Girls Night Out is as common as the swine flu and as essential as criticism of Obama for receiving the Nobel Peace prize.


One of my best friends recently finished her contract dancing for Royal Caribbean cruise lines (not THAT type of dancing, dirtballs), so my ND friends and I decided that a GNO would be an adequate way to welcome her back to the states. I would put a STL Catholic school girls clique or friendship up aganist any bromance from the Hills or any other Hollywood group for that matter. They’ve got nothin’ on us ND girls. Four years of stapling navy blue skirts to a certain hemline paired with horrendous powder blue button down oxford shirts created an undeniable bound.


My dance-friend hadn’t been to a Cardinals game all year so we decided to purchase some cheap seats for a September weekend game. The eight of us climbed up Busch Stadium, stopping for the bathroom and beer, and took our seats in the very last row of the stadium. The Cards proceeded to lose to Atlanta and the girls and I proceeded to take in Budweiser products like a fat dude putting away hot dogs on Coney Island. Given the hefty $7.75 price tag for a 16 ounce, I had planned and budgeted accordingly for the alcohol fest that would ensue at GNO. Somewhere one of the Busch kids is going on a shopping spree from the amount of dollars my friends and I spent that day at the game.


After the game, the crew headed over to Paddy O’s to eat and continued drinking. Around 9 o’clock and mid-fist pump to some classic Journey song, I realized I had been drinking for 7 hours. Considering I am not a marathon drinker (more of a sprinter) I cheers’d my friend, finished my beer, and headed to the bar. An older, biker-looking dude wasn’t paying attention and ran into me. Well, his 40 year old friends thought he should buy my friend and me a drink for the inconvenience. What girl passes up a free beer? I lucked out and he didn’t try to hit on me, get my number, or proceed with awkward small talk. He handed my friend and I a beer and said, “Have fun girls.” Nothing like a non-creepster buying me a drink. I feel like he probably had a daughter around my age; hence, the non-sketchy attitude. Score.


Around 10 o’clock the day started to hit me and I became exhausted. Two girls had their fiancés pick them up, and one girl had her mom come get her given she had 3 rounds of puking in the toilet. The rest of us kept truckin’ forward and ventured onto some bar on Washington Ave. I was wearing a red tank top and sneakers a.k.a completely underdressed for Wash. Ave. As women pranced in wearing 4 inch stilettos and silky, mid-thigh dresses, I began to feel out of place and nauseous from drinking 10 hours straight.


The solution to my body putting on the brakes? Shots: clearly the only logical conclusion. One of my friends ordered up a round of shots and the bartender vowed they tasted good. Another one of my friends warned the bartender that if the shot tasted bad, she would easily throw up all over her bar. I concurred and took the “applesauce” shot. Not bad. It was at this point that Monday chick and I were in the same boat. Her poison was whiskey after a wine and I chose gin and tonic after a day of Bud Select and Jaegerbombs.


And so enters bar #3, the Tin Can. The second I entered the doorway I was done. At this point I started planning on how to get home. Originally we all were going to take a cab back to Brentwood, but not everyone was ready to leave. As I ran through my other options (my parents: live in O’Fallon, negative…My boyfriend: drinking at a strictly guys night, negative…Cab by myself: do-able, but expensive). My friend looked at me and said, “I’m over it. I’m calling my parents. Do you want to come home with me?” I’ve never been so happy to get into my friend’s parents car. My GNO experience was over.


The next morning when G jokingly asked if I went home with anyone I could honestly say yes. I went home with my girlfriend, who I’ve known since sophomore year of high school. Hey, he never said I couldn’t go home with a girl! As I recapped the night to G, it turned out his night ended up being WAY more eventful than mine.


Let’s just say it involved cougars, a fire, and a mag-light .