Newyearslog

[Velvet]

Stardate 122810

Against all better judgement, Heather and I followed up a party at my mom's house with another party at my buddies place last night, getting us back to mom's house around 2am. I woke up at 5am and managed to hold off the hungover vomiting session for a good two hours before I expelled a series of fantastic hors d'eurves into the family toilet. Heather fared no better on the sleep register, and we crawled out of bed at 7:30am, hungover and facing a nine-hour drive. And a snowstorm.

Nowhere near our best, we packed up xmas gifts and bid my mom adieu, popping our car into four-wheel drive and pointing ourselves towards Calais, Maine and ultimately (we hoped), Worcester, Massachusetts. Heather was puking up bile into a plastic bag and I was barely keeping it together, fighting through a constant barrage of windshield wiper fluid to battle the relentless wind-swept salt-and-snow fiesta that was our drive to the US of A.

After the easiest border crossing ever things started looking up. We both started coming around and the weather and the roads started clearing up. It was no picnic (in all regards), but it was a marked improvement. By Bangor or so the roads were pretty much dry, leaving only the intermittent wind gusts to deal with.

We stopped for booze in New Hampshire (always a good idea, those state run liquor stores are cheapcheapcheap) and battled traffic the rest of the way to Worcester, arriving at the hotel at 6:30, making for an eleven-hour drive with the time change, which mercifully worked in our favour. We were sharing a suite with a bunch of Heather's friends, and though they had all headed out for pre-drinks they left a key at the desk for us. We emptied the car and booked it pronto. We found the bar and about thirty of Heather's friends with enough time for me to pound back a pint. I bummed a bud from a pal and we headed across the street to the DCU Arena for the first in a week of upcoming shows in celebration of the New Year.

It's been almost six months since my last Phish show, SPAC I believe it was. We soon found our seats and lo and behold three more of Heather's friends were sitting in the seats next to us. I swear the girl knew a hundred people in the room, such is the nature of the Phish experience. Hell, last summer we struck up a conversation with the couple seated next to us only to discover that Heather and the guy had gone to several shows together in Europe as part of a large group of people that toured together for a couple of weeks. Guess what? They were sitting in front of us tonight. Three cheers for serendipity.

I rolled our bud into a wee joint that was coming about thirteen hours after we started needing it, and as soon as the lights went down I lit it up. We were sitting full-on Fishman side in the 100's which made for an interesting vantage point; a lot of insight into how much the drums inject the music and get it driving. From the get-go there was so much stimulus input; the lights, the music, the crowd; all three elements work together to create a sensory onslaught that is rarely rivaled in live rock and roll. About ninety minutes before the 43rd anniversary of my birth Phish played their birthday song, Backwards Down The Number Line and the show started to feel like my very own. Throw in a Stash and Harry Hood and everything was coming up Velvet.

Limb By Limb had an excellent jam. There's an improv exercise/technique called “Follow The Leader†where musicians morph between one of three roles: Leader (aka soloist), Accompany The Leader (rhythm), or Follow The Leader (mimic/couterpoint the leader). Any musician can play any role at any time regardless of what's going on. Say Trey considers Mike the Leader and he decides to Accompany. Meanwhile Fishman considers Trey the Leader and Follows. Mike Might be Accompanying Trey while Page off by himself Leads away. Twenty seconds later everything could change. I'm utterly convinced they were playing this game during the Limb jam. And they are so damn good at that kind of stuff. The Hood jam was exquisite. They brought it to the brink of “You can feel good about Hood†and pulled back three times. I was in bliss with my eyes tightly closed when a dude behind me screamed “This is why I go to Phish shows Motherfuckers!†I knew exactly what he meant.

After the show I hummed and hawed and eventually passed on the poster; perhaps I'm maturing in my old age. Heather and I went back to the bar across the street for my birthday shot. I was born at 12:02am so every year I do a shooter at two minutes after midnight. I selected tequila and watched the clock. About 12:03 or so we were out on the sidewalk.

Back at the suite about a dozen people were in the middle of a semi-raging techno lsd party. There was a vaporizer making the rounds and after a few hours I found an empty closet and built my nest for the night. My comfort level was through the roof thanks to a thoughtful gift from my lovely girlfriend, an air mattress that kicks the ass of my little blue foam pad. Closed the door and shut out the giggle fest coming from the next room and ended up with a solid five-hour slumber.

Woke to find myself 43 years old. Crazy world we live in.

[Booche]

I bet I know what the giggling was about.

"That dude is 43?"

[jVids]

Sounds like a great time, happy belated buddy.

[backbacon]

Fantastic! Happy birthday, Velvet!

[Velvet]

Stardate 122910

Got a good solid five hours of sleep and emerged from the closet feeling sprite and ready for a great day. Walked down for continental breakfast in my pyjamas and just caught the 9am cutoff. Had a nice relaxing morning waiting for the room to get itself together and we made a nice leisurely escape before 11am.

It's my birthday today, 43 years tramping the land. I celebrate birthdays like an eight year old. Every year is another victory, another successful run through the seasons that left me still standing, still wanting more. This is the first time I've ever been away for my birthday, and I was happy to aim a car load of good people towards one of the world's great cities, NYC.

Few things I enjoy more than a nice long drive, and after four hours on the highway we found ourselves weaving through a city besieged with snow. It was a beautiful day as we pulled into town, but the evidence of the recent snowstorms was unmistakeable; in the streets at least one in ten cars on the side of the road is buried. Entire blocks of vehicles are submerged in heavy snow, and the space left for actual moving cars is minimal at best. We pulled in the mirrors and made our way to our host's house in Queens.

We primed up and went out for the best burger in NYC at a place called Ditmar's Station. They squish out burgers made with a combination of beef, lamb, and veal, and top them with shaved fried onions. We got a side of herbed mayo with the excellent fries, and Heather picked one of a list of fancy-pants yummy beers. I had a Stella and enjoyed one of the best burgers ever. There was ketchup on the side but there was no need, the thing was so flavourful. For dessert we had Cafe Patron tequila, cappuccino-enhanced bolts of pure goodness. Heather and Greg played video mini golf while Todd, Anthony and I drank and cheered them on. I usually celebrate my birthday with old friends and though I missed that this year I was happy to be spending it with a great group of new ones, and my wonderful lady of course.

Leaving them at the bar Heather and I hopped on the N Train and met up with a friend of hers. We were a little rushed and hopped a cab towards MSG and had the oh-so-New-York experience of watching the meter tick away while sitting stuck in impossibly snarled traffic, broken up with shocking bursts of aggressive driving worthy of Grand Theft Auto. We got out and walked the last few blocks, saving us both time and money on a ride that cost us too much of both already.

We were really pumped to see Prince tonight at Madison Square Garden. We thought we'd arrived a bit late but the show hadn't started yet as we made our way up and up to the 300 level. We were rushing down the corridor when we walked right by Prince. Heather and I sort of stopped and looked at him in surprise, and he and his posse stopped as well. We were about four feet away as people rushed all around us taking pictures. He looked me in the (glassy red) eyes and gave me a little smirk, his arm on a lady with a small group of people behind. I immediately discounted him as an imposter, only because it seemed so out of place to see him strolling around the concession area of the 300 level 45 minutes after the 7:30pm start time printed on my ticket stub and Heather and I just sorta looked at him and each other and we headed off to find our section. He was tiny and looked just like Prince, and unless he brought his own entourage, he fooled a phalanx of photographers and fans. We took our seats and ten minutes later we heard an entire area of the Gardens across the way start screaming and standing up, pointing. Obviously he made his way over there and poked his head out into the arena seating area. I'm now pretty convinced it was actually him.

Only in NYC.

The opener was great, a singer/rapper bundle of energy named Jenelle Monae (or something) boasting a tight band and a really happening guitarist. but this show was all about the Purple One. Prince is so damn good at what he does, and he does everything. The tiny wonder looked a mile high as he effortlessly covered his Prince symbol-shaped stage-in-the-round, running around in four-inch heels. His band was unstoppable, and when Prince strapped on his Tele his tone was delicious and his playing was staggering. I mean Prince can really, really fucking play the guitar, and he was well rehearsed and juicy.

The set was laden with hits; name a Prince song and he played it. The whole crowd stood throughout the show, clapping eagerly every time Prince asked (which was often) and singing along with every number. There were three encores, the second of which comprised entirely of Prince on solo piano, and a third encore where about seventy fans were brought onstage to dance along, a crowd that included Cyndi Lauper, who traded inspired vocal belts with Prince before the night was finally called to a close.

Dazzled, we sat for a bit and then filed our way down to the street. We walked by the Empire State Building on our way to the subway (what a cool city this is) and made our way back to Queens, where we joined Todd and Greg for final beers and some pool at a crowded pub. A taxi ride and a nightcap or two back at Greg's place and all-in-all it was another world-class birthday.

I look eagerly towards another year on Earth. Fingers crossed.

[Cosmic ChrisC]

Happy belated birthday Velvet!!

I love New York City and your post shows why! The City in snow must be wonderful to see.

Enjoy the last day of 2010!

[bouche]

Char grilled 10 oz burger made from our famous homemade meatball recipe (beef, pork, veal, herbs, and spices) topped with onion strings, lettuce, and tomato. Served with choice of fries, onion strings or salad.

Sounds like a great burger!

We were thinking of you when we went to the In N Out Burger.

Now I'm just jealous of you guys for seeing real prince. On first read, I thought you said a group of small people were standing behind him. I'd expect that being that he's so short. A posse of short people would make him appear taller.

We were about four feet away as people rushed all around us taking pictures. He looked me in the (glassy red) eyes and gave me a little smirk, his arm on a lady with a small group of people behind.

[kookycanooky]

[phishtaper]

mmmmmmm. i like. more.

[Im going home Donny]

Hmm..I had no idea how close I am in age to you Todd. Now I feel old. Esau style shin kicks coming your way buddy.

[Velvet]

Stardate 123010

Notched it up to almost seven hours of sleep last night, still woke up relatively early and Todd and I did a walkabout to try and find some morning coffees. The amount of snow on the ground here is really quite heavy. None of the sidewalks we were on had been plowed, the city seemed to be leaving it up to the people to get the job done, and the people were responding. We wound our way single-file through the neighbourhood and found the sidewalks had been rudimentary cleared by local residents, and everywhere people were still shovelling, and this was almost a week after the last storm.

After way too far (isn't there supposed to be a Starbucks on every corner in the US?) we found an Italian eatery that had coffees to go. The food was tempting but we got our coffees and weaved our way back to Greg's place. Bongs and caffeine were the order of the morning. Soon enough we were ready for lunch and went for a walk. This was my first time staying with a local in NYC, and what a difference. People in this city will always tell you where the best of something is (“You looking for pizza? Best pizza in NYC is right around the corner? You want pickles? Best pickles in NYC...â€), so actually having a tour guide guaranteed we were in for some yum, as yesterday's burger experience proved. In this case we were off to find the best bagel shop in NYC and whattya know, it was just a few blocks from Greg's place (which is how it always seems to work out).

Bagels the size of a baby's head, each loaded with about a pound of cream cheese, soup so thick you almost needed a steak knife to eat it, and delicious coffee ta boot. The soup came with unbelievably delicious toasted bagel chips that would have made an adequate meal alone. We even managed to grab a small table as the never-ending bagel line continued not-ending. Heather grabbed a dozen bagels and some cheese to take back and they filled two shopping bags to overflowing.

Back at Greg's for more bongs and leftover bagels. Later I gave our host a drive to the bank and in return he directed us to a slow drive-by of the Steinway piano factory, a large facility at the end of Steinway Street (of course). Forbidding and fenced in, the place gave off a definitive “no tours†vibe, so I settled for staring at the building that creates some of the world's finest musical instruments from the street and sighing a lot. I'm no piano player, but man, it's Steinway.

What a crazy city this is.

On the short drive back I noticed a car parked at a garage that was riddled with bullet holes, about eighteen through the driver-side front window alone. Crazy city indeed.

Eventually it was time to head into the city's core. We taxied to the El line and hopped the N Train downtown. Thus began a three-night series of pre- and post-show bar boozeups, each of which will forever bleed into one another in my quasi-memory. The first bar was packedpackedpacked with good folks getting primed for the run. Heather knows a zillion people on tour and they were all there. Handshakes and I-think-we've-met's all around and a pile of booze down my gulliver before we took the emptying bar as a signal to head to MSG. Of course I missed the posters so we headed up to our seats.

We were in basically the exact seats as last night, but on the other side, a good view from Fishman side. The lights went down and the joints started flying with impunity. Everyone was sharing with everyone else and the whole room shook their bones. The first set raged and we spent the setbreak at one of the many in-house bars, again surrounded by a plethora of Heather's tour friends. Another set of raging Phish and 22,000 happy hippies spilled out onto the streets. Another bar was in order, one where the drinks were poured thick and things started getting late. Somehow or another we ended up back in Queens safe and sound, we all wished each other a 5am Happy New Years Eve and collectively went down for the count.

[Ms.Huxtable]

Stardate 123010

... still woke up relatively early and Todd and I did a walkabout to try and find some morning coffees.

Whose writing these things?

[Velvet]

Schizolog

[timouse]

Stardate 123010

... still woke up relatively early and Todd and I did a walkabout to try and find some morning coffees.

Whose writing these things?

it's nothing. they practically write themselves.

[Northern Wish]

Thanks Velvet- its nice to hear what other folks did with their day times hours in NYC too.

We did more touristy shit than I ever thought possible, while seeing Phish on three consecutive nights.

I even made it out of bed in time for the free breakfast buffet in our hotel all three mornings which ended at 10am. That is a first!

[Hartamophone]

Stardate 123010

... still woke up relatively early and Todd and I did a walkabout to try and find some morning coffees.

Whose writing these things?

it's nothing. they practically write themselves.

He had them all written before the trip.

[Velvet]

Stardate 123110

Woke up earlier than I wanted on the final day of the first decade of the latest millennium and got into the bong hits straight away. Shuffled my way along the ever-widening sidewalks to the Italian joint for coffees to go. The weather has been warm since we arrived in NYC and has only been getting warmer, which seems to be playing into the mayor's “hope for warm weather†strategy quite well, though people everywhere were still shoveling; incessantly shoveling.

Some recovery was needed so we stayed mostly indoors, subsisting on our bags of bagels and little else, just like the day before. The things are huge I tell ya, you can't eat a whole one, especially now that they are starting to require some gnaw.

Five o'clock came too soon, but jointed up with a pocket full of Jagermeister and donning my festive googly-eye vest I got in the cab ready and willing for my first ever New Years Eve away. Once again the four of us taxied to the N Train for the trip to Manhattan, but 'twoud only be Heather, Todd and I arriving, Greg having committed to a wedding. Who gets married on New Years Eve? He got off somewhere around 49th while we continued on to 42nd.

We emerged from the subway into a city bursting with energy in all directions. A few blocks away the scattered remains of Dick Clark was hosting one of the most famous New Years celebrations in the world, watching for the ball to drop in Times Square with a zillion eyes watching. Hell, the shows you could go to, Chuck Berry playing over at BB King's, Gov't Mule at the famous Beacon Theatre, the Drive By Truckers, not to mention Phish; there's tons going on everywhere. This city kicks it pretty hard as a regular feature but for NYE things seems to be cranked up a few notches.

We had inadvertently been shut out of tickets for the December 31st Phish show, TicketBastard having erroneously issuing me wheelchair access tickets and then taking them away given that I am able-bodied. I assured them that I would get messed up enough to require much assistance, but they wouldn't budge no matter how many times I badgered their unbadgerable customer service (choke) which left us scrambling for a pair of very hard to get tickets.

And then lo, kindness reared it's karmic head. Friends we had stayed with at previous shows traded their pair of 100 Level tickets (and $160) for two pairs of 400 Level tickets. We had met up with them after the show last night and grabbed the tickets for face value, plus hugs.

So here we were on our way to the show of shows in the middle of our trip of shows. Happily we moved along through the throngs of people, once again past the Empire State Building to a bar for a pre-drink meetup with about seventy of Heather's friends.

And that's about when things start getting cloudy.

There was a downstairs room that had been booked for us all, making drinks pretty easy to get for a bar on NYE. I was partying pretty hard and making the rounds, clinging to people I recognised. At one point someone I didn't recognise appeared next to me, smiling. I gave him a fairly hearty hello, pretending that I remembered him as my faulty memory forces me to do so often, when he introduced himself to me as Hart. Exactly a year ago Hart and I were embroiled in a nailbiter together. We had both entered a writing contest and were both very interested in finishing in the top ten, and though we hadn't met in person before our message board connection morphed into a two-man email support group for about a month or so. In the end we both came in the top ten, getting our stories published nationally and getting some sweet prizes as well, but lack of proximity had preventing us from meeting and raising a glass in celebration together. So Hart and his lady Sarah were across the room partying it up, having come into NYE tickets though kindness of a friend as well, when he recognised my googly-eye vest from past mayhem and came up to say hi. I spent the next hour or so gabbing away with them, getting drunker and drunker. Sarah and Hart left, the room started to dwindle. A trip into the bathroom for some more party and we were back on the street headed for the show.

It would take much effort the next day to remember draining the bottle of Jager before we went into Madison Square Garden, and that certainly played a part in my festivities. I believe we went to the bar inside MSG for more (increasingly unnecessary) drinks – was this when I ran into Basher? - and then to our seats, more beers in hand.

Even up in the 400 Level this venue is nothing but class, and the relative roominess and the great people around us made Heather and I quite happy to stay and not bother stubbing up. The room was buzzing – I'm sure it wasn't just me – some were in costume and everyone was primed for a great three sets of fun. I think the joints were blazing before the lights even went down, but when the place went dark it was a free-for-all. The 400's have their own concession stands so we were always just a few steps from lineup-free beverages, and I sucked back those arena-priced beers like I was a millionaire. At the end of the first set I had a full beer in my hand and somewhere deep inside came a voice that saved me (and by extension Heather) from a perilous evening. Now that I'm 43 I guess I'm mature enough to know when to say when, so I put that beer down and decided to decline all other intoxicants until at least the third set.

Shortly into the second set I decided food (other than bagels) would be helpful so I staggered up the stairs for nachos and cheese. Never ordered it at a concert before and probably wouldn't do it again, but it probably saved my ass. I spent the rest of the set nibbling away instead of sucking more beers.

I thought the NYE gag was pretty cool, all the singers onstage was a great idea that came off well, and the hot dog ride was a classic sight to behold. That combined with the hot dog stands onstage gave me the idea that the band had arranged for everyone in the Gardens to get a real hot dog, and I kept glancing at the aisle expecting to see MSG employees handing food out to the fans. I just couldn't get it out of my head and it was fairly distracting. I kept looking for them and the hot dogs kept not coming. The band was throwing plastic weiners to the crowd as they rode to the stage and thinking they were real only fueled my belief that I had a red hot coming. I came around for the countdown, and smooched my lady heartily to ring in the new year, though I went back to looking for hot dogs and basically missing Auld Lang Sine.

I somehow shook my disappointment and got back to having a great time, though at second setbreak I let Heather go off to the bar alone, as I silently stared down my still-untouched beer. As a matter of fact, that beer stayed untouched until the excellent First Tube encore a full other set later, and newly mature me found himself back in the saddle, ready to overindulge again. I pounded the beer as we wound down the stairs of Madison Square Gardens, and we burst forth into the Big Apple, which was still shaking with energy in these early minutes of 1/1/11. For some reason I found myself in possession of a light sabre, and strangely I knew how to use it. I cut a swath through the crowds, yelling out things like “Watch out, the guy's got a light sabre!†and “Careful, the guy's got a light sabre!â€

On the way to the bar we saw two people on the ground messed up man, I mean like fifty hits of acid messed up. They were slithering around on the sidewalk while their friends tried to keep them somewhat together, which was clearly impossible. It was like two thermometers had broken and spilled out drooling squirms of mercury. There but by the grace of holding off for those two sets, go I. Well, almost.

We went to the same bar as before the show, but upstairs this time. I continued with my millionaire spending spree and kept the heathens at bay with my incoherent wit and nifty neon light saber. Under hypnosis I may someday remember where the sombrero came from, but in retrospect I think the most amusing part about that is that I constantly forgot I was wearing it. I be walking around in my googly-eye vest making cool vrooom.....vrooooom....vvvvvvvvrooom sounds with my nifty light saber all loaded and loose and thinking I looked pretty swank among the NYC crowd, and there I was wearing a ridiculous sombrero the whole time. No me gusta!

You'd think they'd have the mercy to close the bar down or stop serving us or something, but instead I remember tequila shots and the like going on for hours and hours. Fuck, it occurs to me now that of course people were buying tequila, me in that that sombrero and all. Anyway, I can't imagine how late it was when we got out of there, but without our host Greg to point the way Heather, Todd and I ended up waiting forever for the subway before getting on headed in the wrong direction. We realised our mistake soon enough (Jedi powers, mi amigo) and decided to bail on the train and find a cab back to Queens. It was astounding how many taxis would not stop for the three of us. You always see that in the movies, people trying in vain to hail a cab in New York City, and here it was. Yellow cabs were everywhere, constantly zipping by; it took forever waving my light saber around before we finally got one.

I suspect someone slipped something into one of my drinks at the bar (they would have had many, many opportunities), because I slipped in and out of consciousness the whole ride back. Made it to Greg's, got to the door and had one of those “I don't have the key†“Well, I don't have the key†moments, three frozen stares contemplating varied unpleasant possibilities for the remainder of the evening.

I had the key. Inside and up the stairs and straight to bed; I slept like a dead man. A very loud snoring dead man.

Buenos Neuves Anos amigos.

[Davey Boy 2.0]

I wouldn't want to go through a RIDE program after reading this thread!

[AD]

Or put out any recycling!

[peipunk]

Or be saving up for anything that cost money!

[Booche]

Or having had that taxi been a BMW!

[jaybone]

My liver hurts from reading that. Or maybe it is just telling me it's time for a beer.

[backbacon]

Awesome read, Velvet! I love it that I don't really have to travel anywhere ever to get the full experience of going. So cost effective!

---------------------------------------------------

"Jedi powers, mi amigo."

[phishtaper]

MORE! Get to the part where Kelly Rippa gave you a lap dance!!

[Velvet]

Stardate 010111

The Gods Of Mercy took pity and allowed me a bit of a sleep in before waking up hangover-free. Anticipating rampant New Years Day closings I opted against walking to the Italian place and instead hopped in the car and found me a Dunkin' Donuts. I tend to avoid establishments that sanction spelling mistakes but these guys sure know how to make a coffee cup lid, so I bit the bullet and patronised. The weather had continued it's upwards trek leaving the sidewalks pretty much cleared. Four days in the city and the only snow removal equipment I've seen so far is a single garbage truck with a snow plow attached to the front. Everyone was still shoveling, shoveling, shoveling with their tiny city shovels – just like always these New Yorkers pulled together and solved their problem themselves.

Back at Greg's place consensus landed on take-out sushi, and as is the sushi standard, the five of us ordered enough to feed about twenty people. I don't dig on the fish so it was salad and beef teriyaki for me, with an obligatory side of crusted bagel. The stash was getting low so I arranged a bit of a refill and kept the bong a-rockin' for most of the afternoon. I managed to choke down a couple of rye and cokes before heading out for yet another pre-drink bar session. Call a cab, get to the N Train and into the city core for us. This stuff was starting to get old hat.

This time Heather's friends had booked a private back room at one of the bars we had been at previously. The bar was packed and so was the back room, though the back room ended up having a spacious back room of it's own, which was hosting a slew of nefarious acts. Things started getting a bit loud and weird and just in the nick of time it was time to get to the show.

Back out on the street, once again a stroll past the Empire State Building (I'm starting to understand how the locals can just walk by these iconic landmarks without even a glance), and into Madison Square Garden. I got shut out of poster purchasing again, which played nicely into my diminishing finances, and we made it up to our seats.

We were in the same section we had for Prince, which seemed so long ago, and were soon joined by the friends that had traded down to get us NYE tickets. I expected the crowd to be subdued tonight, surely everyone had a bit of a hangover going on from the big night, but I was wrong. People really like this Phish band, and the energy level for their first ever January 1st show was high. There was lots of speculation about something unique happening, a U2 or Metallica cover, Gamehenge, who knows what these guys have cooked up, but no, it was just a normal fantastic show. Phish is truly one of the best bands out there, so on top of their game musically, and their vast experience and current sobriety level pretty much guarantees a show somewhere between great and amazing. Once again security was of no consequence and everything flowed freely.

I made a point of staying kinda sober for this one, though over a three day average it still worked out to me be loaded as hell, I shunned the arena beer and just enjoyed the show unencumbered by sloshiness. After the show we went for post drinks with the crowd again and decompressed. Late in the evening the back room's back room got busted by the bartender and we all got the boot. The four of us were lucky enough to find ourselves invited to a small NO2 party in an ultra-swanky hotel that kept us giggling to the wee hours.

We somehow managed to take our leave of the place before being asked to and hopped a cab to Queens. The car took us over the 59th Street bridge inspiring the four of us to belt out Feelin' Groovy in cacophonic harmony. I'd like to think the cabbie even joined in, but that seems unlikely. Another 5am arrival in Queens and one last time I went down for the count, my body growing more and more exhausted with every moment I spend in this crazy city.