Alphabet Soup

It's ironic, I suppose, that I can conquer 360 miles of unfamiliar road and nearly kill my first pedestrian two doors from where I'm going to be staying. Hey, this is New York... far worse probably happened to my victim that day than somebody braking a car in his rough direction.

The delectable Kristina played host to me for the weekend, at her apartment in a totally non-shitty part of Brooklyn. She ordered Thai take-out while I showered off my car sweat, then two gay guys called her to say it was their last night here so she should wear a little something that showed off her boobs. God bless non-threatening males and ladies that dress to accentuate their best assets: together you make my world a happier place!



We took a cab over to The Clubhouse, at the corner of 9th and C. I've only been out in Alphabet City a couple of times, to the Lakeside Lounge and restaurants - before the no-smoking rule, naturally. Smokers are going to smoke, even if they have to stand out in the rain to do it. As expressions of freedom go, it's a relatively inexpensive one - especially if you live in Virginia, the home of tobacco! So it's hard to adjust to the fact that I'm allowed to both smoke and drink there now, as long as I don't want to do them simultaneously.

I forgot to carry my I.D. This is a really inconvenient habit of mine. I've been legally drinking for thirteen years now, so it just doesn't occur to me that the god of alcohol is suddenly going to reject my libation. Luckily, I've been in this situation before so I knew to hang on to Kristina's arm, turn my accent up to 11 and tell the bouncer I was over here on "holiday" (not "vacation") to see my girlfriend. I was in like Flynn!

Kristina sells wine, so we'd opened a bottle before we went out. Her Irish associates bought rounds of beer at the bar and I ordered 7&7s, as usual. It took me until Saturday afternoon to remember these details. I'm not an abusive drunk so I trust myself to an extent when my memory fails. I also trust the people around me to let me know if I'm crossing any lines. I wonder what else I did or said that night that I can't remember?

I do remember meeting fellow Brits Danny and Steve, and being a little too interested in their sex life. There are so many intolerant people in the world, I can sometimes be too eager to balance the scales. I remember all kinds of philosophical questions, such as how to reconcile the occasional gay man realizing that he likes girls after all (which just happened to a friend of a friend back home) with the belief that a person's sexuality is an innate part of their being. I remember saying I was considering becoming bi-sexual because it might double my chances of getting laid. I thought I was being so sensitive and insightful! They humoured the inebriated straight and gave all the right answers from Gay 101. It was a good conversation, regardless of the slurring.

I remember music, dancing, and an amusing taxi driver on the way home who told Kristina and I - who must have been exuding drunk, single, frustrated vibes in the back - that we should take a shower together. (He got tipped!) I remember going to bed around 5am. I remember falling out of bed and hitting the floor with a bump shortly after that. I don't remember having that much fun on a Friday night in a long time.