Location: Koh Tao, still. Post originally written on June 23rd, posted June 24th
Today is Lindsay's birthday! (Sort of, because it was yesterday, but work with me here) And, because nothing is happening that is all that exciting in my world besides beach time and laziness and dive wound healing, I'm going to talk about her!
My first memory of Lindsay was from wine tasting class my senior year in college. That's right. You read that right. How else did I (and most of those I hold dear) get so awesome? Just like you however, my parents also took pause at this class upon seeing it on the tuition bill that semester.
Wasn't that crafty of my college? Or really, maybe not. In the same moment they are asking, really demanding money for the higher education of a child, my university made sure to note that the money was going to things like "Beginner Ice Skating" "The Laws of Branding" (that was legit) and "Introduction To Wine Tasting." Just in case you are wondering, my swizzle skating skills are on fleeeeeek. My final consisted of a routine performed to the hit tune "I want to sex you up." I believe one Jessie Erickson Folmar picked that song. #NailedIt
In my defense, I completed my mandatory credits early and had a few to burn. And burn them I did. And, even though my gang of yahoos (Sarah, Kate and Meggie) showed up to wine tasting with a Kroger bought cheese plate (again, we on fleek) the first two hours of this three hour weekly class were pure botany. What soil, what temperature does x varietal in Chile grow in? I couldn't really tell you now. But! Some people (cough Meggie cough) bailed out of actually writing the final paper at the end and opted to take wine tasting pass fail. (I am cackling writing this. Pass fail! Bah!)
EDITOR'S NOTE: It turns out that we all basically took this class pass / fail and our friend Meggie actually fully dropped this class days before the final paper was due. Per Hennings, it is because "she wanted to watch sex and the city" which if I remember correctly, she was downloading off of limewire. #priorities
In any case, Teach and Lindsay tended to sit behind myself and the aforementioned cheese loving cronies. I remember Lindsay specifically because she looked super cool with long curly hair that had hot pink highlights in it. I was not that cool. Not by a long shot. I had a full time biz-casual with gray new balance sneakers approach to life then.
Fast forward to graduation weekend....I ended up sitting on the floor of Lindsay's apartment, where she notably lived with 13 other gals most of whom were my sorority sisters, including our future roomie Teachout. Eating leftover meatballs that were part of an eight hour-old buffet at Stadium, Lindsay explained she had a job in Chicago and I noted I was from Chicago! Kismet! We exchanged numbers and then I, seriously rotund from too much beer and red because I decided the nights before graduation would be a good time to "try tanning", put her number into my phone.
But then... nothing. I did go back to Chicago after graduation and got an odd job with House Beautiful Magazine in the suburbs at their makeover show house for 2004. But I never called her.
I remember thinking about calling her, listening to Kaskade in my bedroom at my parent's house while drinking Yellow Tail Shiraz that I smuggled in and "hid" in my closet. But clearly the wine failed to inspire me to do much about it, because Lindsay never got a phone call.
Fast forward three years. Sarah (Teach) is visiting NYC (big props here to Teach who just called me one day saying she wanted to come visit and then it became a yearly thing) and she tells me that her former roommate, Lindsay, is in NYC too. Lindsay at this time was basically living at the W Hotel and accruing Starwood points like a boss.
Cue an awesome weekend with Ellen and Ian that included margaritas, a vertical cooler packed with drinks in Central Park, rooftop sandwiches made by Chef Morgan and trying to steal a grocery cart from CVS. We were unsuccessful in our theft, which was fine by me, as my studio was pretty well decorated in prints from Ikea anyway.
And that's it. Soon after that weekend, both of these ladies moved to NYC and we identified an apartment with bedrooms so small that we would have to pole vault onto our raised beds as the perfect place to live.
Lindsay, Sarah and I have celebrated many birthdays, hosted masquerade parties, recession special parties, New Years Eve parties and many Christmas parties together. We've moved twice together and Teach and I even got the opportunity to loudly voice our opinions to Lindsay and her realtor on where she should live in London. At the end of a 13 apartment tour throughout London, where the realtor actually drove us around, we summarized our feelings: "Not in the dump! I saw those cats outside lurking! Live in the one where you'll have a bathroom under the stairs like Harry Potter that kinda looks like Anthropologie's home section! Yeah!! That one! Wait, that was the one with the cats? Okay, fine, cats are cool I guess. Yeah!"
We've debated bang choices, given almost every year a theme (see below, year of the creeper) discussed the inner workings of bad dates as well as the lure of a good pyramid scheme. Those can be pretty tricky, you know. I've even run after the birthday girl when thought she was Jason Bourne and on the lam one night in Santorini. We'll save that story for another day.
And now, in 2015 we are all (basically) still in New York, having a grand ole time. Some friends are still there, some have moved to another coast or to a suburb. But last night people still gathered for Lindsay's birthday to wish her the very best. Seeing as I slept through my plan to send them all champagne (just like a hot gentlemanly man would from the other side of the bar) with their gluten free cupcakes at the end of the meal, I'm writing this post. That more than likely, none of them will read.
Hope you ladies had a killer time drinking rose.
And, most importantly, happy birthday LB.