Monday, February 8, 2016

Ship Wrecked

Last Saturday night I went out to celebrate the not-40th birthday of one of my best friends. (I am lucky enough to have several.) Her husband thought it was her 40th and planned a beautiful dinner at The Bay House, which is the best restaurant in our very restaurant-worthy city, in my opinion.

It was not actually her 40th, so we celebrated her 39th and used this as a dress rehearsal for the real thing.

Her husband is Andy Hunter, executive chef of The Bay House, and this is the only, and I mean the only, place I like seafood or will try anything adventurous. I even eat oysters. Anyone who has dealt with my complicated appetite is amazed to hear that I would even sit at the same table as an oyster.

I ate all of that. I shared it but only because I had to.
I like raw tuna there (called something fancier) and I think that's very grown up of me.

So he's like a magician, really, making things I don't eat into things I love to eat.

We usually go with other friends of hers and then they become my friends. Also, it's on the water and has live entertainment and her husband arranges for us to have Hemingway-inspired drinks because we're book nerds. He took us outside and sabered the top off of a bottle of Veuve Clicquot which was pretty badass -- so the whole place is magical.

We stayed until the restaurant closed down and then went to a bar at the Ritz where some famous chefs who were in town for a famous wine festival were hanging out. By then we were loud and laughing often, and probably not as funny as we thought we were (but maybe...generally, we're pretty funny, we think.)

We were lured out with promises of Waffle House (always an indicator that the night has gone wrong, and that tomorrow will be regrettable) and at some point thought tattoos were a good idea but weren't organized enough to figure that out, thankfully.

We ended up back at their house and played Cards Against Humanity until 4am and laughed so hard that I lost my voice and my abs hurt for two days.

Or that could have been from the throwing up the next day.

Because although I (really) enjoy my occasional glass(es) of wine, I am not a big drinker. I rarely even reach buzzed. We were all a good bit beyond that.

Big Kid was concerned that he could catch whatever terrible illness I had, and felt bad that I was sick again after I had just recovered from an ear infection.

"Uh, yeah, no, don't worry about it. You won't catch it. I just...maybe stayed up too late last night and had all of that food and stuff while celebrating..."

"Ah, you got wrecked. I see."

I didn't realize he had a concept of wrecked. Or even that kids these days call it "wrecked."

"Wrecked?! No! No! I did not get wrecked. I was just up playing a game really late. And maybe had, like, 2 or 3 glasses of champagne." And some cocktails and a beer but there was no need to elaborate. "This isn't fun, see? When you're a grown up, just have, like, one glass of champagne and always get enough sleep."

He smirked at me, but I was too sick to care.

I texted my friend to see if she was alright. She was not, she was certain she was at death's door and would not survive the day.

And yet within 5 minutes we were texting back and forth about the wonders of the size of the ocean, about all of the undiscovered creatures and treasures that could be down there and about how James Cameron is kind of a dick.

Being a grown-up is so much fun when you are doing it with the right people in the right places. I feel like I am pretty good at that part of this whole thing, it's really just the insurance/taxes/bills/chores part that needs improvement.

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