I haven’t been back to Houston since I left Texas and moved to New York City.
That’s a lie. I’ve been back to Houston exactly one time… for a work event… for 12 hours… where I only saw the inside of the Texans stadium, Blue Fish, and a few friends that I guilted into going to said Blue Fish for a last minute
dinner glass of wine.
Because one of my best friends was graduating from law school and (mostly) because my friends feel strongly (read: hate) about me never visiting Houston, I figured there was no time like the present.
Unfortunately, the weather did not agree (it hurricane-d all day, every day except for one fabulous sliver of outdoor drinking where I had time for exactly one Tito’s and water and one puppy make out before the lightning and thunder came rolling in).
Weather aside, we had a blast of a weekend that consisted of the following…
1) Successfully keeping my trip a secret from the law school graduate until I landed (a tough one for this group)
2) Surprising the law school graduate and making her cry (you’re a lawyer now, GET IT TOGETHER)
3) Eating too much
4) Drinking too much
5) Dancing too much
6) Trying not to die from the above and laughing/crying at the stories from our college glory days – I’ll save those for my future Chelsea Handler x Fossypants podcast series
We closed out the weekend with real human activities, like visiting the Rothko Chapel and experiencing some of the exhibits Houston’s growing art scene has to offer.
Take a short train from Manhattan and you can wander for hours around Dia Beacon. Or if you’re feeling REALLY artsy, you can pack a picnic and bike from one gigantic installation to the next at Storm King.
If you want it, NYC’s got it. It’s one of the reasons we think our city is better than everyone else’s (just kidding – kind of).
BUT, I was very impressed by Houston’s art scene. We kicked things off by taking a (rainy) walk to the Rothko Chapel. Unfortunately, snaps aren’t allowed inside, but the Rothko Chapel is half gigantic piece of art, half place of worship that was built to be completely unbiased toward any one religion (no crosses, no steeples, no colors, etc) – very cool, intriguing and kind of spooky.
strolled ran in the rain to the Menil, which I’d describe as Houston’s answer to the Whitney.
Due to copyright issues on the galleries, snaps are only allowed in the foyer so I did my best to follow the rules but had Run the Jewels’ “Lie, Cheat, Steal (Everybody’s doing it)” stuck in my head the entire time. If you have no idea what I’m talking about and have never heard of Run the Jewels, hit them up on Spotify the next time you’re having a bad day and you’ll be ready to dump your lame boyfriend, steal your unequipped boss’s job, and rule the world.
After the Menil, we hit up my only non-negotiable other than Chick-Fil-A of the weekend – the Biscuit Wall. Can you blame me? This is what I want all walls, everywhere, to look like.
Should you find yourself in Houston, here’s our rundown…
Where we ate:
Ninfas on Nav
Where we drank:
Where we played:
The Rothko Chapel
The Biscuit Wall
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