Farewell, McButter!

Last Friday night was a sad time indeed, as San Francisco and the rest of our crew had to bid adieu to McButter, one of my favorite dancing partners, as she moved away to New York. So crucially important to her workplace, McButter was transferred for the year to the East Coast so she could jump start a program and make it work. They say it's for a year, but I believe that the glitz, glamor and girls of New York might convince her to stick around a little bit longer.

In celebration, we had a going away party, and as with all good things that are devilishly bad, the party was held at 666 Post in the city. If you're ever looking for a good rooftop to crash and smoke some js on, this is the place (just find the top floor). Upon entering, the building looks like the Tower of Terror at Universal with all sorts of vintage architectural features. I left the apartment at around 9 with Sis and Short Round, a travel bottle of Rum and Coke in tow.

When we get upstairs, the place is pretty crowded already, and a 5 foot wide kitchen contributes to the first accident of the night...as I've just finished filling up my cup with Rum and Coke, Za makes a wild hand gesture and succeeds in flipping the cup out of my hand, end over end in the air. I look down and Rum and Coke is all over the floor, and I look like I've wet myself because it just had to land on my crotch. I think that damage is pretty bad, until the girl standing at the sink turns around and glares. It is then that I realize that while the floor got a good portion of my drink, she has it all over her back. Za is laughing and doesn't notice as the girl makes a sprint for the bathroom. Of course, I do derive a bit of pleasure from this incident as it forces Za to dab at my jeans with napkins, trying to get the drink out.

The party for the rest of the night bounces between the dance floor in the apartment and the unbelievable smoking rooftop. Of course, no party would be complete without someone being a complete and utter jackass, and we're given that at around 1 am. A man comes in and very loudly asks everyone to be quiet, commanding attention. He does it in a way that speaks of authority, so everyone shuts up and the music gets turned down. When he has everyone looking at him, he says, "I'm the landlord of this building, and I need you to turn the music up!!!" Now, he obviously did this thinking he was bad ass and very cool and we were all going to love him, but really people are just kinda annoyed that he made them be quiet just to announce that. It goes over even less well when he pulls the same stunt 15 minutes later.

And that's about the night of it. As the party winds down, McButter knows it's one of her last chances for crepes in the city, so her, myself, Za, Sis and Short Round hop in the car for yet another crepe run to end the evening. McButter is gone now, but thankfully in this day and age, New York is only an IM away.