A.K.A – The Lindsey Lohan Story

This one tends to be a crowd pleaser and thankfully enough time has passed allowing me to share all the details of it. I’m going to jump into it so you’ll have to read my other stories to gather more background as I’m not going chronologically with any of these EPIC CRUMB stories – on purpose.

Late 2000s I’m working at a company in NYC where every 6 months we had a creative arts grad school send us a new batch of Graphic Design students to slave away for us as interns. That was something we all looked forward to as it brought in some fresh blood and occasionally a character or two.

Our office in NYC was located in a “up and coming” neighborhood during a time things were changing from rundown & edgy to urban chic. These were the days when high end places were next to shady dives playing porn on the TVs just to mess with people. Each month the office hosted a 3 hour open bar for the staff at one of these dives (not playing porn) across the street from the office that was infamous for only hiring beautiful people – all struggling actors/actresses that couldn’t make a drink if their life depended on it… but put a F-ton of booze in it so who cared.

With the fall semester in full swing a new batch of interns roll in. Just on the heels of our upcoming monthly HH

Normally I’m one of the first people at the bar but that night I had to finish a few things up so I roll in a little  late with the party in full swing.

Upon entering the bar a few mock cheers go up because – typically – I was the unofficial social chairs and liked to instigated shenanigans.

Knowing I had to play catch up on drinks I immediately hit up the bar – before even saying hello to anyone (we all know how that goes when you – say hi first).

Aaand now….  Time to double fist pint glass size Stoyli-Soda w/ a lemon wedge

Having my hands full I just said hello to a couple people as I surveyed the crowd trying to figure out who I wanted to talk to and who I wanted to avoid from the office. As I’m doing that the office operations manager comes up to me and says “… please no flip-cup, card games, water gun or nerf wars tonight, we need to look classy in front of new the interns.” I response back with something sarcastic & witty, then quickly assured her I’ll make sure everyone keeps it “classy”.

Mere seconds later one of the production leads taps me on the shoulder to introduce a few of the new interns. In the group was a brilliant, tall, fit, curvy in all the right places – blonde named Samantha, from the UK. Without hesitation she stepped up and introduced herself first saying she heard with the office manager said with a few other cheeky remarks tossed in. I knew from the first witty pun made at me we’d get to know each other a much better that night.

A bit late seeing me still double fisting drinks she walks over with two drinks of her own. She remarks “ I figure if this is a team building event it only makes sense to emotionally support your brilliant habits”.

As the night progressed Sam and I continuously kept crossing paths with each other – exchanging at first:
– just a smile
– then progressing to winks
– followed by a few witty comments
– then a little casual touch trying to get by me

All leading to her asking me what I’m doing after the open bar ends.  

Sh*t progressed from there. We end up as the last ones there, chatting it up, then heading back to the office to grab our coats. It being about 8:30pm no one (we think) is in the office, so we grab both our items and start heading towards the exit. In my head I’m thinking “man I’m drunk where am I taking this girl – it’s only Wednesday” As I’m about to say something she grabs my hand and pulls me into a conference room. We start making out and before I knew it her bra is coming off; my pants are being un-done and a video projector gets pushed off the table.

About 5 minutes into it I have a brief moment of clarity and panic a bit. Stopping wasn’t really an option, as it could have triggered a negative reaction. Furthermore, if anyone was still in the office, I’d be totally f’ed so I figured might as well go down in a blaze of glory. Knowing that this was still a awesome but terrible idea the only solution was to make her cum as quickly as possible and then fake it on my end if I wasn’t there yet.

Magic ensues, and we do our version of “7 minutes to heaven”.

At the end of it we both start laughing about how we will likely have bruises all over our bodies from the hard metal table and wires n’ stuff we rolled around in.

I then peek my head outside the door to make sure the coast is clear and sneak us through the office to the staircase and out the fire exit door (knowing people disarmed it to smoke cigarettes on breaks). Upon exiting the building, a bit more of the reality of what just happened sinks in. We are both freaking out – worried about who might have seen or heard us. We both agree that it might be best to call it a night so we can be at our best tomorrow showing up on time.  

Next day comes and nothing is mentioned!!!

I even came to find out the room we were in was nearly soundproof so – no harm, no foul.

Fast forward now about 8 weeks. After that wild first night Sam and I agreed to keep things between us strictly outside of the office. Overall things cooled down a bit as we both had busy schedules and knew her internship was only 6 months in total.

That said, with the end of year approaching I wanted to still relive some of that 1^st night fun. In December there are a lot of holiday events and parties going on. That year, the big one a lot of people were talking about was the “MySpace Christmas Party” (yes I know how old that sounds) being hosted at a posh club in the Meat Packing District. Headlining it was a newly famous lesbian DJ named Samantha Ronson. What got her – her 15 minutes wasn’t really her DJ skills, rather the fact she was dating Hollywood actress Lindsay Lohan. (Google her exploits in the late 2000s early 2010s if not familiar)

So in receiving my invite I work the ability to bring a plus one so I can invite my Sam. She enthusiastically says yes, and we put together a plan to make a full night out of it.

Now this party is being thrown on the first Friday in December from 5pm to 10pm.

So it’s cold and right after work.

NYC Meat Packing was never really my scene. At that time I didn’t care if Kim Kardashian or Paris Hilton went to a spot or not.

I just wasn’t a fan of chasing the party.

You could find attractive people at most places in Manhattan so I’m not waiting on a massive line outside in the cold with idiots.

Day of the party Sam and I sync up for lunch. She’s tells me she’s taking a half day to go home, freshen up – change… (do girl stuff).  We’ll meet at the spot later.

So now it’s 6 something, and we are both happy everything planned worked out. She’s all dressed up and I’m feeling good with life so we start to enjoy the night. Walking in the place it’s packed in one area but still lots of room as it’s a large venue so… we think – no biggie. After we get past coat check and security we do a walk around to scope things out.

The Scene

• Huge dance floor and DJ / Performance area taking up half the place.
• Decent length bar (maybe 20 ppl wide)
• A bunch of little beverage islands
• Then small & narrow VIP room in the back that could maybe fit about 40 ppl

The Reality of It

• From the moment we walked in the music was super depressing. It sounded like the type of stuff abused woman put on and cry to combined with beat-riffs you might akin to a heroine den at 4am – with a touch of “I cut myself just to feel” EMO mixed in.
• The main (and only) bar had 2 bartenders
• The little drink islands were not staffed or setup or they were just floating out there
• The food was set up in the VIP room featuring a giant charcuterie board (taking up half the room) and 4 hot catering trays

If this would have been a small, intimate party of 150 people or less no complaints. But they packed about 400+ people in this venue and things were getting chippy with everyone in there.

Waiting on line for drinks was a 20 min+ process, so double fisting (again) was required.

We even joked around about how some of the most interesting nights occur when we double down on drinks. 

Worth noting in this story, we also piggybacked a few rounds of shots with people we knew standing in line for the bar. We knew things might be annoying throughout the night.

With drinks in hand I joked to Sam “I scoped out the food – or lack there of – and likely won’t be eating dinner tonight – so drink up!”.

I did feel sorry for the people waiting to get food. No one had the heart to tell her them there were no tables or chairs were set up. So good luck trying to eat your pasta or whatever….

Although likely done on purpose – It was mildly entertaining to watch the growing number of people struggling their way through the overlapping food/bar lines, trying to balance holding a buckling paper plate of food, then initially seeing the joy of emerging successfully, only to turn to sadness when they realize there’s nowhere to comfortably eat.

A few people just said F-it and tossed the food. Others just wandered around aimlessly talking out loud as if someone would show them the answer.

The only place to escape to was the dance floor. No one was dancing to the music so plenty of space. As we were finishing a round of drinks my Sam says she has to go to the restroom and then she’ll get us another round. I say I’ll go with her but she told me to stay so I can mingle / network a bit.

I’m thinking “Great I guess I’ll see you in 20 to 30 minutes”

The same time my Sam is walking away none other than Lindsay Lohan walks in through the fire exit near the DJ booth. LL walks over to her DJ girlfriend, says a few words… and all of a sudden good music starts playing.

I’m stuck out on the dance floor now nursing my last slip of bourbon and trying to get motivated to bust out my wannabe Justin Timberlake dance moves.

As I’m hanging out <half dancing> Ms. Lohan comes out to the dance floor walking in my general area.

I square off to her from about 12 feet away and start to peacock a bit busting out some moves.

She take a step closer I take a step closer – 6 feet away now

I’m looking around at this moment for my date. The only thoughts going through my head at this time is “someone needs to take a picture of this”

Next thing I knew I turn back around and we are dancing face-to-face with one another.

I thought it was funny.

Even though at that time she had a bit of a party girl label put on her, I figured the fact she became a lesbian and her girlfriend standing 15 feet away: I’d be clear of any wrong doing or false accusation of trying to hook up with her.

Plus I wanted a photo.

Only a handful of people had the iPhone at that time so no selfies

So now a couple minutes pass and the next song comes on. It’s was one of those booty shaking (WHAT WHAT) joints and Lindsay’s ass buries itself right in my crouch.

I try to spin her around and mix up the dance moves but a few seconds later – back to the booty shaker butt grinding.

So my mind starts to wander and I roll with it for a second. Still looking around to see where my girl or anyone else was there I knew.

Then suddenly with my right hand kinda hanging out to the side of her midriff…

She drops it like it’s hot <gettin low, gettin low> while leaning down into me

My hand catches a full cup of titty as she’s almost falling back into me.

Of course, the saucy Brit comes back at exactly that second and sees me grabbing her boob.

I don’t even want to think what was going through everyone’s head at that moment. Knowing full well that the person I’m touching (NOT ON PURPOSE) has the reputation of getting after it and having the after-party in her pants.

And then shit went off the rails. Sammy the Brit flips out, smashes a drink on the floor, and starts yelling at me thinking I’m hooking up with Lindsay Lohan.

I will say there is a unique, all be it, confusing to fully understand grandeur to the way British people curse. Over the years a few of these obscure words have made it into my vocabulary (mostly just to mess with people and have them dwell on certain things, similar to this moment).

Well next thing you knew security swarms around the British chick and me.

LL, giving zero Fks, casually strolls away.

We get quickly escorted off the dancefloor towards the exit ASAP. Thankfully I had the coat check stubs in my back pocket. As one of the security guys wanted us to come back the next day to pick up our coats. Slammin Sammy, was having nothing to do with that suggestion and shifted her angry towards him berating him for 30 seconds allowing me to run over to the coat check and get the coats.

A minute later we have our coats and the entire security staff sees us up and out to the front door.

Walking up the stairs to exit I’m trying to make a simple case that I had no intention of touching or doing anything with Lindsay Lohan – which fell on deaf ears, so the insults kept coming from her.

Then at the main exit doors the guy in charge assigns one bouncer to each of us, asking them to walk us down the block in separate directions.

Samantha’s last words to me were “I hope you get a STD F%%$-ing  Lindsay Lohan later you wanker”

As I’m walking down the street passed all the people waiting to get in there I start hearing people commenting to one another “did that guy just F- Lindsay Lohan?”

That Monday at work I thought I’d nip things in the bud and approached Sam to curtail any professional fallout. The short 45 second conversation we had netted out to be:

“Let’s just not talk or acknowledge each other for the next 2 months I’ll continue to be in the office. It was a personal matter and won’t affect either one of us here.”

Looking back at the whole thing, this is how I feel about the whole situation

Shortly after this happened LL broken up with her girlfriend.