So, This is Winter

Last night I was trying to catch a cab at 4:30 AM in the most beautiful, serene snowstorm New York has seen in maybe two winters when these three skinny french boys attempted to take a photo of me and cute bartender X I had happen to be going home with, whilst he had his cute bartender arm around me.

His hand was squeezing at the back of my nape, in our cute matching black overcoats and I had my new, cute Boy George/ Chaplin/ Parisian hat on. He had snowflakes in his eye lashes and I told him that he looked beautiful although he was drunk and I was not and my mind had been wondering to the last boy I had been caught walking arm and arm with down Houston Street, just earlier this same winter. I wouldn't quite put bartender X in the same (somewhat atrocious) "box" as other bartenders I have known, as he reminds me of most of my dearest friends, him being a dirty blonde haired boy from the midwest, actor, smoker, etc.

I hope bartender X and I can stay friends after all is said and done and knowing me, he'll probably belong to my posse of best friends that occur in the most untraditional ways. This is typical.

The french boy with the camera and a beard strewn in snowflakes slipped and fell, tumbling as he went to take our picture. He fell really hard into a snow bank at the curb and landed on his back. Time stopped or slowed down a whole hell of a lot and my jaw dropped and I brushed bartender X's arm off of me and my body bolted to go offer the french boy help. However, when he finally landed on his back, he continued to point the camera at us and snapped our photo with a quite serious expression on his face, all while laying backside in the snow.

I hadn't laughed that hard in weeks.