The Princess Walk of Shame

I was out for my best friend/roommate, Meal’s birthday at Beauty and Essex. It was a pretty fancy spot which isn’t really my style.

I was buying a drink downstairs when this guy with a southern accent offered to purchase it for me. Southern accents melted my heart. Of course he could buy me a drink.

  
Jim told me that he was from North Carolina but for some reason I thought he was from Texas and then later South Carolina. Jim was with his even hotter Aussie friend.

The Aussie was talking to my friend Dani and the guys invited us to go to Meatpacking with them. I explained to them that my sister was in for the party so I couldn’t go with them.

Juliette, my sister, wasn’t happy with me for talking to random guys and she wasn’t having fun. “I’m going home,” she said defiantly.

“I’m really sorry!” But she left. So Dani and I exited Beauty and Essex and got in…

“A limo?” I asked? “Is it yours?” Jim didn’t respond and we got in. Dani and I were loving how spacious it was and had a kicking fight (in a joking, friendly way.) I think the guys loved it since we were both in dresses but really I just love to kick.

I was pretty drunk by the time we arrived at SL. Dani and I switched off between hanging with this crew from Jersey and Jim and Daniel, his Aussie friend. I was trying to get with Daniel and Dani wanted a Jersey guy. We were all sharing a table with a promoter.

Black out

I was in a cab on my way to a hotel room with Jim.

Black out

I woke up with naked with no jacket (my leather one which was my favorite) and no belongings. No phone. No purse. No money. No metro card. No ID. Fuck! Jim was gone. All I had was my black dress and heels. It had cut out sides and was short in the front and long in the back.

I walked down to the lobby of the W hotel (how we chose to go all the way from meatpacking to Time Square I have no idea) and asked the reception lady if she could tell me any more information about Jim. His last name or something?

Rejected. My idiotic drunken self didn’t even bother to look at the room #. All I knew is that I was on the 37th floor.

I stomped out of the W hotel in my fucking heels and swaying black dress into the June sunshine.  

 The second I started walking home, a little girl pointed to me.

“Look Mommy, she’s a princess!” Her mom brought her hand to her face. Too bad the horse and carriage that passed by didn’t think that I was a princess too. I continued my “princess” walk of shame all the way to the east village.

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