In a performance reminiscent of Michael Jordan’s famous “flu game,” when he scored 50 points in Game 5 of the 1997 NBA Finals while battling a 102-degree fever, J.R. Smith managed to get the numbers of 50 attractive women at a roofdeck party despite a crushing hangover from the previous night. “I don’t come back to New York that often so I knew I had to go out there and get it done,” Smith told some guy in front of a Halal Cart in the West Village. “They pumped me full of fluids and tried to flush this thing so that I could help out my teammates.”
“Of course, by ‘teammates’ I mean ‘my friends who kept being like yo dude, if you don’t come out we won’t be able to get into this club.'”
Smith, who had been ice-cold with women this week, managed to pull of an historic outing while visibly struggling with a painful headache. “It was so bad with all the strobe lights,” he told his Uber driver as he and three women traveled back to his hotel room. “So I made some adjustments and put on these sunglasses, which ended up making me look really cool.”
“I guess it worked,” he added.
At the start of the night, Smith seemed tentative, standing alone in the corner scrolling through his veritable encyclopedia of nude text messages photos. “Early on, I was kind of worried I might puke on whoever I talked to,” he said. “Then I just thought, dude, you’re J.R. Smith, if you puked on these women it’d be the most memorable moment of their lives.”
After a slow start, Smith seized an opportunity early in the second DJ set, striking up a conversation with a cocktail waitress. “She had tattoos, I have tattoos, so we talked about that,” he said. “Even though thinking was really difficult for me at the time, once I started mingling and what have you, instinct kicked in,” adding, “I must have looked like shit, but you know, you grind and grind and hope they don’t notice all the farting.”
Smith was lights out for the rest of the night, meeting three NYU Juniors who didn’t seem to care that he was intermittently walking away to lay down behind a couch. “He has like a million followers,” they told him while Tweeting out selfies with the Cavaliers’ shooting guard. “There’s nothing we could do.”
After pulling in his 30th phone number before 2:00 am, Smith’s teammates began to wonder whether he would surpass Wilt Chamberlain’s single-party record of 100. “I felt like we may have jinxed him,” Iman Shumpert said. “But he fell asleep standing up for a good 45 minutes, so that probably kept him from grabbing fifty more.”