Jonquill's

Dark Night, Quick Karma

In Uncategorized on August 17, 2010 at 3:33 am

The city did go dark for a day, in the day, so it wasn’t exactly dark as it was, not light.  Or not noisy or something.  Suffice to say, it was light out and no one was using a blender.  I’m not saying I have a continual problem with people using their blenders at all hours, neighbor STEVE!!!!  I’m not saying that at all, but in the summer sunlight of August, the lights went out, and they would not come on for another twenty four hours.  It was an event recalled in many a story and more than a few commemorative t-shirts.  Most of said t-shirts said, “I survived the NYC blackout.”

Survived.

Right.  Survived.

Congratulations, you survived the day we all got out of work at noon, and went to bars where the beer would only last another two hours.  High five.  You made it.  Someone put on Survivor by Destiny’s Child.

That’s my jam, yo.It was…it was…how many years ago was it, random sign at a random bar I saw in the lower east side a few days ago?

Well fuck.  I can’t even read that number.  It’s the -th Annual Blackout party, huh?  You can’t count either?  Can you, random sign at a random bar I saw in the lower east side a few days ago?

I knew it.

I will not bore you with the entire story of my adventures during those wild twenty four hours.  At least not all at once, but I will say this.  The universe was quick to act on this night of darkness.  It acted with intent and purpose, correcting wrongs and completing circles where it saw them needing close.

That night, as a friend of mine entered the bar, I thought it would be funny to run up to him, pull him into a hug, and exclaim, “Ryan!  Thank God!  I thought I’d never have sex again!”

His parents were directly behind him.  So was his already outed brother.  His mother yelled for a white zin over my shoulder.

A scant few hours later, I was trying to convince two gentlemen that it was wholly unnecessary to show me what a “real” blow job looked like in the guy’s bathroom.

They looked like stand-ins for ZZ Top.  Think of the chafing friends.  Think of the chafing.

Suffice to say, karma was quick that night.  Quick.  Like a bunny.  Or a gag reflex.  (Just saying, if it’s going to be “real,” it should last more than thirty seconds.  Just saying.)

I survived the ZZ Top look-a-likes during the blackout.

I want that t-shirt.

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