Lacey & John Story #4: Stairway to Heaven

I admit I've been stumped this morning.  John's suggestions were the Case of the Curious Chili Incident and the Infamous Ongoing Hot Tub Debate...both of which were shot down, because they are more gross than funny...and I don't want BlogLand to be completely scared by me.  I got a rep to protect. 


I've given it some thought and I think our New York Trip circa New Year's 2008 is a pretty good one.  

 stolen from Life with the Stegalls..their first post

It was John and I's first big trip together, in which we crashed the Stegall's new pad three days after their return from their honeymoon.  We were young enough where stuff like that didn't faze you.  John and George had spent minimal time together and bonded as we all three emerged from cabs at the same time and John assisted in toting George's new 1000 inch screen flat screen up 9 flights of stairs.  I think all men bond over their love of huge TVs.


We went to the rooftop bar at the Gansevoort one night and did the fancy thing by ordering the $200 bottles complete with little booth to sit down in.  I actually stumbled across a picture of our "spread" last night.  We thought we were so swank-- haha!  We all tried to finish what we had bought, but it was beginning to take a toll on us.  We finally decide to throw in the towel, because we had nothing left, but John was not going to leave behind our highly over priced vodka that was not quite empty.  He tucked it into his new leather jacket he'd been gifted with at Christmas, and the four of us peaced out down the elevator.  So far so good.

I finally start to notice that John is splashing the vodka all over his new jacket.  Uh oh.  I try to assist, tell him to watch what's he is doing, but it's fairly useless, and we didn't have a top for the vodka.  We pile into a cab and begin our trek towards the Upper East Side when John starts to turn a little green.  You don't get the luxury of make messes in NYC cabs.  George quickly got the cab to pull over and John and I pile out to handle life, so to say.  I tell George I got it, go on ahead, and we'll catch up once we get some air.  Brittany scribbles their address on my palm and they carry on.  It's just me and my vodka covered boo at this point.  We get it together and I'm looking around having NO earthly idea where we are, but buzzed enough to not be too concerned about it, and hail a cab.  I give out our address, and know I'm at the mercy of the cab driver who is most likely going to take the long way and I'm poking John in the ribs, who is now on screensaver mode.  I'm digging in his pockets to get cash to pay for what was I was sure was going to be a ridiculous fare.  My accent alone would ensure that.  

We finally pull up to Britt and George's building...and I stare up at the 9 story staircase.  No elevator.  No way in HELL.  I dialed Britt and George several times to no avail.  I'm on my own.  I look from John... to the stairwell... and back to John again.  I can't leave him the mail room, sadly.  I get his arm and toss it over my shoulder and grasp his waist, and in my staggering 4 in heels, we began our journey.  I half drug/carried/lifted/pulled John up those 9 flights of stairs, pausing on each level to catch my breath.  It was probably a 20 minute ordeal in which I arrived in a full sweat, in January in New York, at our friends door, fully spent and defeated.  I weakly knocked on the door, which thankfully George heard although he never heard his cell, silently wondering just what I was getting into...

The End.

Epilouge:  We did get all the stains out of the jacket and John awoke the next morning in his boxers and button down shirt wondering what all had gone down and where the vodka was.  *Insert evil glare from Lacey, who knew that John was really only saved by that kind hearted trip to Tiffany's =)