El Toro to Couture

Part I

When I look back on where I was a year ago today, my life felt so, so… bland. I was probably lying on the couch in my grandmother’s home in Virginia half way through a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, wallowing in the fact that I was about to turn 23, had just been prescribed accutane for a bout of horrid acne and had about as much direction as the Lifetime original movie I was watching. To say the least, I felt awful. One year later its Monday morning and I am laying awake reflecting on the weekend trying to figure out when it began and when it ended. Despite New York’s big city rep it has this serendipitous quality that intertwines fear and opportunity seamlessly. You can in one moment feel yourself drowning in a sea of unknown and the next feel as though everything you have done in your life up until this point has brought you here.

FRIDAY August 6, 2010:

It all started Friday evening, I was invited to a cocktail party by a guy named Nick whom I met on the L train a few weeks back. He had complimented me on my style and asked me to join his “friendship circle”. He was holding an old leather briefcase containing only one item, an etch a sketch upon which he scribbled my name and handed me a business card made from cardboard. Weeks later I received an email invite to a cocktail party on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg. I probably would not have attended if it hadn’t been for the hilariously detailed “Cocktail Party Gossip Guest List”;

Reggie: Previously on tour opening for Conan O’Brien. Speaks French and German fluently. Originally from Montana. Enjoys talking about Health Food.
Kate: Currently stars in BLOODY BLOODY ALEXANDER play. On our first date I ran a Stop sign and swore profusely. There was no second date. Bringing a friend or two.
Matt: Another of my smartest, most well-read friends. Ask him about anything. If you visit his apartment and use a Q-tip, NEVER put it in the toilet and don't flush it. He will get really pissed. Great cook.

So, I attended. When I arrived I was informed that first, I was late and second, I had missed the front table where I was to make myself a name tag. I walked outside to a beautiful patio, a small pond with 5 fish and a huge garden. I came to realize that many of the guests had met Nick under similar circumstances as myself, one in a cab back from JFK, the restroom at the Whitney, another on the subway, a coffee shop, the pub, etc. Nick has this flamboyant sophisticated nature and a unique way of being so intently interested in what you are saying and with the blink of an eye disappears helping serve guests mint mojitos and stuffed mushroom risotto with baked Parmesan cheese. It all felt so random.

I had made plans across town so I thanked Nick for his hospitality and excused myself. I was meeting friends at Viva Toro, a new Mexican bar in my neighborhood with a dangerous happy hour and a mechanical bull. I had planned on just saying hello, staying for one frozen margarita, and calling it a night. However, somewhere in between my third margarita and shot of Patrón I found myself making a deal with Javier to DJ with my ipod and ride the bull. Throwing caution to the wind I signed the fine print 3 page release form stating that if I lose a limb, become paralyzed, suffer from a sudden seizure or possible death that this was in fact my own choice.. right.. yeah..got it...whatever. give me the damn cowboy hat. So with this new carefree confidence I got up on the bull and told Javier not to pull some sexist bullshit on me by "going easy" because I'm a girl, he raised his eyebrows at me and consented. And with two teeth rattling jerks my face made contact with the inflatable mat faster than I could say "Olé".

As I walked home feeling rather humbled by my cultural escapade I heard a familiar high pitch “Meddy?! Is that you?” I turned around to find my old room mate , Miche, staring back at me. A pair of eyes I hadn’t seen since my last night in Hawaii nearly two years ago when she had come home and insisted that we all sit around and listen to her soulful rendition of Subway’s most recent jingle, “5 dollar foot long”… Miche was this surfer girl from Florida with short bleache blonde hair, who spoke with this breezy aloofness, could most often be seen wearing a spandex onesie and had an unwavering love for a dog named Lupo that was living with us. Lupo suffered from bloody erections (and when I use the term "Bloody" I don't mean it in the way of British terminology, I'm talking about legitimate blood, my friend even hired a professional cleaning service to steam the carpet when we moved out... blarg) and heart worms. Needless to say I had little to no affection for this dog. It’s funny to think that at a certain time you can become so invested in a person's life and they in yours only to part ways and move on to your next chapter. And then two years elapsed you find yourselves on the corner of N7th and Bedford Avenue picking up where you left off. I am always so taken aback when these chance encounters occur; bumping into an old friend (or possible foe). It reminds me that life may not be just a string of coincidences but possibly a path with intentional purpose.