I already know what it's like to order a $ 20
cocktail at the Hudson, to get giddy
on prosecco at the Pier, to feel fuzzy after too many glasses of red at a wine bar
on the Upper East
Side, to shoot astronauts in Brooklyn (don't ask), to get drunk from some random spicy home - brew at a speak - easy in the East Village, to slurp sickly
sweet maraschino drinks at the Dominican joint in Queens, to share a bottle of Patron with
on - duty parking lot attendants in SoHo (again, don't ask), and of course, the rounds of the seemingly requisite mimosas at brunch.