation. They do so much work with so much less fabric. They are amazing. Ear Muffs 4 Lyf! I talked about how awesome ear muffs are for the majority of the walk down there. Noah cut me off by asking me, “Do your teeth ever get cold?” and then decided to treat me with some acapella Counting Crows, “A Long December” and “Hanging Around.” Just the hits.

Despite my very effective ear muffs, we had to take a detour through Chelsea Market to warm up. My favorite part of Chelsea Market is the waterfall that looks like it’s from the set of Goonies.


Noah: This was the most manly I have ever felt during a Drunk Girl/High Guy. I had chivalrously given Sarah ear muffs AND I was explaining football moves. Moves? Plays. Football plays. I wrote a play about football? I’ve lost my train of thought here. 


The Game

Sarah:  We got to the Packers bar and it was very crowded. One could even say it was PACKED. The game had already started and I think people start arriving like the night before to be able to watch the game there. We walked up to the door and the lady bouncer who was clearly born and raised in Green Bay just shook her head at us silently. We started to back away then she said, “...Wait.” So we waited. And she paused for like fifteen seconds, which is a very long time, especially if you’re drunk and feel sort of dumb for trying to get into the most popular Packers bar on a very big game day. But then she spoke, not looking at us, but gazing at some unspecified point in the distance, “People have said that Stonewall is good...or Duplex. Or Cubbyhole.“ I grabbed Noah by the coat sleeve as he was like, “Let’s try those places!” And as I led him away I explained that all the places she named are noted gay bars, like, those bars are as famous for being gay as the Packers bar is as famous for being a Packers bar. (Very gay, very Packers).

I have to say,  I regret the Executive Decision that I made not to go to a gay bar to watch a football game. That was a bad call on my part. I said that we should try a Giants bar that would be full of straight out of college frat dudes. Hind sight is 20/20 or whatever.

We got to Riviera, the Giants bar, and, as predicted, it was full of kids right out of college. Lots of hooded sweatshirts and backwards hats. The type of dudes who look at me and honestly don’t understand why the fuck I would wear shorts with tights. And fair enough. It’s winter, what AM doing? I’ll tell you: I don’t like pants. I don’t like wearing them. I consider a legging a pant (I said it!) and in cold weather I will wear double tights and shorts. I will not apologize for this. I am positively LDR-esque in my controversial non pant wearing. This is all well and good at the places I normally hang out, but it’s hilarious walking into a fratty bar and being regarded as an autistic dresser. Fortunately, did you know that alcohol cures uncomfortable situations? It does.

I had, I have to say, a genius brainwave, and ordered a White Russian. I think I impressed the barkeep. Sort of like a Disaronno situation.

White Russians are delicious. Watching football at a crowded bar full of enthusiastic fans, drinking off their hangovers on a Sunday, is really fun. Watching Noah destroy a plate of wings was also very fun. I asked Noah what position he’d be if he played football and he said, “Maybe a kicker?” Way to aim high, Noah. Though I did appreciate his honesty.

Did you know that football games are eight hours long? They are. So we decided to switch locations and watch the rest of the game at a bar called The Rusty Knot, which is right on the Hudson River in the West Village. Wind blasting off the river made for a cold walk, but I was half a bottle of wine and three White Russians deep PLUS ear muffs, so it was no biggie. Also, we stopped in a bodega that happened to sell football hats?

football hat.jpg

When we arrived at The Rusty Knot we immediately warmed up with some Pickle Back shots, which Noah calls “Nickle Back Shots.” I sort of watched more football, but was distracted by friends and drinking. Who won? Good question. No idea.

Noah: Guys. Come on. I know Stonewall is a gay bar. It’s the gay bar. I just didn’t hear the lady say “Stonewall.” But, now that I think about it, that lady telling us to go to Stonewall was maybe her not so subtle way of calling me gay. If I would have realized that’s what she was doing at the time, I would have been like, “Al Del Greco!” and then she would have been like, “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry. I’ve made a mistake. Come into the Packers bar, you having-sex-with-women person.”

That didn’t happen, though, so we went to the Giants bar and stood in a corner where we were very much in the way of the wait staff. As I weaved and bobbed to avoid waitresses, Sarah said, “Do you think I can have a White Russian?” I said yes because we were at a bar. I mean, it was a sports bar, so it was actually a  little weird to order a White Russian, but I didn’t care because, at the time, I didn’t think her drink order would affect me at all. I was wrong.

Sarah went up to the bar and ordered a White Russian. I happened to be standing behind her looking sheepish because I was high. Then, the bartender made eye contact with me and, in that moment, decided that I had made a girl order a White Russian for me because I was too much of a wuss to order one myself. And, I know what you’re thinking: “You were just high and there was no way he was actually thinking that. Why would he think that?” But I’m positive that’s what was happening. Sarah and I then waited by the bar for her drink. The bartender returned with the White Russian and handed it to Sarah. Then, Sarah, too drunk to realize she could just set the drink on the bar for a second, passed me the White Russian to free her hands up so she could pay. So, then, it fucking looked like she was also paying for a drink that I was too wussy to order. The guy told me all of that with his eyes. I’m sure of it. Or maybe he didn’t at all. I don’t know. I’m a high guy, not a doctor.

After that, I ate some chicken wings and we left. I remember no football things that happened. It was on a lot of TVs. I remember that much.

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But beyond that, I’ve got nothing for you. I think maybe one of the teams scored points or something.

We then left to go to another bar to see some friends. Crazy thing about this bar... they have this big button you can press if you want Jeff Goldblum to come to the bar. Or at least that’s what it looks like I was thinking at the time?


"I'll have a Jeff Goldblum, please." - Noah



Sarah: So, basically, granted, this wasn’t a crazy adventure. It was pretty much a bar crawl with football in the background. We’re going to the Aqueduct when it’s warmer. We’re DOING it. But, if I may, I would like to put out to the Universe/Internet my ideal Drunk Girl/High Guy scenario, which would be to have a night out with rapper Yelawolf. I am completely serious. Can anyone make that happen? I'm POSITIVE he’d have a really good time because I know he’s an alcohol, weed and FUN enthusiast. Me? I'd love it. So much. Noah? Noah doesn’t care if he has a good time or not, he’s so chill. So, yeah, if you know/are Yelawolf, shout me a holler. See? Holler? That’s “Slumerican” slang. We’ll come to you. I’ll just tell Noah we’re doing something else and then knock him out and he’ll wake up in Alabama. THINK ABOUT IT, YELAWOLF. 

Noah: Well, now, I’m at an airport very early in the morning. I’m so sleepy. What happened was Sarah wrote her Drunk Girl parts a day or two after the game, and I, being so chill, kept putting off finishing my part. The football outing seems like so long ago now. I feel like Al Del Greco might have still been in the league back when we did this FOOTBALLOLOLOL! Is Yelawolf like Beowulf? 

Follow Sarah on Twitter: @swalks

Follow Noah on Twitter: @noahgarfinkel