trying to avoid some “Harlem White Boy”

Due to my commitment as Host of our friend Strep, I missed a big Thursday night wear-a-deep-v-neck birthday party for a friend of the Ivy League Crew.  From what I hear, everyone was 'in rare form' (that must be a reference to uncooked meat b/c the condition of being fucked up is hardly rare for these girls).  Friday, I went home and slept for a few hours before meeting Don Juan from San Juan for a surprisingly dull night at No Parking (not crowded at all and they charged a cover).  Saturday night, I stayed in and slobbered over Men’s Olympic Gymnastics and swim (and was outraged that Ian Thorpe retired… how he doin’!). 

Sunday, I was feeling much better.  I had planned to take my Hippy Cuz on a Water Taxi ride with the boys to Riis Beach.  Ernie was the one who got all excited about the spectacular views when she planned it, but in the end, she flaked for Brunch and told us she’d meet us at the beach.  It ended up being Hippy Cuz (who, by the way, is actually a girl and my younger cousin... only in town for a few days), Urban Sprawl, and me.  So we said fuck the view; we’ll take the subway.

We get to Riis Beach, and it’s far from Beach Weather.  I had heard it was normally a black beach (I’d never been there except for Black Pride), but today was almost exclusively Latin, which was perfectly fine with me (ask Urban Sprawl about her stereo envy from that day).  Ernie joined sometime between the short rain shower and the maditory evacuation of the beach due to lightning.  So what did we do?  We hopped a bus to Long Island City to drink at Urban Sprawl’s place!

The 4 of us sit in the back of the bus, and some of the Latin guys came to sit beside me.  I moved over to make room, and one of them said, “Thanks.  You know, even the big guys can fit in a small space if you know how to make room.”  It took me a good half a second to trigger the How You Doin’ response: “So, do you know how to make room?”  “Oh, yes, but my friend over there: he’s a pro!”  Within 5 minutes, everyone was introduced, and they had broken out an orange juice bottle and a Subway cup of red wine to pass around.  Oh, and did I mention they had 2 magnums of red wine in the bookbag over thre and a friend with a boom box playing Bachata? 

Turns out the guy I first talked to was their version of Dina LoHands.  We all chatted (well, it was mostly he who talked) the whole way through Queens (no, really… we had to traverse a complete diagonal of Queens on this bus).  Thank God Hippy Cuz had the sense to take very small sips from the wine because she was staying with our grandmother and had to return before she got robbed or raped on the way home (the only fates that await a young woman after dark in Queens according to our grandmother). 

We declined an invitation to dine and drink with them in Woodside.  I would have gone just for an adventure, but we did have a ton of our own food, thanks to Ernie, who never comes to the beach without a 3-course meal for 5.  At Urban Sprawl's place, we had a very nice lunch/dinner as well as a couple of drinks.  Ernie ditched, Bottomless Pitt replaced, and we went to Chi Chi’s.  Bye, Hippy Cuz.  YOu can drink next year!

I probably shouldn’t have drank anymore (I was trying to take it easy since I was just coming off that infection), but I just couldn’t turn down the 2-4-1 special.  Bottomless Pitt tried to ignore the doorman she made out with a less than month before (the doorman didn't appear until after we had parked at the bar), but I greeted him egregiously and enthusiastically: “Oh, well look who it is!  How you doin’!” *wave* Of course, Urban Sprawl had the flask.  And of course, he didn’t need it.  He could barely keep his head off the bar by the time Bottomless Pitt and I got our second drinks (well, Miss Pitt may have been on her 3^rd or 4^th by this point).  For some reason, we thought the best place for us at that very moment was HK Lounge.

Apparently Hot Mess was not dead like we thought!  I had no reason to partake in the open bar (none of us did), but here comes Urban Sprawl with a vodka cranberry (most likely spiked).  I took it from her and gave it to Bottomless Pitt (I was more worried that she'd spill it than drink it).  Bottomless Pitt, meanwhile, was preoccupied with trying to avoid some “Harlem White Boy” that he had recently humped.  5 minutes later, the kid has his legs wrapped around Bottomless Pitt’s waist, and Miss Pitt is gleefully flinging her not-so-new boy around the dance floor.

Did I mention I can't deal anymore and I need to go home?  Yeah.

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