"Did you remember to pick up toothpaste?" I yell from the bathroom to Jim who's packing the suitcases on our bed. He says something like "uh, yeah," but I can't quite hear. I can tell he's distracted by something. "Huh?" I ask, poking my head around the door. "Did you get toothpaste?"

"Yeah, it's in the cabinet," he says. "What's this?" he asks holding up my new travel pill case.

"It's just a pill organiser," I shrug, taking it from him. I really don't want him looking through everything else in my carry on. This was meant to be a cheap New Year's weekend away for us, and I've spent more money on all the stuff the Instagram influencers influenced me with, than on the airline tickets. Compression packing cubes, a travel steamer, new toiletry bag, make up brush covers, refillable travel pots, AirTags. I really need to cut down the time I spend doom scrolling. 

"Since when do you take pills?" he laughs, throwing the pill case onto the bed. I quickly grab it and stuff it into my case.

"Uh, you know, just some vitamins," I say casually. I really don't want him to know about the $80 I just spent on enough different types of pills to fill up the $5 case. "Are you nearly finished packing? My mom is gonna be here soon." I'm trying to hurry him up so that he stops poking about. 

"Yeah, I'm done," he says. 

I look into his half filled carry on, with what looks like no more than a change of underwear and a couple of shirts and shrug. I guess he can always buy something in the city if he needs it. I eye my own bulging carry on, as well as the oversized, not to mention overstuffed, tote I just bought and wonder if there's maybe something I should leave behind. Ok, I probably won't need two changes of underwear a day, and I know I've never worn the red shirt before and it's a little snug, but maybe I'll need them. 

We zip up the cases and head downstairs to say goodbye to the kids. Well, as goodbye as they'll let us. Cece is almost 14 now and is constantly glued to her phone, and Phil barely takes his eyes off his PS5. So they both shrug us off as if we're not going away and leaving them for the first time ever.

I know, I know. We've been married for 14 years and we've never been away from the kids together for more than a night. The timing was never right. They were so tiny when we moved to Austin, and it was a new city for us all to adjust to. And plus Jim was building Athlead up and working so hard, and we just couldn't get away. And then later the gallery took off and I just could never really take too much time off. And call us crazy, we kind of like our kids and with the limited days off we have, we like to go away as a family. We've had some great vacations with them to DisneyWorld and skiing and so many beaches I've lost count. But there's never really been much time for just me and Jim. 

My mom suddenly upping and moving to Europe with some toyboy didn't help things either. And what with Jim's dad passing away and his mom just not coping so well, there just wasn't anyone to watch the kids. And no. None of our siblings, even those with their own kids, could be trusted. But, my mom returning from Italy out of the blue, and swearing off men again, coupled with a renovation of the gallery meant that I had some extended time off and readily available childcare. And so the time finally felt right to go away just the two of us. 

We settled on a New Year's trip to New York, mainly because Jim kept making some stupid joke about New Years, New York, so nice they named it twice (yeah, it didn't make any sense to me either). But also because I haven't been back since Pratt and I wanted to see how the city has changed. 

And boy has it changed.

As soon as we step out of the cab on Bowery, the smell of weed hits us. We look at each other with wide eyes as the once familiar smell wafts around us. It's been a long time since we smoked a joint. Like, last time I was in NYC long time ago. I mean we have kids, and respectable jobs now. And mainly, we don't know where to buy it. 

As we walk up to the hotel that I'm now realising is far too trendy for us (what was I thinking booking a hotel that I've seen celebrities coming out of on Page Six's reels?) I suddenly grab his hand. "We should definitely smoke a joint while we're here," I whisper as if I'm afraid someone is going to hear me suggest a completely legal thing to my husband and either shame us or cart us off to jail.

"Absolutely we should," Jim says in an easy tone as if he's been waiting fifteen years for me to suggest it. He grabs my hand, linking his fingers through mine, to somewhat pull me into this far-too-cool-for-people-in-their-mid-40s-to-be-staying-in hotel. I don't know what it is about him, maybe from years of working with famous athletes or with PR people, but he's just so calm and confident and I feel like an awkward blob next to him. Especially now that he's got this sexy kind of short beard/long stubble thing going on and he still bikes and runs and generally looks so good. How do guys do that? Get hotter the older they get. Just don't tell him I said that, ok? 

But anyway, we check into the hotel, and after making sure that the enormous hotel bed is ok, and the massive shower works just fine, we head back out to explore the city. And also to buy the toothpaste that we forgot to bring. We've got tickets to go ice skating in Bryant Park this afternoon, so we take a slow walk uptown and that's when I realise that the smell of weed hasn't gone away. And also that every other store is a weed dispensary. 

"Should we really get some weed?" I ask a little nervously, my head rotating almost 180 degrees to stare at a store as we walk past it.  

"Why not?" Jim questions. "The kids aren't around, no work, it's legal. If we're not gonna do it now, we're never gonna do it." 

"I guess," I say with a slight whine to my voice. Why am I suddenly nervous when I was the one that suggested it? 

We don't really discuss it for the rest of the afternoon as we ice skate and wander around the Christmas market at Bryant Park, but as we walk down Sixth Avenue towards the West Village, we pass shop after shop. "So, when should we get some?" I ask, wondering when the appropriate time to smoke a joint outside of a house party is. He lifts his eyebrows to me in question. "The weed," I whisper. 

"Maybe tomorrow when we meet Isabel and John?" Jim suggests with a shrug of his shoulders. "We don't wanna be high at the show. Those tickets cost a fortune."

"Makes sense," I agree with a nod of my head. And off we go to the art exhibit I wanted to check out, followed by dinner at Via Carota (Jim's still as passionate about Italian food as ever) and really great tickets to Moulin Rouge. You know, the kind of normal things respectable adults do on a weekend away. 

--

The next day, we have this amazing brunch at Pastis in the Meatpacking District and then walk hand in hand along the Highline sipping coffee and just generally enjoying the peaceful and chilly child-free afternoon. It's been so great just the two of us, I honestly can't believe we've left it this long to get away just the two of us. 

But, it's kind of short lived as we're about to meet Isabel and her husband John. When I told Is that we'd booked a kid-free weekend in NYC for New Year's Eve, she almost dropped the phone. Turns out she had some dental convention thing in the city that weekend, and she and John were planning on staying for New Year's Eve. So of course we were going to meet up.

Jim and I jump in a cab to Central Park as that's where we're meeting Isabel and John. They're staying somewhere on the Upper East Side, and we thought a walk in a park would be nice before we head for dinner later. But jeez, Jim and I have done a lot of walking this weekend, and my thighs are so sore. Or maybe that was from last night. You know what, doesn't matter. 

As I was saying, we meet Isabel and John in Central Park, and before long the subject of smoking a joint comes up. And they are all for it. "Shall we go buy some now?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"Oh hell yeah," Isabel squeals, grabbing my hand and practically pulling me out of the park. 

We wander down a street, and of course, now that we're actually looking to buy some weed, we can't find a single store. We walk a little further, and come across a place that actually looks super cute. Isabel pushes the door open with more force than I thought she had in her and I awkwardly follow her in. I look back at Jim, but he and John are deep in conversation about some sport I can only assume, and he doesn't look bothered in the slightest about the store we're walking into. Isabel and I go over to one of the glass and untreated wood cabinets and look inside. I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't a candy store. The shelves are just full of gummies, lollipops, chocolate and cans of soda. "How about some gummies?" I whisper to Isabel in case the zero people in the empty store might hear.  

"Sounds good," she replies and walks over to the cashier.

I hover behind her awkwardly as she discusses with the assistant if we want to feel relaxed or energised, and honestly it's like I've forgotten how to talk, so I just nod along. Eventually, Isabel chooses a pack of peach gummies and because she signs up to their loyalty programme, gets a free pack of suckers too. When the cashier asks for $75 plus tax, I nearly choke a little. Why didn't I expect this to be expensive? I really don't want to spend this much money on some candy, but I guess we can't really back out now. 

We head back to the park and find a bench and Isabel rips open the gummies. She hands one to each of us and I'm still feeling super self conscious. I shove the candy into my mouth and I'm surprised that it's literally just like every gummy I've ever had before. Oh wait. That bitter aftertaste is new. But a quick swig of my Coke and the taste is gone. 

"So how long will it take to kick in?" I ask, wondering if anything is already happening to me. Doesn't really feel like it is. 

"The lady said it would be a couple of hours, but we can always have some of the sucker?" Isabel replies, searching in her purse for the small packet. I shake my head and she leaves them there.

We sit and chat, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. Isabel and I get a little giggly, but that's nothing new, and Jim sort of looks a little more relaxed than normal. But I wouldn't say we were high or anything. So we carry on just chatting, and then take another walk around the park. Before we know it, it's time for Jim and I to head back to the hotel so we can get ready for our dinner plans. As we say goodbye, Isabel opens up the packet of lollipops, takes two out and puts six gummies in, and shoves the packet into my hand. "The woman said we could take more after a few hours if nothing's happened," she tells me. We hug and wish each other Happy New Year and say that we can't wait for brunch tomorrow morning. 

Our table at Maison Pickle isn't until 7.30pm, so we decide to go and find a bar to have a few drinks beforehand. We stumble across this cute little Tiki bar that gives me flashbacks to my time at Pratt, and they have an open table. Jim gets some crazy drink that's in a glass shaped like a shark, and I'm a little jealous that my piña colada style drink is just in a regular hurricane glass. Another round later, and I'm feeling a little tipsy, but I wouldn't say high. "Shall we take another one?" I ask Jim, but he shushes me. "What?" I ask, looking in my purse for the small packet that Isabel gave me. 

"We can't eat them here," Jim hisses at me, trying to push the packet back into my purse. 

"Why not?" I question, pulling it out again. "It's legal, and it's not like anyone will care," I say, looking around the pretty crowded bar that's full of people a lot younger than us. "No one's looking at the old guys."

"Ok, fine," he relents and holds out his hand. We both quickly shove a gummy into our mouths, and literally no one has taken a blind bit of notice of us. 

I'm a little disappointed. Still nothing. What a waste of money.

We head over to the restaurant and we have to wait a little while for our table to be ready. When we finally sit down, this hunger overcomes me and it's like I need to order everything. I've been told their bread is amazing and that the mac and cheese is a must have. So while Jim is still deciding what he wants, I order the honey bread and try to read the rest of the menu. Everything has gone a little fuzzy, but I'm sure it's just the dim light and the fact that my contact lenses are feeling a little dry. The bread arrives and I literally start to devour it. Literally I can't get enough. I'm tearing this bread apart, and my hands are so sticky, but I don't care, I just need to eat it. 

The waiter comes over and between mouthfuls of bread, we each order one of their famous French dip sandwiches, and I rush out an order of the mac and cheese that we definitely don't need. As the waiter leaves, I realise how full I am already from the bread, but I can't tell Jim that. I think he's only had like two pieces of the bread, and I'm kinda mad at him that he stole my bread away from me. 

Before I have too long to dwell on that fact, the waiter is back with so much food and I have no idea how I'm going to eat it all. But the sandwich looks so good and after one bite, my god, I can confirm it's as good as it looks. I quickly demolish one half of it, dipping it into the little pot of jus, but that's when I notice Jim isn't dipping his. So I question him on it. 

"It's just making the bread all wet," he says simply and he's so right. 

Everything's getting a little fuzzier and all I know is I don't want soggy bread, so I just start picking out the rare roast beef. I try a little of the mac and cheese and it tastes pretty good, but honestly, I'm so full, I can't really eat anything. I also need the bathroom. Or did I just go? I'm really not sure.

I push the rest of my food around, and dig into the mac and cheese a little to make it look like I ate some of it. And honestly I'm really not sure what's going on anymore. I feel like I'm talking really loudly, but also not saying anything. But that doesn't make any sense, does it? Or does it? 

Next thing I know, we're walking to the subway. When did we leave the restaurant? I'm holding Jim's hand tightly as he guides me down the steps and we wait on the platform. "Are you feeling anything?" he asks me. "Because I don't think anything's kicked in for me." 

"Uhh, maybe," I lie. The subway is starting to spin and I'm feeling like I've fallen off a cliff. Then it hits me that a gummy is an edible, which is the same as weed brownies and I hated those. Why oh why did we buy gummies? This is by far the most terrible life decision I've ever made. Ok, maybe saying ‘I can't' to Jim all those years ago was a bigger mistake, but this one is definitely up there.  

"Oh my god, can you imagine if we don't get seats on the subway?" Jim laughs, jolting me from my self-imposed spiral of doom. 

"That's ridiculous," I laugh. Why would he say something like that? Of course we're going to get seats. We have to get seats. 

Suddenly I'm pushed into a crowded subway car and I'm sandwiched between various people. Jim has his arm around me as I'm basically shoved up against his side. And all I can think is this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. 

Somehow we make it to Times Square and we're walking along a busy street that I didn't know we were on, when suddenly I need dessert. Or like chocolate and sugar. Just something sweet. I need it more than anything I've ever needed before. But where can we get it from? And then I see a Target and it's like all my dreams are coming true and I head towards it, but Jim stops me. "Why are we going to Target?" he asks. 

"Because I need dessert," I say, stating the obvious. What is wrong with him? 

"Target isn't going to have dessert," he replies, tugging on my arm and trying to get me to where we're meant to be going, which is to watch the ball drop in some fancy VIP section that he got tickets from one of his fancy athletes or their fancy managers. I don't know. I just know it gets us a good spot and champagne.  

What is he talking about? Of course Target will have dessert. "What are you talking about? Of course Target will have dessert," I tell him before basically dragging him inside. I stalk down the far too brightly lit main aisle looking for this magical dessert, which of course doesn't exist. Even their candy sucks. What am I going to do? I need sugar. Eventually I find a pack of Trü Frü and I swear it has a golden glow around it and it's everything I never knew I always wanted.

As soon as we get outside into the cold air, I tear into my packet of chocolate covered strawberry pieces and Jim is eating some candy bar that I didn't realise he'd bought. I'll just eat one of the strawberries I tell myself, but then I need to have another, and another. While I'm debating with myself if it's ok to eat the whole pack and if I should because I'm feeling kind of sick, Jim pipes up that he's still not feeling high. 

"I'm gonna take another gummy," he says as he starts to look in my purse that's still tucked under my arm. "Want one?" 

Absofuckinglutely not. I couldn't think of anything worse right now. My head is spinning, I feel sick, I can't work out if I want to sleep or go dancing, and my eyes hurt. This is my life forever now. How did I get it all so wrong? "Um, no, I'm ok thanks. I think it's kicked in."

He shrugs at me and chews another gummy before we head off to wherever we're meant to be going. Jim expertly guides me through the crows and without me realising it, we're in the VIP section and someone is offering me a glass of champagne.

"Oh my god," Jim whispers to me, "we need to leave." 

"What? Why?" I ask, the champagne flute halfway to my lips. I look at him and he looks like he's about to vomit. 

"I think the ball is gonna fall on us," he says more seriously than I think I've ever heard him say before. He glances up to the waiting ball, that is so far away from us, in absolute terror.  

"What?" I ask in complete disbelief of what he's saying. 

"Please," he begs me, starting to pull on his hair so it's sticking up in all directions.

"Ok," I say, putting my glass down on the high table next to me and grabbing his hand. I really don't want to leave, we had such good seats and I know they'll be taken by the time, hopefully, we come back. 

As soon as we get out of the enclosure, Jim crouches down on the ground amid the crowds rushing around him and I can't work out if he's about to vomit or have a panic attack or both. So I just quietly rub his back and help him breathe. "Do you want to go back to the hotel?" I ask after a while, kinda hoping he'll say yes, as I could really do with a nap. 

"I think I'm ok," he says as he stretches to his full height, towering above me. "Let's go back in," he suggests, blowing his cheeks out to help him not vomit. By some miracle, we get the same seats we had, and as someone starts performing on stage, I just close my eyes a little so that I'll make it to midnight.

I honestly couldn't tell you where we were when the ball dropped, and Jim couldn't either. The next morning we wake up far too early in the clothes that we went out in the night before, and the curtains in the bedroom are still open. I feel terrible. "Why did you let me eat so much chocolate?" I whine at Jim. 

"Where did you get chocolate from?" he asks as he heads towards the bathroom.

"From Target," I say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"When did we go to Target?" he exclaims in complete shock as he pokes his head around the bathroom door.

"Before you had that freak out," I reply from the bed. 

"Oh god," he groans as if I've just reminded him of everything that happened last night. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he moans and the bathroom door slams shut.

I focus on pulling myself together and somehow we make it to Jack's Wife Freda to meet Isabel and John for brunch, although I'm not entirely sure how as I don't remember any of the journey. I think I'm still high. Is that possible? 

When we get there, they're already at our table and Isabel waves to us over enthusiastically. I slink into the corner booth and basically drop my head to the table. "You ok there," Isabel laughs at me. 

"Fucking gummies," I groan and the others laugh at me, even Jim who seems to have rallied somehow. 

The waiter comes to take our order and as soon as he brings me a cup of the refillable coffee, I know I can't talk to anyone. This is the most incredible thing I've ever tasted and I need more of it in my life. I down my first cup and wave him over for a refill. The others stare at me as I down another cup before they've barely taken a sip of their first. I don't care. I just need to always be drinking this coffee. 

Our food finally arrives, three coffees later, and all I can focus on is eating the Madame Freda toasted sandwich as quickly as humanly possible, like it's my life's mission. Finally it's gone and I feel like I deserve a gold medal or some sort of prize. I finally get rewarded with another cup of coffee and I feel happy. But also like I need to pee a lot. So I do. When I get back to the table, I see the others are just finishing up their meals and seem to be doing a lot better than I am.

"You doing ok there hun?" Isabel asks me as I put my head on the table. 

"If this is what 2024 is like, I really want to stay in 2023," I groan as the others let out a chuckle.