NYC, partie troi
I was a little bleary-eyed on the morning of the Idiot Picnic. Door's alarm didn't go off, so we missed the train that would've brought us there on time, but I assured her that everybody would expect me to be late anyways. We reached The City almost when the Picnic was scheduled to start, so I called Sweet One. She was in the right place at the right time, and I felt so glad that she volunteered to be one of the contact people. Now everybody would know that I was on my way and not worry about it.
I found Sweet One sitting with her outspoken, fierce friend (what else would you expect from a fellow Purchasite?) on the slope of the hill. Ottomaton was a little ways further up that slope, and I reprimanded him lightly for not being in quite the right place. He oughta know better. The picnic spot was as perfect as I remembered- it was a long stroll to the bathrooms, but only because the nearby ones were broken. I forgot, again, to check out the Conservatory Gardens properly. There's always so much more to see in NYC than you can remember.
Fucking Queer showed up pretty promptly, as did The Forgotten Idiot. After we chilled for awhile, catching up and swapping news of fellow Purchasites and other friends, we started the games. Dalmuti is such a nice sit-down game, it was fun to teach it to them. We only played three or four rounds, but we had a different Greater Peon each round. I was glad for that. Bob showed up in time to be one of those Greater Peons, and she did a fine job placing red M+M's in my mouth. (The funnest part of Dalmuti is ordering around your lessers.)
I did a semi-grand induction ceremony to the Idiot Society, having everybody stand up and receive their Idiot Name as I touched them with the Bop-It that DoctorEllisDee had given me. Door cringed at the thought of being touched with the Bop-It, but I gave her the choice of the Bop-It or my tongue on her shoulder. (Damn, I forgot her and Mike's Idiot Names!) Julius (Dorkus Maximus) opted for both. Ottomaton decided to be a pain in the ass- he refused to stand up. I tried everything I could think of to coax the lazy jerk to stand and receive his Idiot Name (Madame Wang or 31337, I forget which). He refused, mule-like. I was so angry, I stalked off to avoid screaming bad things at him. I couldn't believe he was being so pissy at such a wonderful event. I ignored him for awhile, then when he was standing up for some other reason I grabbed the Bop-It and said, "Idonamethee31337welcometotheIdiotSociety" before he could sit down again. That made me happy again. We cuddled in the afternoon heat for a while (Bob's tummy makes a nice pillow for two) and then realized it was far too hot for a cuddle, so we had a watergun fight instead. I have several great shots of people pulling their guns. Bob didn't join in for the longest time, which made her a great target. Ottomaton brought out the Ice Snake, a long plastic thing that's made to keep coolers cold, and brandished it for awhile until Bob figured out how nice it felt and wrapped it around herself.
Then I think we played a few rounds of the blindfolded game we loved so much last year. (Two people blindfolded, trying to find each other. A sighted person tries to help, two sighted people try to keep them away from each other) We also did The Blob, Queen of the Mountain, and a few others. As the sun set, we tossed a Frisbee around, but we were all pretty equally awful at the throwing and catching of it. I want to throw my dad's big heavy Frisbees around, maybe chase up a game of Ultimate somewhere.
I watched dusk fall in Central Park, wrapped in Julius' arms. The fireflies came to greet us, to do their mating dance all around us. It was beautiful. The Forgotten Idiot came with me and Julius to Penn Station. I left them in the waiting room and I went to Times Square to hunt down a bootleg of Eminem's latest.
Alas, there were cops everywhere . . . I only saw one person selling purses. The others were all food vendors or portrait artists. I guess it was good to see more artists in Times Square, but I miss the gritty old place with people selling Oakley shades for $2 and peep shows on every corner. Damn Guiliani. Damn Disney. Damn post 9/11 paranoia- there were cops everywhere. My interactions with cops have mostly been benign, but I get snarly when I see them forced to uphold dumb laws.
On the way to Times Square, on a very dark, very quiet block, I saw three elderly tourists walking before me. The male held a digital video camera openly in one hand . . . he didn't even have the wrist strap on. (My first-generation crappy digital camera was holstered onto a belt, safely hidden under my shirt.) I was so tempted to knock him over and take the camera. What did he need it for? If he was holding it so carelessly, he obviously could afford a new one. But maliciousness and Mania don't mesh well, so I just walked on.
I did end up getting that Eminem CD . . . at the Virgin Megastore, they were selling it with a limited-edition DVD. So I gave Eminem another 5 cents he didn't need, and his pimps another $15 they definitely didn't need. And I purchased my first non-CD CD. Somebody shoot me now. Or get me a felt-tipped pen . . . . .
Anyway, it was a really stuffy, hot night. I almost passed out on the walk back to Penn Station. I bought some McDonald's grease and quickly recovered. Maybe I am hypoglycemic or whatever Dot was talking about. Anyway, me and Julius and the Forgotten One had a great time on the way home. I was pretty damn tired, but I went out with them and Curly to experience a Long Island Diner, anyway. Pretty yummy stuff, but I can't believe I forgot to order a Chocolate Egg Cream. Anyways, then we came back to Door's house and passed out.
We were awakened a mere few hours later. Door and Mike had to go to work, and their door would only lock from the outside. So me and Julius chilled in their nice backyard for awhile. I lazed in a hammock, watching cardinals flit above me. Long Island is a lot greener than I had expected it to be. It's a really nice place, I may look for appartements there as well as Brooklyn, Queens, and Westchester County. No way I could afford The City . . . and I think I'd want to sleep outside of it, anyway.
Eventually, I felt awake enough to take the wheel again, and we once again journeyed over the famed Brooklyn Bridge. We made it to Zabar's, bought a reasonable amount of fabulous food for a very reasonable price, got thirteen of the best bagels in the known universe, and had a pretty uneventful trip home.
And that was my summer vacation. It was good.
I found Sweet One sitting with her outspoken, fierce friend (what else would you expect from a fellow Purchasite?) on the slope of the hill. Ottomaton was a little ways further up that slope, and I reprimanded him lightly for not being in quite the right place. He oughta know better. The picnic spot was as perfect as I remembered- it was a long stroll to the bathrooms, but only because the nearby ones were broken. I forgot, again, to check out the Conservatory Gardens properly. There's always so much more to see in NYC than you can remember.
Fucking Queer showed up pretty promptly, as did The Forgotten Idiot. After we chilled for awhile, catching up and swapping news of fellow Purchasites and other friends, we started the games. Dalmuti is such a nice sit-down game, it was fun to teach it to them. We only played three or four rounds, but we had a different Greater Peon each round. I was glad for that. Bob showed up in time to be one of those Greater Peons, and she did a fine job placing red M+M's in my mouth. (The funnest part of Dalmuti is ordering around your lessers.)
I did a semi-grand induction ceremony to the Idiot Society, having everybody stand up and receive their Idiot Name as I touched them with the Bop-It that DoctorEllisDee had given me. Door cringed at the thought of being touched with the Bop-It, but I gave her the choice of the Bop-It or my tongue on her shoulder. (Damn, I forgot her and Mike's Idiot Names!) Julius (Dorkus Maximus) opted for both. Ottomaton decided to be a pain in the ass- he refused to stand up. I tried everything I could think of to coax the lazy jerk to stand and receive his Idiot Name (Madame Wang or 31337, I forget which). He refused, mule-like. I was so angry, I stalked off to avoid screaming bad things at him. I couldn't believe he was being so pissy at such a wonderful event. I ignored him for awhile, then when he was standing up for some other reason I grabbed the Bop-It and said, "Idonamethee31337welcometotheIdiotSociety" before he could sit down again. That made me happy again. We cuddled in the afternoon heat for a while (Bob's tummy makes a nice pillow for two) and then realized it was far too hot for a cuddle, so we had a watergun fight instead. I have several great shots of people pulling their guns. Bob didn't join in for the longest time, which made her a great target. Ottomaton brought out the Ice Snake, a long plastic thing that's made to keep coolers cold, and brandished it for awhile until Bob figured out how nice it felt and wrapped it around herself.
Then I think we played a few rounds of the blindfolded game we loved so much last year. (Two people blindfolded, trying to find each other. A sighted person tries to help, two sighted people try to keep them away from each other) We also did The Blob, Queen of the Mountain, and a few others. As the sun set, we tossed a Frisbee around, but we were all pretty equally awful at the throwing and catching of it. I want to throw my dad's big heavy Frisbees around, maybe chase up a game of Ultimate somewhere.
I watched dusk fall in Central Park, wrapped in Julius' arms. The fireflies came to greet us, to do their mating dance all around us. It was beautiful. The Forgotten Idiot came with me and Julius to Penn Station. I left them in the waiting room and I went to Times Square to hunt down a bootleg of Eminem's latest.
Alas, there were cops everywhere . . . I only saw one person selling purses. The others were all food vendors or portrait artists. I guess it was good to see more artists in Times Square, but I miss the gritty old place with people selling Oakley shades for $2 and peep shows on every corner. Damn Guiliani. Damn Disney. Damn post 9/11 paranoia- there were cops everywhere. My interactions with cops have mostly been benign, but I get snarly when I see them forced to uphold dumb laws.
On the way to Times Square, on a very dark, very quiet block, I saw three elderly tourists walking before me. The male held a digital video camera openly in one hand . . . he didn't even have the wrist strap on. (My first-generation crappy digital camera was holstered onto a belt, safely hidden under my shirt.) I was so tempted to knock him over and take the camera. What did he need it for? If he was holding it so carelessly, he obviously could afford a new one. But maliciousness and Mania don't mesh well, so I just walked on.
I did end up getting that Eminem CD . . . at the Virgin Megastore, they were selling it with a limited-edition DVD. So I gave Eminem another 5 cents he didn't need, and his pimps another $15 they definitely didn't need. And I purchased my first non-CD CD. Somebody shoot me now. Or get me a felt-tipped pen . . . . .
Anyway, it was a really stuffy, hot night. I almost passed out on the walk back to Penn Station. I bought some McDonald's grease and quickly recovered. Maybe I am hypoglycemic or whatever Dot was talking about. Anyway, me and Julius and the Forgotten One had a great time on the way home. I was pretty damn tired, but I went out with them and Curly to experience a Long Island Diner, anyway. Pretty yummy stuff, but I can't believe I forgot to order a Chocolate Egg Cream. Anyways, then we came back to Door's house and passed out.
We were awakened a mere few hours later. Door and Mike had to go to work, and their door would only lock from the outside. So me and Julius chilled in their nice backyard for awhile. I lazed in a hammock, watching cardinals flit above me. Long Island is a lot greener than I had expected it to be. It's a really nice place, I may look for appartements there as well as Brooklyn, Queens, and Westchester County. No way I could afford The City . . . and I think I'd want to sleep outside of it, anyway.
Eventually, I felt awake enough to take the wheel again, and we once again journeyed over the famed Brooklyn Bridge. We made it to Zabar's, bought a reasonable amount of fabulous food for a very reasonable price, got thirteen of the best bagels in the known universe, and had a pretty uneventful trip home.
And that was my summer vacation. It was good.