It’s always something…tales from A.C.

I woke up yesterday morning and blew my nose for about an hour. Then got ready for the Food & Wine Festival in Atlantic City.

So, I knew it was going to be a special day when my friend (one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met…yeah I inherited her, it’s a long story) called me repeatedly to ask me when I was leaving. Cause she wanted to leave from a different train station than the one originally picked. She made this decision about 15 minutes before we were all supposed to meet.

For crying out loud.

I got to my friend E’s house and we had a bitch session about M (the annoying friend). You see, this whole trip was her idea. So, we felt that she was the one that should make the plans. That’s how I roll, people.

We meet up and are off to Cherry Hill to catch the train to A.C. There were supposed to be 10 of us going, but I noticed that two of us, A and J, weren’t at the train station. We got to the next station stop and see them board the train. Apparently, they didn’t get the message we were meeting at a different station. J started bitching M out, called her a ‘dit dit dah‘, and she said, “It wasn’t my idea to change stations.” We all looked at her like she’s a fucking nut.

It was totally her idea to change train stations.

We haven’t even gotten to A.C. yet.

The festival was being held at the A.C. Convention Center, which is right next to the train stations, so it was little drama getting to the show. I grab a couple of bags and go to the first table to taste some wine.

I notice that the rest of my friends are standing around arguing, erm, discussing which way they were going. I couldn’t deal with this, so I just went off on my own. And I had a great time.

I hit the beer aisle and sample away. By the time I get to where they’re hand rolling cigars, I’m a bit tipsy. I bought two cigars and decide to hit the food tables to soak up some of the beer I just drank. As I walk over to that part of the room, I see my friends.

I start hanging out with them around the vodka and other assorted liquors aisle. By the time I made my way over to the wine tasting, I was quite buzzed. I did buy a loaf of foccacia bread to eat and it helped.

I bought some organic chai tea, garlic oil, a bottle of cabernet franc, a bottle of pomegranate vodka, some interesting salsa, and pair of socks with martinis on them (I’m a dork).

My feet were killing me. I was wearing boots with 2 1/2 inch heels and didn’t think that would be a problem, but I hadn’t realized I would be on my feet for 4-5 hours. As we were leaving the festival to go to dinner, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I took my boots off and walked to the restaurant in my socks. Yes, through the streets of A.C. in my socks.

We got to the restaurant at the Continental at the Ocean One Mall on the boardwalk. Dinner was okay, I’ve had so much better. I’m not a huge fan of Steven Starr restaurants (he’s huge in Philly). I got a salad and a martini.

Now, I’m not cheapskate but when I go out to dinner I’m not big on splitting the bill if some people have went overboard. I just find that those most eager to split the bill are those who order the most expensive things. I’m cool with ordering expensive shit, just pay more.

Well, that’s what happened last night. I was more interested in spending my money at the festival, not on dinner. I would have been happy at a diner. I looked at my friend M and her boyfriend, and told them I was paying for my shit and that’s it. I threw the money down on the table and said I was going to walk around the mall.

This isn’t an ordinary mall. It has stores like Louis Vuitton, Coach, Burberry, Juicy Couture, and Kenneth Cole. I walked into Kenneth Cole because a particular pair of boots were screaming my name. Yeah, I could hear them as I was walking by. I ask if they have a brown pair in my size. I also see a pair of snake skin ballet flats on sale. I ask to try them on too.

The flats are adorable. I’m sold. I put on the boots next and I fall in love. Just as I stand up, A walks out of the dressing room and she agrees that they are gorgeous. The salesman then tells me if I buy both pairs of shoes, he’ll take 30% off the bill. Fucking sold, I say.

So, yeah I spent $300 on two pairs of shoes. But the leather on the boots is like butter. They are absolutely stunning. I feel a little guilty about the purchase, especially since Christmas is coming, but I think I will get over my guilt easily.

I wear the flats out of the store, as I still had my boots off from before. We’re all ready to leave and we start walking to the train station. My left foot is a little bigger than my right and the shoe is starting to really dig into my skin. About a block later, I feel like razors have sliced the skin on my left foot. I know it’s bleeding and I take the shoe off. And the sock. And walk barefoot. My little and big toes are mangled.

And that, my friends, should have been the end. Except E seemed to have way too much to drink and barfed on the train. Thankfully, my nose is still stuffed up so I couldn’t smell it. She had a bag, so no mess. We’re a prepared group.

I got home and soaked my foot in an Epsom salt bath. The blisters are still oozing this morning.

I also feel like a train hit me today. I’m not hung over. My cold is killing me. I’m coughing a lung up and blowing my nose every five seconds. My lips and nose is chapped. I could sleep for a week.

I came home to find out that Mullet Man was again on the property and the police were called. I’m so glad I wasn’t home.

I also got a DVR. Um, I am deeply in love with this already. I can record my “Namaste Yoga” program so that I can do it in the morning. I can record shows I want to watch and don’t have to worry about being able to stay up to watch them (sad sad sad). This is fucking awesome.

Okay, I’m going. I’m not feeling that great and want to cuddle down on my couch.