Listen, when I lived in Orlando, brunch was a time that was coveted by many people. If you could not make brunch at Ember for Sunday Fun-Day, you were having a serious case of FOMO (fear of missing out, for those of you who may not know). Here in Manhattan, you can turn the corner and find brunch at the nearest Dunkin Donuts for all you know.

This time of day that falls at the quintessential hour. This meal. This gathering of momos, straights, trans-folk and all sorts of people. This is a time of fellowship. Can I get an amen from my fellow brunchers? Literally all of NYC should be saying “amen” right about now. It’s a thing here.

Brunch is all about drinking as many mimosas, margaritas or bloody Marys as you can within the seemingly short 90-minute race, or plotting with your gal pals about going to see Chicago on Broadway over the coming weeks. Shout out to my friend who made this promise to our small, fun-filled group, and you know who you are—I’m holding you to it. It’s in writing, ya hear … or … see? 😉

After the marathon of unlimited spirits and the bloated stomachs from eating too much delicious food, one would think that it would be all over and time to take a nap. Nope! It’s time for more. Time to see which bar or lounge we can hit next in order to continue this celebration that happens only once a week—well, twice a week, depending on how badly brunch is calling your name.

After my posse and I were finished engorging ourselves at Fonda in Chelsea, we decided that we were going to this open-air bar right in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen called Atlas Social Club. It was great! It seemed as though the small bowl of Chex Mix sitting at the lounge table at the front was working miracles and casting out drunken demons, because we were able to continue and be fine for more. It was amazing!

Since we were feeling great and carrying on our brunch day, we ended the day at Therapy. For those of you who do not know, Therapy is more than a wonderful session with a professional counselor. It’s also a gay nightclub on 52nd Street. Instead of a trained psychologist or psychiatrist listening to what you have going on in your life, you are venting, laughing, crying and much more with your old and new friends who are throwing one back with you, all while watching a drag show on the stage of the second story.

Needless to say, brunch is more than just a meal here in fabulous NYC: It’s a staple. There are hundreds of restaurants that concoct an immaculate meal, and I’m ready to experience them all—and then hit the gym right after, because I do not want to gain the LBs. Who’s with me?

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