My 'Miss. America' Encounter

Empire State of Mind is my new favorite song. Not only because it's Jay-Z and Alicia (whom I love), but it's the message of hope, perseverance and the possibility of success and happiness in MY city. It's easy to forget you live in NYC when you are trapped behind a bar for 13 hours. The American Dream! RIIIIIGHT! My dad taught me how to properly pour a beer when I was 5, though I’m sure he'd prefer I actually used the degree in dance that he paid thousands of dollars for. But beggars can't be choosers!




I am officially dubbing Monday, December 28th as Black Monday. Who knew the Monday after Christmas would be the busiest day of the year? Not me, that's for sure. From start to finish we were slammed. I showed up showered, with freshly dyed black hair, a positive attitude and ready to go! I hate Monday doubles, but it was worth it to be able to go home for the Holidays. This fabulousness lasted all of 5 minutes, then the hair was up, the pens were shoved in their proper place and I was covered in orange soda. There was no way to handle the amount of people and drinks by myself. There were three people deep at the bar and tickets were spewing out of the machine at the service bar. I was the Tasmanian Devil. There was NO socializing, no small talk. My goal was to make drinks and make it out alive.

I know for a fact my personality went to shit! I was just trying to get by. Of course this whole time I was cursing my life. I was mentally screaming: "I can't believe I'm a bartender- I'm a dancer. I can't believe I have to wait on these idiots- I should be drinking Cosmos down the street with my girls." But apparently the Gods of NYC thinks they're funny, and at this exact moment of mental warfare who did they send into my bar? None other than Miss. Freaking America! Ok, no, not the real Miss. America, but the Miss. America of PPU.



I wouldn't go to the lengths of calling her my arch nemesis or even my worst enemy, but the fact is, I didn't like her. When we were in school she thought she was the shit. She was better than everyone, but in true pageant form these words would never come out of her mouth. She had this way of oozing superiority and smugness out of her fake smile and over "Maybelline-d" face. So now, she's standing in MY bar so she was holding the upper hand. But not only was she standing in MY bar, but I was definitely NOT in my best light (literally-overhead lighting-yuck). So to emphasize this once again, she was in MY bar and I had to wait on her entitled ass. Well, I would have waited on her if I didn't legit run to the other side of the bar after we exchanged 'pleasantries'.



HA-I showed her! Well, not really. If I've learned anything in the last 3.5 years of living in NYC it's 'fake it till you make it'. Well, it's a little difficult to do that when you are caught in the thick of it. My day to day life is uber exciting to people who have no concept of the actual difficulties of living as an artist in Manhattan, but she knows. And to top it all off, she is performing more than I am (most of it is Bumblefuck stuff that I don't even audition for), but in her mind she's better, she's more successful and was going to be getting drinks from me.  Except like I said, I ran away!



Boo, I say to you Gods of Manhattan. BOO!