After going out so much in Boston, I'm seeing a bit of a pattern. I plan each night to death.
Each weekend it's the same - I call around and see who's going where and when, and figure out where and when I'll meet up with others. I obsess over everything from designating drivers to making reservations and finding MBTA directions.
So this Friday, I decided to boycott planning. I would be - gasp! - spontaneous. I would not have anything to do with the destination for the evening, and I would let my Significant Other - aka "The Sig O" - and the night lead me. Sort of.
Here's how the night started. Note the Sig O's infinite patience.
Lush: "Ok, I'm here, are you ready to go?" Sig O: "In a few, wanna have a few drinks before dinner?" Lush: "But it's 7:30! You said we'd leave at 7:30!" Sig O: "There's no rush; let's have a martini or two before we go." Lush: "Are you wearing that? Am I underdressed? Can we go now?" Sig O: "Here. Drink this."
About a million years later, we visited the sushi bar at Taipei Tokyo, stuffing our faces with spicy salmon and struggling to stay atop our ultra-modern barstools. Fueled by those dirty martinis, I badgered the Sig O. Where would we go next? They didn't serve here! Did we want to stay in Davis? Then we wouldn't have to take a cab later, but I wasn't up for Redbones after sushi ... The Sig O had something else in mind.
We went to the Somerville Theater and watched 21 with Harpoons in hand (Sig O had the IPA; cider for me). Excuse me for dropping a little math here: Alcohol + movie theater = awesome. But if you're looking to make the Somerville Theater your new hangout, think again. There's a one-drink maximum, and if you didn't like the movie, you've paid a pretty hefty cover charge. Also, there's that whole bladder issue thing, which will inevitably become rather pressing at the most confusing part of the movie.
It was well before midnight when we left the theater, and the Sig O brought us to meet up with friends at the Enormous Room. But after emerging aboveground on Mass. Ave. and seeing the outrageously long line for a bar that, in the Lush's opinion, is highly overrated, we had to rethink our plans. Er, rather, our un-plans. Suddenly, our group - now four instead of two - all had different ideas. One didn't want to take a cab, one wanted a drink now, and one didn't want to drop a lot of cash. Then they all looked at me. "You know Central, right?"
After only three hours of "spontaneity," the Lush was back to the Planning Committee. I remembered hearing that Phoenix Landing had '80s nights on Fridays, and I led our party toward the Irish pub. Between rounds of tequila and B52s, we danced to Madonna, R. Kelly and Michael Jackson. Best part? Watching the bartenders sing to Material Girl. Worst part? When a young man expressed a keen interest in touching my face and the Sig O had to 'discourage' him. Then again, it was kind of hilarious.
When last call came, we sauntered over to my favorite Central spot - Moody's Falafel Palace. At the end of any night out, I always kind of hope to end up there with a giant hummus wrap in hand. So in the end, predictably, the night of Un-Planning went awry - with favorable results.
So how about the Lush's plans for this weekend? Don't ask.
Kate Peck is a senior majoring in English. She can be reached at Katherine.Peck@tufts.edu.
