The 100 Girls, 100 Days Project

One of the qualifiers I have for a potential partner is their papaya preference.  I don’t trust a girl who goes to Papaya King over Gray’s. It’s an important first date question. Lucky for me, within minutes of meeting Lindsay, she mentioned a jonesing for Gray’s, we had a drink and then quickly hopped on the 1.

Minutes later, we arrived at 72nd and got the recession special. She got the banana daiquiri, and I got the coconut champagne. I jokingly suggested making them more applicable to their names, and she politely let out a small laugh.

Four dogs down, we hit the bar around the corner, which was unusually crowded for a Monday. In addition to that, we got to witness some douche on a guitar butcher Neil Diamond, The Old 97’s, John Mayer, and ironic Katy Perry covers. Since I covered the dogs, she covered the drinks. It was a pretty good deal.  We picked gin and took bets on what the guitarist would do next. Naturally, I won the little game because I’ve seen enough open mic enthusiasts to know the standard bar covers to appeal to the drunken masses.

Lindsay really wasn’t bad company for a few hours. She was semi-intelligent, not horrible looking, and most of all she had good taste in hot dogs and questionable taste in men. She was a great girl to make fun of guitarists with, and she had a lisp that you couldn’t unnoticed no matter how many beers and dogs you sent through your system.