So I’m sitting at the airport bar, waiting my plane back from my first ever business trip. Over the course of the last week I have kept notes of my adventures to ensure I would remember and accurately report them. However, I can be a dipshit sometimes and decided to check my baggage which had my hard token in it. This means I cannot connect my work computer to the internet to write my blog posts. Therefore, I’m in word and will be transferring this once I land home. (And by “once I land home” I mean once I get back to Minnesota, party a shit-ton at the Macalester reunion tent, sleep, and then copy this over.)
My trip was absolutely fantastic. Overall, I feel like, damn, this is what I’ve always wanted to do and now I’m doing it and I love it. My first night (which was in Denver) I had no idea what to expect. My coworker set my expectations by saying “no way you can go to sleep before 1am.” Talking to Joe, I was hopeful it would be a fun night, knowing I’d have to just go with the flow. I can’t puss out on my first business trip, right? You know, be that lame person who stays in the room while everyone else is out creating the stories and memories?
After we landed, we went back to the hotel, checked in and then had a couple moments to ourselves. At 5:30 we met to go to dinner, which was my first expense paid dinner for work. Awesome. The most surprising thing to me was that people ordered drinks. Like I said, I went along with the flow and drank some wine. Nothing too crazy, just some Kim Bassinger or something like that.
At dinner, conversation naturally moved into online dating. I explained, that when I was in Denver the previous July, I too had met up with some men that I had met online. I told the story of starting early (a couple weeks prior) to have enough conversation with people to be comfortable meeting them in person. My manager must have missed the first part about this being the PREVIOUS time I was in Denver, because soon she interjected “I’m not judging you or anything… but, didn’t you just move in with your boyfriend?” This made for a good laugh.
We also had a free coupon for dessert and tried to order lava cake. Our waiter came back and was like “oh, we are out of that.” ON A FRICKEN TUESDAY? Jeez. So, we settled on the red velvet cake and it was pretty alright.
Next we go home, right? Wrong. We go to The Green Russell, which was this awesome speak easy. This is significant because it’s the bar that I went to with Drew last July. When I walked up to the door though, I was severely disappointed to discover that it was no longer a private, unlabeled bar but was now the “Russell Smoke House.”
Seriously people, how much disappointment can one girl take in a night? After texting Drew a few choice words about this revelation, we went over a block to The Pour House. On the infamous night last July, this was our second place too, so I was feeling nostalgic and internally reminisced about the drunken times of my life before Joe. The place was just as I remembered it- your typically college bar that also had a rooftop patio, which I conveniently took a picture of:
Once we ordered our drinks, conversation bounced from work straight into prostitution. Someone who was recently in Seattle mentioned that she went on the late night underground tour of the city where the focus was the prostitution of the early 1900’s. It was fascinating to learn that, due to the gold rush, the women to men ratio was something like 1:29. Those women made bank. Word is, they even learned that if the rubbed the men’s gold and then rubbed their hair, the could then wash the gold out of their hair and sell it for an entire week’s worth of pay (and remember, everything you read on the internet is true!).
We continued walking around after leaving The Pour House, and like I said, memories rushed back. I thought of the hook up I had at the Oasis
Pretty snazzy place, yes? No. It made me laugh and thankful that I am in a committed relationship and no longer hooking up with rando-hotties at a bar, who are probably a lot older than my beer goggles make them appear.
Next on our tour was the Tilted Kilt. Sadly, as drinks increased the number of pictures I took decreased… so I don’t actually have a picture of what we called “the hooters of Scotland.” Getting tired, we decided to head back (after 3 drinks or so) and then our attention was captured by Coyote Ugly.
The place was pretty much dead except for a few old geezers at the bar. If any fun was to be had, we had to make it. So, a body shot later we are playing musical chairs and it actually turned into an amusing bar. Because I was nearly falling asleep though, I tried to sneak out with my manager because she too was tired. Everyone ended up following us and then we went to Katie Mullen’s pub. I had been there before (alone one afternoon the previous July) and liked that we shared a name. We sat down, had an irish car bomb (not my choice… for many reasons, one of which we were in an irish pub…) and skedaddled on our way. To the next bar. Which was called Paramount Cafe. This was probably the best part of the night because they had both 2for1s on blue moon and cheap chips + guac. I also got to show my hand in wing-maning as I hit on two gay men for a co-worker of mine. Let’s just say, it was a late first night.