I never snuck out of the house as a kid, but I did a few times when I was 23. It was because of Heather, who would text me at midnight and tell me, “party. boys. be there in an hour.” This meant waking up, turning my pjs into club clothes, calling a black towncar, and creeping from the brownstone where everyone was asleep. I loved it.
I would get lost a lot, but Heather always knew where we were going. She could find her way to cheap booze or good music in the dark, and sometimes in the rain. She went everywhere; she knew everyone; she chain smoked but never bought cigarettes.
One morning at sunrise we stumbled into a strange apartment (this sounds crazy but it wasn’t; we heard about sunrise parties all the time). A boy came out with a bottle of vodka and I realized he was a fashion kid and we shrieked and we hugged. The next week Heather dragged me out, but I dragged her home, with a different boy. We watched Back to the Future at 5 am and Heather passed out and the boy and I held hands.
In the morning in the elevator, Heather said, “I think you’ve found your scene. You don’t need me anymore!” But of course, I always will.
[HAPPY BIRTHDAY HEATHER!!!!!!]