This city's made us crazy and we must get out

(Guess who's been listening to her post-graduation mix CD lately?)

...and it's only Saturday night!

This summer I had completely forgotten what it's like to have an actual weekend, free of work responsibilities on both Saturday and Sunday -- I haven't been off for two days in a row since June. Now there are only a few weeks of summer left, and most of my time in New York has been occupied (read: "ruined") by Boy Drama, and I finally put my foot down. And it's like a whole new world: to go out Friday night and be able to stay out because for once I don't have to work on Saturday, to do something fun during the day on Saturday and still have Sunday left!

Last night I went out dancing with Hannah. Even though I was treating it as the most low-key club night ever -- I wore flip-flops and didn't even put on eyeliner, for goodness sake -- we got hit on by more guys in one night than I think I have been in my entire life. And by "guys," I mean "sketchy older drunken men who smelled like cigarettes and danced like creeps." Sample pick-up line: "I overheard you two say you want to make out with each other." Classy! Then we allowed two relatively normal-seeming guys to tag along with us to Magnolia at midnight, mostly because I thought it would be safer for us to cross town with two guys. They flirted with us by employing the classic third-grade method of demeaning us because we were girls. "Girls don't know how to read maps." Please. First of all, if there are Magnolia cupcakes to be had in the vicinity, I will find my own way and second of all, I don't need to have my intelligence insulted by an engineer from Ohio who has never heard of Tufts ("Is that like a community college?") or Brandeis.

This weekend so far has mostly been about discovering things I can no longer do because I've become too much of an old lady. Dancing at a club doesn't really become fun until about 11:30, at which point I am more than ready to be at home in bed. And then the Cyclone at Coney Island actually left me physically bruised and battered, plus the Pirate Ship was way scarier than I remembered it being the time I rode it five times in a row with Carrie and Dianne at Hershey Park! I couldn't even summon up the energy to ride the famous Ferris wheel. Then while Hannah and I were watching The Amityville Horror at my house, Marissa called to invite her to go dancing at a club in the city. "I'm not going to even call Rachel," she purportedly said, "because I know she won't want to go."

When did I get so uncool?