I hit three boros in search of a good time, today, and found it in spades.
The morning, I woke up relatively early, considering the time spent out with Bethany last night, and since my whole apartment is currently incredibly clean, I had little to do other than marvel at its cleanliness, shower, and go out to party for the day. It's saturday, and I can't drum up business in my apartment on a Saturday, so away I went.
First stop on the day was PS1. For the uninitiated, like me, PS1 is an art gallery that used to be a schoolhouse, where, during the summer, they host a series called "warm up" which features all the art in the galleries (some of it quite brilliant), have an outdoor "chill" area, where they have fans, overhead mist making machines, and showerheads, in addition to big gauzy coverings so we don't burn. Oh, and it's got "hipsters."
The neighborhood that houses PS1 seemed quiet and pleasant enough, I didn't really get a chance to explore. But as we all got off the F train, and by all I mean Bethany and I and all of our clones, suddenly looking both ways in bewilderment, most of us thinking "which way is this place" and "is this a dangerous neighborhood, I've never been to Queens." As we surfaced and looked around 44th street, you could tell, quite obviously, who was going where. It was really march of the hipster lemmings. Everybodies sunglasses were $200 a pair, or looked that way, the bodies were almost exclusively young, firm and dressed in shabby chic, the "it may look like I got this stuff at the Salvation Army, but really, it's Prada" look that is perfect for a Saturday in queens. There were pleasant old women out for walks, neighborhood guys sitting on stoops and us, the hipster lemmings, all marching in search of the next good time.
When Bethany and I got there, we met Morgan at the front area, and meandered through the art gallery. I can't say how much fun I had, because if I _were_ to say it, you'd all go and then next week when I go back, I won't be able to get in. For a hint, I said to Bethany "remember this face, it's not often you see me grinning like a complete idiot."
The art was good. You had to be on your guard, though, some of the artists were sneaky and put installations in the floor (yes, in, not on) or on the ceiling, and it was just exactly the sort of art that I love: engaging.
After playing in the Honeycomb Hideout for a few hours (long since having bored Bethany and Morgan) we met in the courtyard and went to dance. I danced my poor little ass off for a good four hours, until some prick stepped on my foot and got angry because my foot was under his when he was trying to dance, I had a few choice words with him, and left before I got my ass kicked.
Next stop was home to shower. I found that I'd been dancing for four hours.
I got a call from Tommy at that point, that I should meet him at a friends house for dinner, and that he'd join me in going out to Peter's house for a party. The dinner was on a rooftop in TriBeCa, the homeowner quite obviously a multimillionaire, and the cookout was incredible. A gathering of maybe 10 people, and more kept showing up, and there was still plenty of food to go around. Totally amazing.
From there, it was off to Peter's party, just before the flats in Brooklyn, which had a theme that I can't remember, but which featured swimming pools, a live jazz band and a rooftop. "Swanky" is the first word that comes to mind, but that's not the right word. The live jazz was good, the rooftop was good, the swimming pools were inscrutable. There was an incident with a camera that will go unmentioned on here, and I met several people whom I'd seen before but never spoken to. Now that so many of my friends are either gone, or becoming homebodies, or not speaking to me for one reason or another, I'm lonely, a bit, but also just going out and meeting new people is good for its own sake, I guess.
Lily was there, and she's always cool, and Jessica and Genevieve and it
started to become a flashback to last night.
After that party, we finished the night at Chaos. The sad part was that it didn't look like many people were having much fun, and I don't know who the DJ was, but I prefered the guys at PS1. I blame the scene as much as I blame Giuliani's crackdown. There were a lot of women wearing very little and trying to hit on men all in the 'dress code' and big and buff and... it's a scene. They really looked like they weren't having fun, though, and we were in the upper level (Vip? SuperVIP? I don't know, I'm new at all this) although that look may be attributed to the night getting later and later. I did watch one couple go from hello to a couch in a span of 3 minutes, after which I was treated to a show. It was precisely what you expect out of a club in the summer of 2001, and I did get to network with a bunch of people who were looking to hand cards around, which is always good. I spent a bit talking to a bouncer, who was very impressed with my whole striking-out-on-my-own thing, and a handful of people who need lawyers, and some who don't even know that they do. Lawyers are a lot like doctors about several things - if you come in early before whatever you've got has become a full on problem, you save yourself a huge headache and a huge amount of time. Mind you, very few people go to the doctor for preventative advice, and lots go to one for "ok, so what is this big red splotch on my nose" advise. Well, we'll see if anything flips.
And now, as I'm writing this, a bit tired, I am listening to the Gorillaz album, thanks to Chris-san. Don't forget to subscribe today!
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