If it's one lesson I've learned from my time on Spaceship Earth is that heartbreak is a catalyst for action with me. I'm hoping I'm not the only one, but perhaps I am? I fear the abyss of depression as I barely managed to crawl out of it the first time around, and know deep-down I might not be able to do an encore performance if it happens again.
That's why I run, no, actually sprint the other direction! After a girl broke my heart, I got a spark in my ass. Which involved: bagels, Bucket Lists, and Barcelona.
WCP hit me up about what I wanted to do for New Year's Eve Y2K12. I ruefully thought, "Well, I'm not repeating last year's celebration!"
I told her on my Bucket List was to celebrate NYE in another country. Due to timing, finances, and planning, that narrowed it down to Canada and Mexico. And due to proximity, it was decided on Canada.
Plus I know she has an entire network in the club scene, so there might be resources and/or contacts to leverage in Canada should the need arise. We made reservations, packed up, and rolled north.
You see, even my little sister knows to count on me for a good time. And she silently agreed that she wanted to enjoy NYE as much as I did. The anticipation of an EPIC time kept building as we jetted north in the #SapphireSled - passports in hand.
The border crossing was gonna be packed, and sure enough, it was. We quickly discovered that the parking plan was flawed. Largely because we didn't have one. Therefore we focused intently on how to address it. We found a parking garage that would address our hardly-considered-overnight parking. We knew we had to retrieve the Sapphire Sled by 6 am. Check; it will be done.
We checked-in to our hotel of choice, Howard Johnson Vancouver Downtown. That's right the HoJo! It was literally next door to Barcelona Ultra Lounge where we would be ringing in the new year. WCP was in charge of the pre-gaming portion of the night, and she was clutch! A fifth of Sailor Jerry and a 2-liter of Coca-Cola, and some snacks, but we were gonna nosh on dinner anyways.
My recollection for the remainder of the night is similar to a 1992 security tape on VHS; fuzzy, black and white, and spotty in several places. I'm hoping she reads this entry and fills in the blanks in the comments area.
I digress.
Since I'm a private party DJ, I like to kick it with club DJs which I'm assuming you know don't but we're vastly different. The only thing we share is the title of DJ. Finally, the club got crackin' with people and activity. WCP and I started partying with dancing and drinking. However, anytime we really wanted a drink we simply would return to the hotel room for slamming a few drinks and return.
At some point in the evening we managed to procure 2 plastic masquerade masks. I was obliterated by now, so I placed mine on backwards which was all sorts awkward. We kept dancing, and drinking until the magic hour of midnight!
If memory serves me correctly, we bounced out right away. I probably declared I was hungry, and they only 24 hour food place was Subway.
Again, I'm piecing together an evening that happened 4 years ago through a fog of fatigue and alcohol. I remember sitting at a table, waiting for my little sister to return with sandwiches for the both of us. I was so hangry I literally noshed on it tough. I devoured it quickly. As we walk up to the hotel's entrance there was a paddy wagon outside of the nightclub. There were arrested patrons being escorted into the back of the wagon.
Once we got back to the hotel room, apparently I was still hungry. I requested or rather demanded to have a bagel. However, despite WCP's attempts to wrest it from my Kung-Fu, GI Joe grip, I still had it clutched in my hand by the time I woke up.
Speaking of which, that was a monster hangover we both woke up into. She suggested we retrieve the Sapphire Sled, and post up for breakfast. I struggled through their version of chicken fried steak and eggs.
We needed to jet home, so that meant the Peach Arch border crossing. The US Customs Officer asked if we accomplished what we needed, and I gleefully answered, "Yes, we did. It involved bagels, Bucket Lists, and Barcelona".
Keep digging, y'all,
'los
That's why I run, no, actually sprint the other direction! After a girl broke my heart, I got a spark in my ass. Which involved: bagels, Bucket Lists, and Barcelona.
WCP hit me up about what I wanted to do for New Year's Eve Y2K12. I ruefully thought, "Well, I'm not repeating last year's celebration!"
I told her on my Bucket List was to celebrate NYE in another country. Due to timing, finances, and planning, that narrowed it down to Canada and Mexico. And due to proximity, it was decided on Canada.
Plus I know she has an entire network in the club scene, so there might be resources and/or contacts to leverage in Canada should the need arise. We made reservations, packed up, and rolled north.
You see, even my little sister knows to count on me for a good time. And she silently agreed that she wanted to enjoy NYE as much as I did. The anticipation of an EPIC time kept building as we jetted north in the #SapphireSled - passports in hand.
The border crossing was gonna be packed, and sure enough, it was. We quickly discovered that the parking plan was flawed. Largely because we didn't have one. Therefore we focused intently on how to address it. We found a parking garage that would address our hardly-considered-overnight parking. We knew we had to retrieve the Sapphire Sled by 6 am. Check; it will be done.
We checked-in to our hotel of choice, Howard Johnson Vancouver Downtown. That's right the HoJo! It was literally next door to Barcelona Ultra Lounge where we would be ringing in the new year. WCP was in charge of the pre-gaming portion of the night, and she was clutch! A fifth of Sailor Jerry and a 2-liter of Coca-Cola, and some snacks, but we were gonna nosh on dinner anyways.
My recollection for the remainder of the night is similar to a 1992 security tape on VHS; fuzzy, black and white, and spotty in several places. I'm hoping she reads this entry and fills in the blanks in the comments area.
I digress.
Since I'm a private party DJ, I like to kick it with club DJs which I'm assuming you know don't but we're vastly different. The only thing we share is the title of DJ. Finally, the club got crackin' with people and activity. WCP and I started partying with dancing and drinking. However, anytime we really wanted a drink we simply would return to the hotel room for slamming a few drinks and return.
At some point in the evening we managed to procure 2 plastic masquerade masks. I was obliterated by now, so I placed mine on backwards which was all sorts awkward. We kept dancing, and drinking until the magic hour of midnight!
If memory serves me correctly, we bounced out right away. I probably declared I was hungry, and they only 24 hour food place was Subway.
Again, I'm piecing together an evening that happened 4 years ago through a fog of fatigue and alcohol. I remember sitting at a table, waiting for my little sister to return with sandwiches for the both of us. I was so hangry I literally noshed on it tough. I devoured it quickly. As we walk up to the hotel's entrance there was a paddy wagon outside of the nightclub. There were arrested patrons being escorted into the back of the wagon.
Once we got back to the hotel room, apparently I was still hungry. I requested or rather demanded to have a bagel. However, despite WCP's attempts to wrest it from my Kung-Fu, GI Joe grip, I still had it clutched in my hand by the time I woke up.
Speaking of which, that was a monster hangover we both woke up into. She suggested we retrieve the Sapphire Sled, and post up for breakfast. I struggled through their version of chicken fried steak and eggs.
We needed to jet home, so that meant the Peach Arch border crossing. The US Customs Officer asked if we accomplished what we needed, and I gleefully answered, "Yes, we did. It involved bagels, Bucket Lists, and Barcelona".
Keep digging, y'all,
'los
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