I think the big apple at night does the exact opposite. Unless your body can handle copious amounts of dairy, vodka and questionable toilet seats.
It was Friday Night and luckily, the hostel arranged nights out so I didn't have to roam New York like a complete lone wolf. The night began quite normally, if normal is watching a comedy show in the back of a Gothic beauty salon. Seriously, Marilyn Manson would've looked conservative there. Surprisingly, the comedians were actually hilarious. Although I'm pretty sure one guy thought he was hosting his own pity party. This meant that during his set, I spent a lot of time awkwardly looking for my care cup which hasn't been full since I missed out on playing the role of Hermionie back in 2001.
Once I had cry-laughed most of my mascara off, we headed to Artichoke Pizza. Normally, I'm a firm believer in 'eating is cheating', but who can really say no to pizza? For a girl who spends a lot of time saying that she can't eat dairy, I spend a lot of time eating dairy. On this occasion, I was so glad I'd cheated because the pizza slice really was incredible. The cheese was so perfectly melted, I literally had to face-plant the slice to eat it. Yes, it was definitely worth having a face made out of cheese for the rest of the night (not that my face requires help in order for it to look like the moon).
When our stomachs were seriously lined, we moved onto Coyote Ugly. It has always been a dream of mine to dance on that bar and shout 'Hell No! H2O!' whenever anyone dares to ask for water. Don't worry, I'm well aware that I don't exactly 'dream big'. In reality, dancing on that bar did not seem as hot as the movie made it seem so I kept my feet firmly on the ground. This may surprise those who have heard about the 'bar in Tenerife' incident of 2009, where I definitely made the most out of getting on a bar. I guess sometimes you really do learn from past mistakes (no one should have to ask a stranger for their top back).
What I thought would be the last port of call was a bar called One and One. If this bar is anything to go by, New York is still stuck in the 2000's and I loved it. Seriously, who doesn't love singing along to Sean Paul and Blu Cantrell? Sometimes you really do have to let it just breathe. There was also plenty of opportunity to introduce everyone to my dad dancing (I'm pretty sure I'll be starring in the next Step Up movie).
Back in England, I would consider this a successful night and make my way home with some cheesy chips. But this is New York and the night wasn't over yet.
Someone made the suggestion that we should head to Brooklyn Bridge and watch the sunrise. It was a brilliant suggestion and honestly, something I will never forget. There is something hauntingly beautiful about drunkenly watching the sunrise over New York with a group of people you've only known for a few hours. Although I probably could've done without the keen morning runners passing us by. Who needs reminding that they're probably not winning at life at 6am?
Eventually, we headed back to the hostel. Thankfully, no one abandoned me when I fell asleep on the subway. My dad had already warned me that I'm an easy target to mug and I think that I'd have probably been an even easier target if I was alone and asleep.
To my surprise, that wasn't even the end of the night. It turns out that in America, if you make drunken promises to a guy you've just met - they will take you up on that offer. It also turns out that in America, hostel maids will let anyone in to your room. This leads to one very awkward wake-up call from the guy you made out with and several judgmental looks from your roommates.
A few hours and a thorough shower later, I'm back on the subway. Despite being sleep deprived, sun-burnt and lost, I knew I'd fallen in love. New York; I love you and your useless subway map.