Beautiful people, high ceilings, pretentious house music...the sights and sounds of a New York City disco somewhere above Bowery and below 40th. Amidst a sea of crowded socialites there I stand, parched, awkward, drifting back and forth to the "fresh" sounds of a pay-by-hour D.J. jamming to the groove of his iTunes induced beat. The revolution is no where in sight. I say hi to a lanky girl standing by me. She points to my earbuds still in my ears and comments saying "Wow, you're really good at doing two things at once." I laugh quietly because actually I am doing three things because I am also charming her. A waitress passes next to me, "Excuse me...", she's gone. A busboy shuffles by, " Um sir I...", he disappears into the small cubby's created by the twists and turns of Gucci wrapped thighs. I stumble to the bar, all the while stepping on the feet of wafey white folk with shoe budgets larger than that of this party-obviously. A thin, pierced hipster stands waiting with her head cocked and eyes fixed in the permanent position of "rolled". " Can I have a...", she starts to pour. "Here", she says, "you'll like it", in a tone that suggests I WILL like it...or else. She hands me the glass and I nod, " Yeah, I was gonna order that anyway." With as much coolness as I can muster up, I peek down to see just exactly what concoction she concocted. A chilled pool of amber colored gin is glistening in the light and splashing down over the sides of the glass. I drink it all - down in one gulp. And then start to cough, violently, but it's not the booze - no, no my friends I can handle my booze- it's that I'm choking, actually choking on something...something round? Something hard? Daikon? Is this Daikon? A lone cucumber slice stares back at me from the murky mixture. So this is what New York has come to......fine all right, I'm in.
