Still emailing my posts to myself from work! Still no internet at work!
Dare I say my life in NYC has become epic?
I dunno, gals, I’ve been here just under two years. I have my share of hardships, but I have to say that when I think about Michigan or Philadelphia, I feel I’m worlds away from the person I was and the people I knew then.
Except, of course, for you, Monica!
Dare I say I am somehow living the dream?
Now I have had paid holidays from this job for the past two years, but I dunno, I guess I never maximized Memorial Day?
Yesterday started off with Shea inviting Blake and I to a “P-Rican style” barbecue. This “barbecue”, which consisted of him, Stefan, their bandmates and Adam– some other Williamsburg character, or should I say caricature?– lined up along the 3 foot wide expanse between their building and its wrought iron fence, hibachi ablaze, hot dog packs on the ground.
Womp womp.
“You girls live in the neighborhood?” sneered this newb-to-me, Adam, shirtless and clad only in tiny. unbuttoned denim cutoffs.
“In Greenpoint,” I added.
At that moment, two gents who were previously unfamiliar to me, Pablo and Vinny, emerged from the metal cellar doors, which were laying on the sidewalk, wide-open. They spread out a good sized Oriental rug in front of the steps down to their dwelling. Blake and I glanced over at them, sizing them up. Both weighing about 110 pounds with geometric haircuts, they looked like they were setting up shop to do the door at the Darkroom.
“Vinnyyyy…. I told you that the Sunday bouncer will bring the sound system when he wakes uppppp! Don’t text him now! People were partying at St. Jerome until 9 a.m.! It’s only two! He’s definitely still asleep.”
My mistake, it was St. Jerome where they do door.
Blake and I looked around. No chips, buns, pickles, plates, cups, or even seats for that matter. A pack of hot dogs on the sidewalk.
My phone rang. “Charli, what are you DOING???? Are you at Shea’s???! Get your ass over to our place! We have veggie burgers n leftovers n all KINDS of stuff!” Krissie screeched when I picked up.
“I decided we’re having what yall yankees call a BAR-BE-CUE! Bring Blake, bring Shea and all his turd friends, bring WHOEVER. OUR PLACE! From now until dawn!!” she cried.
I looked around. Blake was wandering toward her bike, cradling her phone.
“Omg, Charli, I’m just going to run over to some party and meet some friends here from SF. I’ll find you later!”
Blake rode off to the Southside, and I biked over to what appeared to be heaven, in the form of a storefront apartment. Not far from the original barbecue, we entered into a world of bright colors, happy art, graphic paper plates and napkins, well-designed napkin holders, SEATS, and friendly dudes.
“We’ve been having people in and out all day! Mercedes is bringing a bunch of stuff from work! Help yourselves!” welcomed Krissie, pointing out veggie burgers, hot dogs and a soba noodle salad with cucumbers.
“Hey you krazy kooks, who needs a beer??” yelled someone running in from the front door.
“Is that you Donnie??!” screamed Krissie.
Donnie rode through the apartment on a skateboard, handing out beers from an open 12 pack to everyone inside.
The night continued in celebratory splendor from there, as we met friends of Krissie’s from Tennessee, Sophi’s friends from San Francisco, and other Graham Avenue denizens. “This is Melinda! I met her on the train on the way here!” exclaimed Krissie eagerly.
I couldn’t help but ease in to the feeling, and Krissie grabbed my shoulders and pushed me toward the backyard, where a bunch of guys with long hair were sitting around the table. “Shea took back my invitation to his barbecue, so I went to Daddy’s and made some new friends!” she whispered in my ear. “Aren’t they cute??”
I was just learning their names when Blake and Sophi stepped into the backyard, miraculously.
“Charli! I found Sophi!” announced Blake, as she squeezed herself onto the picnic table bench, wrapping her arms around my neck in an embrace.
“And who did you find….?” she asked, drunkenly coyly, her trademark embarrassing line of the night.
“Hey! You girls bailed on our BBQ!” I heard someone shout in defiance, as I was about to play along with Blake’s coy game and learn these fellas’ names. I spun around. Stefan and Shea had materialized as well!
“We found better food,” I responded, feeling smug.
“It’s ok, Pablo and Vinny turned our basement into Misshapes. It got real lame real quick,” quipped Shea. “Did you get anything to eat here?” he followed up curiously.
I went inside and furnished myself a plate including a veggie burger, some burrata, fresh melon and roasted eggplant. We all talked and chatted til the wee hours. The next thing I knew, Blake and I were wobbling up Manhattan Ave on our bikes, looking at the Manhattan skyline.
Please, out of town girlfriends, send me all your vibes to make these gals stick around.
deux mille six 