Hours before departing to New York City we learned a few people in our party would not be joining us. As a result, Sleepless and I ended up staying in a different hotel but still packing and donning (with the complimentary animal print robes) our dickies.
In many ways, it was a relief to not stay at the Yale Club – full of collars, old men and rules. In fact, as we returned Standard Time there after one of our evenings out she informed us, “This place is so stuffy.” It was, in fact, quite stuffy. After buzzing the doorman for entry (midnight curfew was clearly violated) it was apparent he was not pleased. No shoes (she ditched them in Times Square), no collared shirt, Standard Time was lucky she got service.
Not wanting to let the stuffiness get in the way of a good time, we continued on with our adventures in the city. A little less like Carrie and the girls in Sex in the City and a little more like Tony Manero in Saturday Night Fever on a date with Hannah Horvath and the Girls. After making a ‘reserved’ room our dance floor in Manhattan, we grabbed a kabab and hopped on the Brooklyn bound subway (Standard Time was still shoe free and this concerned several helpful hipsters) for more late night adventures.
Along our way, I was asked if I had ever been told that I look like Bethenny Frankel. “No,” was my response and then, not knowing who she was, I did some quick research. As I browsed through pictures of Bethenny I failed to see the resemblance until I saw the picture of her in a bikini – it appears we may have a similar mole.
I shared this story with barefoot Standard Time and she told me, “Bethenny Frankel. No! We’re not the Real Housewives of NYC. We’re the Unreal Housewives of NYC.” She may be on to something and if we hadn’t opted to take a cab home that night there is a good chance we might have been the next cast of Jersey Shore.