offers me the seat on his motorcycle. How could I say no?

Okay, okay.  So maybe I slipped up on the last post and said The Clap instead of Strep Throat.  Whatever, it makes for a better explanation to your alcoholic friends of why you’re not drinking.

Happy Black Pride!  It was always funny to me when I would mention “Black Pride”, and friends of mine would be confused: “Is that like Black Gay Pride?”  “Only if the one in June is White Gay Pride.”  I won’t even go into that discussion b/c my pseudo-intellectual side isn't nearly as engaging as my narrations are.

I had made a Black Pride Beach Event event on Facebook with the tagline: “I’m not racist, but honestly…” (a quote inspired by many dating discussions, gay and straight).  It was hosted by Popeye’s and it was classified as an Educational Event.  “And please, no references to foodstuffs.”  As much of a compliment as it is to be referred to as “chocolate”, I’d rather not, thanks.

I had called Vladimir around the time I woke up.  He had about an hour and a half to make it to Penn Station to meet us, which I figured may have been cutting it close, but whatevs.  So I dial and get, “The subscriber you are trying to reach is not accepting phone calls.”  I would find the guy on a pre-paid plan.  Then I get a call from a number I didn’t recognize.  A guy with an accent (who sounds well over 40) says Vlad is staying with him and called for the details of meeting up for the beach.  Awkward.  

I was ready for a hilarious day because a few of the (super-white) Long Island Gays were confirmed to come (as in Attending, not Maybe).  Of course, all of them flaked.  The train ride ended up being 50 Cent, Tighty Whitey, Bottomless Pitt and me.  BTW, 50 Cent is actually in his mid 40s.  It was my first week in NYC when we at Chi Chi’s (3 years ago), and he tried to get in my pants.  When he realized he wasn’t getting any, he turned out to be a really cool guy.  He lives in Atlanta now, but most of his fam is up here.  And he has 3 white-gold front teeth for reasons too non-entertaining to explain here.

So we shoved off on the 2 train, and as we got further downtown, we saw that nobody really looked like they were going to the beach.  This was a bit worrisome since the organization behind the official event (and most of the events for Black Pride in NYC) was going through turmoil and had cancelled the official beach event (I figured the kids would show up at the beach regardless).

“Chambers street will be the last stop on this 2 train due to a power failure.”  Huh?  “For continuing service to Brooklyn, catch an uptown train to Penn Station [where we just came from after 10 min of riding] and transfer to a Brooklyn-bound A train.” Of course the 5 train was already running along the 2 line because of weekend construction.  We end up walking to the 4-5-6 line (everything’s pretty close that far downtown), and look was comes along: another 2 train!  I love NYC.

For those of you not familiar with NYC, here’s a translation of the preceding paragraph: construction on the weekends = you’re fucked on the subway.  Thanks, Urban Sprawl.

We take the 2 to the end of the line, and there had been no one in our car the whole ride that looked remotely how you doin’ except for the femme queen who was holding his “girlfriend’s” hand.  I hold my breath as we walk outside to catch the Q35 bus to the beach.  Is that a line I see?  A line for the Q35 bus!  YES!  I swear, I’ve never been so happy to be crammed in a bus with less than 2 square feet of standing room!  

The How You Doin’ Express is chugging along through Brooklyn, and the driver is quite the feisty one!  And cute too.  Did I mention we love a man with a union job?  Anyway, before we even get off the bus, 50 Cent is hitting on some no-that-hot young thing.  He asks how old the kid is, and he responds, “22 and engaged.”  Really?  50 Cent continued to indulge the guy, just to be an asshole.  He got him to lift up his shirt and snuck in a feel of his stomach.  I'm definitely going to be a dirty old man when I grow up (boobies).

Cane and the Syndrome were already camped out, so we found them on the beach.  Boris was there already by himself.

Flashback: I had met Boris online maybe a year ago with the intention of hooking up.  For whatever reason, neither of us pulled the trigger (we met up in person at a bar).  He seemed cool, so we stayed in contact.  At a glance: he’s in a very long term open relationship, he’s Russian, he’s hot, and he likes black guys (exclusively?).

So had to go find Boris, which was fun because a) he was all the way on the other side of the beach (so I got to walk through everyone… see and be scene, girl!) and b) because he had his motorcycle helmets (a good look for the walk back... one of the few moments this summer where I got to blatantly look "cool").

We get back and realize that all the hot guys are over where Boris was.  Who’s by us?  Lesbianas!  By the time we come to this realization, Boris and Cane are being typical white people (i.e., already in the water).  We waste about 15 minutes trying to get their attention so that we can move, and we see some random almost drown.  I’m not sure why it took 5 lifeguards swimming out to rescue this guy.  I mean, I would have seen the first two headed out there and been like, “Oh, you guys got ‘em?  Okay, I’ll just sit here and look for others.”  Then again, I can barely swim 50 meters without catching a lung full of water (ask me about the time I thought I could pass a lifeguard test for a summer job).

We eventually give up on moving and decide to go for a walk around.  I took a lap with Bottomless Pitt and the Syndrome followed by another with Bottomless Pitt and Cane.  Some of the amazing things we saw: tits, pecs, ‘pregnant’ men, whole families, ass, tits, thongs, white people (“Hi, white people!”), tons of Latin people, pierced tits, awesome tattoos, 6 packs, ridiculous ass, and way too much fried chicken.  

Why did Vladamir call me from a random number at 1:30 saying he was at Penn Station?  Bitch, we were meeting at 11:30!  He had gotten this random girl to let him use her phone.  She was nice enough to write down directions for him (his English really wasn’t very good).  I had no idea how he was supposed to find me when he arrived if he didn’t have a phone.

Towards the end of the day, Cabbage Boy walked by us with her Cunty Greek Chorus. I’ve come to accept their cuntiness, so their ‘humor’ is all in good fun for me.  But they almost visibly recoiled when Bottomless Pitt brandished the getting-a-doctorate fireball.  

Around 4, 50 Cent runs off to chase some young piece of tail, and he refuses to take his phone (against my advice).  At 4:30, Boris makes it clear that he needs to leave at 5 and offers me the seat on his motorcycle.  How could I say no?  He and I pack up our things and walk towards the fence that literally separated Black Pride from the rich white people of the Rockaways (apparently the hole in the fence from earlier that day had been patched up by mid-afternoon).  This meant that I got to strut through the Black Pride crowd with a motorcycle helmet (again!).  He was parked just on the other side of the fence.  

“So just remember that I need to lean to turn, so don’t fight the lean, or else we’ll probably end up in an accident.  You can hold on to the Oh-Shit bars or you can wrap your arm around me, whatever’s more comfortable.  Ready?”  Let’s do it.  The scariest moment was the first time he shifted gears and accelerated.  Shit, I could really fly off the back of this thing if I don’t hold on.  We got onto the Belt Parkway with no problem, and the view of the Verrazano Bridge was pretty amazing.  I didn’t really get to take it in because I was super afraid that turning my head would throw off our wind resistance and/or send my flying into the traffic behind us.  It was mostly staring at the back of his neck unless we were turning.  

The BQE wasn’t too bad except for this huge gap in the road that was basically a depressed slab of metal.  A slight bump in a car, but a huge hit on a motorcycle!  We were going at least 50 when we hit it, and I saw it right before.  I yelped when I was lifted from my seat, but I figured I was all good because the wind pushed all the sound back.  Boris definitely reached back and patted my leg, which meant he definitely heard.  So much for my 'top' persona.

Riding through Manhattan was the best part.  It’s not often that I feel 1000x cooler than everyone I see, but there was no telling me that I wasn’t head-and-shoulders above everyone we passed.  And we rolled right up in front of Gym Bar to dismount and park.  I’ve decided that I’m getting a motorcycle..  Did I mention that that’s not even close to the end of this outing?  Yeah.

Click here to read Part 2.

Note: you may find the tags (to the left) and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.