America, Act I
Here's a question: After quitting your job, taking a break from med school, and spending all of 2005 traveling to some of the most beautiful, exotic, invigorating places in the world, places you've been fantasizing about for a lifetime, is it a bad thing if your favorite part of the whole year is the ten days you spend in America?
Act I
We landed at JFK around 10pm on a Friday night and were greeted at customs by our friend Kimmy, a particularly joyful and appropriate reunion since she was the one who dropped us off at SFO to begin this crazy journey 8 months (and change) ago. With 18 hours of air travel under our belt and a date with karaoke looming the next night, the sensible thing to do would have been to go to bed, go directly to bed, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Do not go to a speakeasy in the West Village, do not reunite with your sobbing mother, do not stay up late drinking beers with your family and friends who flew in to see you. Whatevah.
The next morning we woke up at 7:30 am and went for a run in Central Park. We'd like to thank jetlag for making that possible. Schlepped uptown to feast on the bagels and pizza Rahul had been dreaming of, and spent the afternoon attempting, but failing, to nap in preparation for the night's festivities.
And then came karaoke. It was a rager. A massive-ass rager. Meg's Daderoo stole Kwray's fabulous blue wig and wouldn't relinquish it till he needed his cowboy hat to sing David Allen Coe. Rahul's dad and stepmom wowed the crowd with an adorable, and surprisingly empathetic, rendition of "When I'm Sixty-Four". Meg's Mommacita made her karaoke debut with the ambitious "Stand By Your Man", and was so swept away that she stayed up all night dreaming about all the songs she wished she had sung. Or will sing once she finds a karaoke joint in Houston to drag all her friends to.
As the night progressed and we were feelin' the love (and the tequila), we started making our way up the steep emotional arc of karaoke. Meg cried her eyes out when her med school friends Cat and Eliza showed up. The Pearson kids lost all inhibitions and got together to serenade their squeezes with some "Sexual Healin'". In response, Mandy, Candy, and, um, Randy (it rhymes), busted out the Divinyls' "I Touch Myself", fervently avoiding eye contact with the Pearson parents throughout the performance. As our pre-arranged stopping time of 2am approached, the party wasn't even close to winding down, so we convinced the friendly IBop owners to let us stay as long as our throats could hold out (and beyond).
We finally called it a night around 4am, and dragged our butts home, filled with the singing love and shuddering at the thought of waking up for brunch the next morning. Our caterwalling crew suffered a few casualties (courtesy of Kimmy and her Cuervo crusade), but we think everyone's recovered by now. Except for Ali-mac, who's still sporting a thumb-splint after Bustin' A Move overzealously. Good thing she's in radio.
We'd like to give one last shout out to everyone who drove and flew out to celebrate with us. We love you! Special props to Melora, for donating us her amazing West Village flat and for helping us find the speakeasy, the Latin-Asian fusion diner, and the swanky brunch spot.
Tune in tomorrow for Act II - in which our protagonists head up to New Haven to meet with professors (Meg) and eat pizza and watch movies (Rahul).
Act I
We landed at JFK around 10pm on a Friday night and were greeted at customs by our friend Kimmy, a particularly joyful and appropriate reunion since she was the one who dropped us off at SFO to begin this crazy journey 8 months (and change) ago. With 18 hours of air travel under our belt and a date with karaoke looming the next night, the sensible thing to do would have been to go to bed, go directly to bed, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Do not go to a speakeasy in the West Village, do not reunite with your sobbing mother, do not stay up late drinking beers with your family and friends who flew in to see you. Whatevah.
The next morning we woke up at 7:30 am and went for a run in Central Park. We'd like to thank jetlag for making that possible. Schlepped uptown to feast on the bagels and pizza Rahul had been dreaming of, and spent the afternoon attempting, but failing, to nap in preparation for the night's festivities.
And then came karaoke. It was a rager. A massive-ass rager. Meg's Daderoo stole Kwray's fabulous blue wig and wouldn't relinquish it till he needed his cowboy hat to sing David Allen Coe. Rahul's dad and stepmom wowed the crowd with an adorable, and surprisingly empathetic, rendition of "When I'm Sixty-Four". Meg's Mommacita made her karaoke debut with the ambitious "Stand By Your Man", and was so swept away that she stayed up all night dreaming about all the songs she wished she had sung. Or will sing once she finds a karaoke joint in Houston to drag all her friends to.
As the night progressed and we were feelin' the love (and the tequila), we started making our way up the steep emotional arc of karaoke. Meg cried her eyes out when her med school friends Cat and Eliza showed up. The Pearson kids lost all inhibitions and got together to serenade their squeezes with some "Sexual Healin'". In response, Mandy, Candy, and, um, Randy (it rhymes), busted out the Divinyls' "I Touch Myself", fervently avoiding eye contact with the Pearson parents throughout the performance. As our pre-arranged stopping time of 2am approached, the party wasn't even close to winding down, so we convinced the friendly IBop owners to let us stay as long as our throats could hold out (and beyond).
We finally called it a night around 4am, and dragged our butts home, filled with the singing love and shuddering at the thought of waking up for brunch the next morning. Our caterwalling crew suffered a few casualties (courtesy of Kimmy and her Cuervo crusade), but we think everyone's recovered by now. Except for Ali-mac, who's still sporting a thumb-splint after Bustin' A Move overzealously. Good thing she's in radio.
We'd like to give one last shout out to everyone who drove and flew out to celebrate with us. We love you! Special props to Melora, for donating us her amazing West Village flat and for helping us find the speakeasy, the Latin-Asian fusion diner, and the swanky brunch spot.
Tune in tomorrow for Act II - in which our protagonists head up to New Haven to meet with professors (Meg) and eat pizza and watch movies (Rahul).
posted by Meghul at 10:13 AM
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