The best time I spilled a beer near Jay-Z


This story is about Jay-Z getting a drink. It is also about me getting the drink for him, even though at first I failed at that endeavor. I think Jay-Z may have enjoyed both of these things.

I’d just been hired at the swank downtown restaurant where Jay-Z is a regular, along with a cadre of other New York celebs. This is the kind of place where New York’s career servers plant themselves professionally, for years. I was assigned to shadow one of them, whose section included Jay-Z’s table. That day, this mostly meant running drinks.
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Drunk of the Day: “Where you there when I was asleep?”


We are looking to move into a better apartment and thus, spent a recent Saturday afternoon scoping out potential future abodes. Little did we know that while touring one (pretty damn nice, but way isolated) building, we’d meet the Drunk of the Day.

Drunk of the Day wandered out of his door and into the hallway just as our group was exiting one available place and moving on to see another. Sugar free Red Bull in hand, he asked us if we would like to see what a furnished loft looked like. We all agreed and followed him inside his place. He explained his various hip and artsy furnishings and accessories in great detail (these are the many mirrors we look at ourselves in while getting ready to go out, this is my display of Mary artifacts—although I’m not religious, this is a prop door) and came across as incredibly friendly and generous, albeit eccentric, and maybe nursing an enthusiasm-over.

Once we left his loft and Drunk of the Day proclaimed he would like to join us on the tour, things took a turn. In the elevator D.o.t.D. turned again to the group and asked if we would like to see what his loft looked like. Silence ensued as the tour guide muttered awkwardly that we’d already seen it. “Were you there when I was asleep?” he asked, looking bewilderedly around the crowded car. Nervous laughter, darting eyes. “So. . . what have you been up to? Not sleeping much?” Our tour guide inquired. “Actually, I’ve been on a 30-day drinking binge,” D.o.t.D. announced in a strangely clear and unwavering voice. “I’m living off of these.” He held up his can of sugar free Red Bull.

The moral of this story is that just because someone isn’t slurring their speech, falling over and/or hitting their head on shit, lighting their smoke on the filter end, or buying the whole bar a round of red headed stepchild shots—it doesn’t mean they’re not blacked out drunk.


Photo courtesy of mfarjado, flickr.