if you're just now joining us, read the friday post.

so, saturday morning started out late, because of the recovering from hangovers and whatnot. once we got going, i told my sister i'd take her anywhere she wanted for her birthday brunch-type meal. she chose a place called marathon grill, which is apparently a small chain in the philly area. it was pretty freakin good food (especially my steak sandwich), but we were sitting next to a table of 3 obnoxiously stupid college students that i need a moment to yell about.

let me paint a picture for you. trucker hats. propped up collars. one minute talking 'gangster' but the next minute talking like an episode of 'sex and the city'. ordering shots of whiskey for another table in the restaurant. incredibly loud the entire time. terrible at telling the wait staff what they wanted, and also very, very fussy with their meal (especially considering how gangster they were). i wanted to punch them all in their respective faces. it was frustrating.

but the food was good.

so from there we did a quick tour of the penn campus, which included a stop at my sister's home away from her apartment, the architecture studio. all i have to say is that i only had to write papers in college, not build to-scale models from scratch using just wood and glue and a sturdy hand. we also went by a new place, the american apparel store.

now, i'm not sure if you've heard of american apparel. they used to just be a tshirt supply company, giving the blank tshirts to companies like bustedtees. now they sell their blank solid color tshirts... and pretty much every other piece of clothing you can imagine. so, you're going in to a store with a billion different types of clothes, all with no design but available in a full spectrum of colors. oh yeah, and their big thing is how they infuse sex into everything they sell, what with people modeling in their tshirts half-naked and the covers of old porno magazines on the walls of their store, and whatnot. so not only is this the stupidest, most 2005 version of 1983 store in the history of the world, everyone who works there is part of the american apparel cult. so don't go in to american apparel stores - they suck. i don't know if i did it justice, but god... i hated that store.

after walking back to my sister's place, i decided to run out and get a haircut because for some reason, my hair was bothering me and i felt like being a little bitch about it. 30 minutes and $20 later, i returned with about a fifth of my original hair on my head and a big smile. it felt damn good to walk back in the 50-degree weather and a shaved head. though, it was the first haircut i had paid for in a few years, so i felt kind of bad about it. still, it felt damn good.

anyways, all this stuff was a mere precursor to the main event of the weekend - mike yetter's surprise 25th birthday extravaganza at the capital grille in downtown philadelphia. i've been putting off this post for a while because there are 3 prime stories within this greater story of mike's birthday that really had to be told in a magnificent way. i'm going to try to cover them properly, but if i don't do a great job or if (more likely) i let some other stories or details slip through the cracks, i'm looking for help from the proper sources (zach, jen). ok, onward.

so jen and i got to capital grille a little early. both of us were slightly worried about being underdressed in jeans, but after seeing a few of the patrons exiting the restaurant, we were more at ease. before going in to cg, we decided to walk up and down broad street a little bit. we saw the scary-ass gotham-esque city hall to our right, a strangely understated hotel across the street, and a shitload of restaurants to our left. we walked down to our left for a while and then turned and came back. we walked up to the scary-ass gotham-esque city hall and then quickly retreated to the understated hotel. what hotel could this be? look, a tiny plaque next to the door... "ritz-carlton"

so we went in. most uncomfortable place ever. we walked in to see a procession of people in tuxedos and ballroom gowns gliding across the lobby floor. we did a quick circle around the lobby and got more dirty looks than i think i ever have in my life. rich people are snobby bitches, but damn is that hotel fancy. actually, i'm in no place to say that it was fancy, because we were in and out of there in 5 minutes, even amusing the doorman ("that was fast") with our short visit. he didn't think we belonged in there.

at this point we decided to just go over to capital grille and play the waiting game at the bar. jen had told me about the signature cg drink, which is basically a fancy pineapple vodka martini. we both had one, and it indeed tasted just like pineapple juice with a little bite at the end. it amuses me to no end that the best alcoholic drinks are the ones that taste like juice. i think i drink whiskey as my way of protesting mild drinks and the masking of alcohol - if you want to act all grown up and drink and whatnot, at least do it right. eh, but whatever - the pineapple juice was good. we met up with the other guests to the party, including 4 people i didn't know and didn't get to know that night at all. we went back to our table and waited about 15-20 minutes. then mike showed up and he just about crapped his pants. the seating arrangement had me in the closest seat to where mike and his wife amy would be walking in, thus having me in the most visible position. however, mike hasn't seen me in 3 years and really would not expect me of all people to be sitting in a capital grille in philly. as he later confirmed, he saw me, and then thought... "no, that can't be niv." surprise!

so going back to those guests - and this is the first of the three crucial parts of this overarching story - apparently mike's old boss looks like johnny damon. like, exactly like fucking johnny damon. to the point where our waiter (who i really want to say was like oliver from the O.C.) asked if he was johnny damon. and jen and i couldn't help but stare at him when we looked down there. ok, you think i'm lying. well, look at this picture. mike is the one standing straight on in the picture, and johnny freakin' damon is sitting right next to him. i mean, look at that!!! it's unbelievable.

the second crucial part to this story is the amazingness of capital grille. everyone at the table got the wedge, the ubiquitous steakhouse salad that consists of a quarter wedge of lettuce and dressing on top. jen sorta passed on this portion of the meal, as the tomato salad was going to be her main course. i thought about it for a while and ended up skipping the salad but getting the shrimp cocktail, just to spite thad's stupid little brother. and because it's delicious. which it was. for the main course, i went balls out with the medium rare 24oz porterhouse. this was definitely the best steak i've ever had in my life. that's all there is to say about it. i just had the steak at nero's in caesar's palace 2 weeks earlier, and this steak trumped it easily.

so i'm going to skip ahead here to the next crucial part, a veritable substory within this overarching story - the post-dinner festivities. after our 4 hour dinner, we went back to rittenhouse square, which is where mike and amy were staying for the night. the rittenhouse hotel is very, very nice. very similar to the four seasons in philadelphia. yes, i've been in the 3 nicest hotels in philadelphia. no, i'm not a rich asshole. just, these things happen. anyways, we decided to stay around rittenhouse square and went across the park to a bar named 'rouge'. it was too busy and they wouldn't give us a table, so we went next door to their spiritual if not actual sister bar, 'bleu', which was completely empty. we sat down and even though zach proclaimed this to be the night of getting fucked up, we took it relatively easy. except at some point i was shooting jack daniels and chasing it with jim beam... and i think zach pulled off one of his stunts from my first philly trip and got everyone a round of patron. but the greatest moment arrived when i noticed the almost-empty bottle of johnnie walker blue on the top shelf behind the bar. first, some background.

first, for those of you who don't know, johnnie walker blue costs anywhere from $180 to $220 a bottle in liquor stores. drinks usually go for anywhere from $30 to $35 each in bars and restaurants. it's 60-year-old whiskey from scotland, and while it isn't single malt, it's still considered one of the finer drinks in the world. though at this point, its generally considered a little overrated, but that shit happens.

anyways, i've talked to numerous people about drinking blue label whiskey. i've talked about it with tufts guys, most notably phil (the only person other than me who could stand a good whiskey), i've talked about it with zach, and i've brought it up and brought it up. when a thing is the best of a category that you enjoy, you are inclined to do anything to try it.

so i've been goading zach about it all weekend. i brought it up a couple of times friday night and he told me to save it for saturday night. i brought it up saturday night and we both bluffed at each other, saying we'd do it but somehow not dropping for it yet. however, i saw this almost-empty bottle at bleu and i knew it was time. i asked the bartender how much it was a drink. $35. fine. i told zach. he hesitated, but only for a split-second. i yelled "BLACK LABEL" at him, reminding him of the drink he passed up the night before. he quickly agreed. i had a partner, but blue label had to be tried by all of the guys here. it just had to! the bartender had warned me that he thought he could get 2-3 drinks out of the bottle, so knowing that we'd have to share anyways, i approached steveweiser. he was quickly, quickly in. i knew in my heart that mike would fall quickly, leaving just colin, who could at least PRETEND that he'd drink it. so i went after mike, and mike, very surprisingly, said no. "no, i can't do it. not whiskey." even when i implored him, telling him it was the best whiskey on earth, he denied me. and thus was borne the greatest story ever told. now, i was very very drunk when i told this to mike AND i told it all in one fluid motion, with proper pauses and everything. just saying, i'm fucking brilliant.

mike... one day, a few years down the line... reese (note: mike's son) will be 14 or 15 years old and you and amy will have moved out of the house you live in now into a much nicer, bigger house... maybe with a pool! and one day, reese is gonna say... "dad, let's go for a swim".. and you're gonna say, ok son, i'll meet you outside

at this point, steve and zach definitely both said "i have no idea where niv is going with this" and "i can't wait to see where this is going" at the same time

and you're gonna come outside in your swimming trunks and your son is going to say... "dad.... when i go to the other kids houses for a swim, their dads always have hair on their chests"

now i don't know if anyone heard any more of my story because zach and steve were laughing pretty f'n hard at this point

"but dad... why don't you have any hair on your chest?" and you're gonna tell him "one time i had a chance to try blue label with my friends and i said no"

so mike agreed to drink the johnnie walker and colin did too, but who knows if he actually had more than a tiny sip. and damn, it was delicious. it has no bite. it's smooth, its smokey, its just awesome. we shared the 2.5 drinks, the bartender charged us for only two, and i got him to give me the bottle, which now stands proudly alongside black label and some patron atop my kitchen cabinets.

pictures are over here. my favorite is this one and you can see that zach really does do a gay bear, as i think i mentioned in the previous post.

so philadelphia was a real, real fun time. my sister was an ever gracious host and we had a great time for her birthday, and the johnnie walker blue experience ensures that this trip will stay with me for a long, long time.