The Bronx is Up
Went to a party last night in the East Village.
It was my friend Jack's annual Christmas party and since he's now a DJ for Luxuria Music, this year's soiree was webcast and featured go-go dancers, models in vintage clothes and other unusual touches.
Now, if you arrive fashionably late at one of Jack's parties, you're late (something I finally realized this year), so I made sure to get there early enough to get the homemade gravlax I usually miss. (Peppery exterior + delicate interior = Mmm.)
And guess what -- Jack's Christmas gathering was the event another friend abandoned me to attend back in 2001 (I hadn't met Jack yet), leaving me behind at a different party where I met Vicki, about whom I blogged yesterday. Vicki and her boyfriend (damn, that word is like a slap in the face) Chris were both at this year's wingding and I told them about yesterday's post (although I didn't tell Chris about the being in love with Vicki part).
Turns out Vicki's German friend, Hannah, who I met at one of my Edinburgh previews, had been nursing hostility toward me for some cliched German comments I made during that show, so I decided last night's first order of business was to change her mind about me. My almost instantaneous success was emblematic of my perhaps unprecedented social acceptability, which I was somehow able to maintain almost the entire night, despite and/or due to my heavy consumption of red wine and Veuve Clicquot. (I believe I'm still a little drunk some 10 hours later.) I may have pissed off a previously enthusiastic redhead toward the end of the affair by enthusing over her friend (she suddenly began pretending they were lesbian lovers) but that was my only misstep in an evening rich with beauty, conversation, good music, and cured fish.
Then, in a sleepy, drunken haze, I left Jack's apartment and stopped, I think, at Rififi (home of many of New York's best/most important comedy shows) before heading toward the subway, after which I went blank.
Until I woke up, much later, on a train in the Bronx. (I don't know why I was on that train, let alone in the Bronx.)
I didn't get it together enough to get off the train until after 7 in the morning and when I did, I discovered my wallet was missing.
Fortunately, my cash (about 13 dollars) was in my pocket rather than in the wallet (which was actually an Oyster Card holder -- oh, no -- this means I'm never gonna get my £3 Oyster Card deposit back) and my bag, in which I had my computer, was untouched. But I hafta get a new debit card before I can access any more of my money and I lost a new, weekly Metrocard which will need to be replaced.
What a pain in my already welt-laden (metaphorically speaking) ass.
But I can still remember the fun I had last night -- how people laughed warmly when I took to the go-go stage and began to dance.
Unfortunately, that memory does nothing to help me.
And I think I'm still drunk.
_____________________________________________________________
December 21, 2006, 17:09 GMT, http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer
It was my friend Jack's annual Christmas party and since he's now a DJ for Luxuria Music, this year's soiree was webcast and featured go-go dancers, models in vintage clothes and other unusual touches.
Now, if you arrive fashionably late at one of Jack's parties, you're late (something I finally realized this year), so I made sure to get there early enough to get the homemade gravlax I usually miss. (Peppery exterior + delicate interior = Mmm.)
And guess what -- Jack's Christmas gathering was the event another friend abandoned me to attend back in 2001 (I hadn't met Jack yet), leaving me behind at a different party where I met Vicki, about whom I blogged yesterday. Vicki and her boyfriend (damn, that word is like a slap in the face) Chris were both at this year's wingding and I told them about yesterday's post (although I didn't tell Chris about the being in love with Vicki part).
Turns out Vicki's German friend, Hannah, who I met at one of my Edinburgh previews, had been nursing hostility toward me for some cliched German comments I made during that show, so I decided last night's first order of business was to change her mind about me. My almost instantaneous success was emblematic of my perhaps unprecedented social acceptability, which I was somehow able to maintain almost the entire night, despite and/or due to my heavy consumption of red wine and Veuve Clicquot. (I believe I'm still a little drunk some 10 hours later.) I may have pissed off a previously enthusiastic redhead toward the end of the affair by enthusing over her friend (she suddenly began pretending they were lesbian lovers) but that was my only misstep in an evening rich with beauty, conversation, good music, and cured fish.
Then, in a sleepy, drunken haze, I left Jack's apartment and stopped, I think, at Rififi (home of many of New York's best/most important comedy shows) before heading toward the subway, after which I went blank.
Until I woke up, much later, on a train in the Bronx. (I don't know why I was on that train, let alone in the Bronx.)
I didn't get it together enough to get off the train until after 7 in the morning and when I did, I discovered my wallet was missing.
Fortunately, my cash (about 13 dollars) was in my pocket rather than in the wallet (which was actually an Oyster Card holder -- oh, no -- this means I'm never gonna get my £3 Oyster Card deposit back) and my bag, in which I had my computer, was untouched. But I hafta get a new debit card before I can access any more of my money and I lost a new, weekly Metrocard which will need to be replaced.
What a pain in my already welt-laden (metaphorically speaking) ass.
But I can still remember the fun I had last night -- how people laughed warmly when I took to the go-go stage and began to dance.
Unfortunately, that memory does nothing to help me.
And I think I'm still drunk.
_____________________________________________________________
December 21, 2006, 17:09 GMT, http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer
posted by Andrew J. Lederer at 12:18 PM
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