NYC was fab, altho I just kinda wandered around in my poncho tossing wads of cash in random directions--
(at one point while I was still on the Ice Planet of Buffalo, I extricated some cashish out of an ATM & was pleasantly surprised to find that my balance was considerably plumper than I'd estimated, so I was a bit more reckless with the funds than I might've been otherwise. returning home, however, I found out that the chap who was cat & house-sitting for me had deposited his Income Tax refund in my bank account so that I could get the cash for him on my return. thus I am, at present, broker than I've been in a while.)
found a few shows that I really would've liked to go to, but couldn't, including: Cat Power at the Knitting Factory (sold out), Hank III at CBGB's (same same), & Sarah Jones' new one-woman show in previews (didn't find out about it until the day I was supposed to fly out)
(the partner & I had seen SJ's previous show, Surface Transit, while she was still tinkering with it at the Nuyorican a few years back)
Cat Power & Hank III were both on the same night, & when I couldn't get into either I ended up going to Arlene Grocery, which is pretty much a default place for me when I'm in the mood for loud live music & sweating gyrating youngsters & either can't get into or afford anyplace else. that particular night they had Punk Rock Karaoke, which was kinda fun, & I was interviewed by a Brit working for the Columbia Journalism Review which, coincedentally enough, I'd subscribed to a week or so before the trip.
also spent a blissful few hours in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (followed up by a couple of hours sort of shuffling around in a Culture-glutted stupor, in an effort to suck my full 12 dollars worth of admission out of the place)
also: kids--hearken to my words:
buying drugs is bad, wrong, silly & stupid.
specifically: buying drugs in proximity of Times Square is exponentially more bad, wrong, silly & stupid.
I KNOW this, & yet..well, I do dumb things sometimes.
anyway, I was wandering around Times Square with quite a few beers under my belt (& one in my hand), when I was approached by an entrepenuer offering illicit pharmaceutical experience.
I demurred. he was rather persistent.
knowing, deep down, that I was going to get ripped off, but in an inebriated "what-the-fuck" sort of mood, I inquired about E (which I'd never tried, & have yet to, but figuring "what better time to try a new mind-altering substance than in a strange city where I don't know anybody?" ) indeed.
(as noted: Just say No, kids. also: when a peddler prefaces a transaction with the phrase "try before you buy" that this never ever ever happens. ever. never ever ever. trust me on this.)
anyway, what happened was I gave the chap a twenty & he said to meet him around the corner in a few minutes, knowing full well that I'd never see him again.
I went around the corner & stood at a payphone, sipping my beer, thinking I'd give him maybe 10 minutes & then split, a Wiser but Slightly Poorer Person.
after a few minutes, a voice asked me if I was using the payphone. I was not, & told the voice to go right ahead.
then I noticed that the voice had a badge attached to it.
Shit! thought I. shitshitSHIT!
"Would you please place the beer on the sidewalk & put out your cigarette?"
a montage of several seasons of COPS began unspooling in my head. enterpreneureal dude was an undercover cop, a motherfucking COP!, & I was screwed, baby, screwed.
voice with the badge asked for my id & had me stand across the street, by his undercover copcar, while he & his partner did whatever it is that cops do.
this took about half an hour, during which the businessman with whom I was set to rendezvous bopped past, looking for me.
eventually, the cops gave me a ticket ("Open Container of Alcohol") & my id & drove off.
being an idiot, I circled the block a few more times looking for the dealer. after about 20 minutes, we spotted each other & I explained what'd happened.
we ducked into a porno shop & he said that the guy he was dealing with had only a 65$ bag--I gave him what cash I had--about 25$ in addition to the 20 I'd already given him, & he passed me a crumpled brown paper bag & we parted ways.
I got on the subway & opened the bag to find: tobacco.
what do you do when you pay 45$ for a bag of tobacco? why, you grab a handful & shove it in your mouth, of course!
thus the evening more or less concluded with self experiencing a rather intense nicotine high whilst on the subway, & then publicly vomiting once disgorged somewhere in the region of Christopher Street.
ah, good times.
so again: drugs are bad.
(at one point while I was still on the Ice Planet of Buffalo, I extricated some cashish out of an ATM & was pleasantly surprised to find that my balance was considerably plumper than I'd estimated, so I was a bit more reckless with the funds than I might've been otherwise. returning home, however, I found out that the chap who was cat & house-sitting for me had deposited his Income Tax refund in my bank account so that I could get the cash for him on my return. thus I am, at present, broker than I've been in a while.)
found a few shows that I really would've liked to go to, but couldn't, including: Cat Power at the Knitting Factory (sold out), Hank III at CBGB's (same same), & Sarah Jones' new one-woman show in previews (didn't find out about it until the day I was supposed to fly out)
(the partner & I had seen SJ's previous show, Surface Transit, while she was still tinkering with it at the Nuyorican a few years back)
Cat Power & Hank III were both on the same night, & when I couldn't get into either I ended up going to Arlene Grocery, which is pretty much a default place for me when I'm in the mood for loud live music & sweating gyrating youngsters & either can't get into or afford anyplace else. that particular night they had Punk Rock Karaoke, which was kinda fun, & I was interviewed by a Brit working for the Columbia Journalism Review which, coincedentally enough, I'd subscribed to a week or so before the trip.
also spent a blissful few hours in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (followed up by a couple of hours sort of shuffling around in a Culture-glutted stupor, in an effort to suck my full 12 dollars worth of admission out of the place)
also: kids--hearken to my words:
buying drugs is bad, wrong, silly & stupid.
specifically: buying drugs in proximity of Times Square is exponentially more bad, wrong, silly & stupid.
I KNOW this, & yet..well, I do dumb things sometimes.
anyway, I was wandering around Times Square with quite a few beers under my belt (& one in my hand), when I was approached by an entrepenuer offering illicit pharmaceutical experience.
I demurred. he was rather persistent.
knowing, deep down, that I was going to get ripped off, but in an inebriated "what-the-fuck" sort of mood, I inquired about E (which I'd never tried, & have yet to, but figuring "what better time to try a new mind-altering substance than in a strange city where I don't know anybody?" ) indeed.
(as noted: Just say No, kids. also: when a peddler prefaces a transaction with the phrase "try before you buy" that this never ever ever happens. ever. never ever ever. trust me on this.)
anyway, what happened was I gave the chap a twenty & he said to meet him around the corner in a few minutes, knowing full well that I'd never see him again.
I went around the corner & stood at a payphone, sipping my beer, thinking I'd give him maybe 10 minutes & then split, a Wiser but Slightly Poorer Person.
after a few minutes, a voice asked me if I was using the payphone. I was not, & told the voice to go right ahead.
then I noticed that the voice had a badge attached to it.
Shit! thought I. shitshitSHIT!
"Would you please place the beer on the sidewalk & put out your cigarette?"
a montage of several seasons of COPS began unspooling in my head. enterpreneureal dude was an undercover cop, a motherfucking COP!, & I was screwed, baby, screwed.
voice with the badge asked for my id & had me stand across the street, by his undercover copcar, while he & his partner did whatever it is that cops do.
this took about half an hour, during which the businessman with whom I was set to rendezvous bopped past, looking for me.
eventually, the cops gave me a ticket ("Open Container of Alcohol") & my id & drove off.
being an idiot, I circled the block a few more times looking for the dealer. after about 20 minutes, we spotted each other & I explained what'd happened.
we ducked into a porno shop & he said that the guy he was dealing with had only a 65$ bag--I gave him what cash I had--about 25$ in addition to the 20 I'd already given him, & he passed me a crumpled brown paper bag & we parted ways.
I got on the subway & opened the bag to find: tobacco.
what do you do when you pay 45$ for a bag of tobacco? why, you grab a handful & shove it in your mouth, of course!
thus the evening more or less concluded with self experiencing a rather intense nicotine high whilst on the subway, & then publicly vomiting once disgorged somewhere in the region of Christopher Street.
ah, good times.
so again: drugs are bad.
anyways.... excellent job!