Summer Vacation - New Yorks

I boarded the first train out of New Orleans on July 1 at 7am. Heading north, by way of Atlanta the pregnant train lurched toward New York and the first leg of my summer vacation began. I chose to take trains for the first half of my trip from New Orleans, to New York and then on to Chicago. My choice was twofold: experience the country by rail and reduce my carbon footprint while doing so. Halfway to DC, the conductor got on the loud speaker to announce that we would be stopping in DC for an extended amount of time to switch engines from the current diesel engine to an electric engine. My carbon higher ground fallacy was instantly replaced by my growing affection for rolling through the American country side.  I brought sandwiches, fruits and nuts. I bought beverages: coffee and juice. I forgot a sweat shirt but had my sarong, so had some form of coverage. They gave me a pillow.

In Alabama, an Indian man sat next to me. He was headed to DC for the long weekend. He got on the train in the middle of the night and we didn’t start talking until we were about 30 minutes outside of DC. He is studying at Clemson, pursuing his graduate degree in Mechanical Engineering. He’s been in the country for about a year and heading to DC to visit a former classmate from India. His first time in DC.  I proudly showed him the Bollywood film I’d be giving Lauren and Brian for their wedding present. He obliged accordingly by telling me about, and writing down, the title of the sequel to that same film.  We shook hands as he departed for his weekend in the capital city of the United States.

I got to NY a mere 3 hours late, 33 hours after leaving New Orleans, spectacular in Amtrak terms.  Just in time for rush hour, me with an unwieldy amount of mismatched bag sizes and shapes, NY en masse collectively helped me to successfully navigate despite the obvious baggage hazards. I met up with Janna, who finished her last day of work and was cleaning out her office. I got to see her out of that office and into her summer.

From Wall Street to Coney Island, I found the Belski-Russ pre-party. Fireworks, beer, laughter, reunion, shoot the freak, wonder wheel, beach glass, joy. It all coalesced and I was so happy to be home. I rode bikes to the soon to be newlyweds homestead with Lauren, Jess, Mike and Jeff. And Lauren talked resolutely about keeping her name because, shit, its her name!

I had trouble sleeping that night, so I finished the other gift I prepared for all the OLL-ers that would be at the wedding – a movie to commemorate our time together on the rez.  Finished that, but still seemed uneasy.  Jenelle and I had a good talk and my nerves settled. Jenelle and I talked till past dawn and saw Kate and Will out, beginning their wedding prep work for the flower arrangements. I slept for maybe an hour or two.

Wedding rehearsal day! We were to be at the Boathouse for 1, 1:15 at the latest, do not be there after 1:30.  I got my baggage settled at the place I’d be crashing at, one of Kate’s friends has a flat in Sunset Park and was out of town for the weekend.  She also has a grey cat called Gusto, who made everything all right. Amanda, Cary, Jenelle and I crashed there for the weekend.

Walked through the ceremony, and I became keenly aware of the ritualization and ceremonial celebration of Lauren and Brian’s love. The night of the wedding rehearsal was a little messy. Open bar at Sunny’s, a dope spot in Red Hook, Brooklyn.  I indulged. And wore three inch spikes. I felt badddd. The wedding wasn’t until 7pm on July 4 and I didn’t have to be at the boat house until 5pm.  I offered to help hype-man for Pat while he mc’ed the reception.  I was also told of a party that would be happening after Sonny’s at Brian’s house. Or I possibly just hoped for that and convinced a car-load of people to storm the groom’s house post-Sonny’s.  Following this impulse, I also asked Alexis to meet me at Brian’s place as well.  Arriving at Brian’s after the car-load, I realized that I might have editorialized the party sentiment and Brian reminded me that it was in fact the night before his wedding and not his bachelor party.

Amanda and Cary reached the apartment in Sunset Park in the early afternoon the day of the wedding. Amanda and Jenelle rehearsed the song they were to sing at the reception, ‘No One’ by Alicia Keys – Amanda on vocal and Jenelle on guitar.  They practiced while Pat and I met in Sunset Park to work out details for the flow of the reception.  Time was winding down to the wedding. I arranged flowers and saged the boathouse before the guests arrived.  As guests arrived I offered them sage clearing and Jenelle offered them a tuning fork clearing.  It was great.

I had only previously considered the event to be a party to draw together the various cohorts accumulated throughout their lives into one communal and collective gathering. And it was!! But it was also so much more!! We collectively gave our intention to Lauren and Brian to support their loving relationship, and they vowed to do that for each other. Jenelle wept. I was struck by the purity and organic thoughtfulness displayed in the ceremony making it obvious that every detail was intended to reflect the love that Lauren and Brian share for one another.  They had a photo booth at the reception too!  Then the Beatles played!!

We went to Lauren’s bar afterward and drank until 4.  I sat on the pavement with Colleen and Ellen and lit sparklers while they told me ghost stories from their lives in Virginia. I sat at the bar with Ben and Joe and laughed while they sloppily sputtered about nonsense. I danced with Javier and Amanda while they started a Soul Train.  I drank with Steve and Jenelle while Steve recounted his vision for his mock-encyclopedic venture into medical misinformation.  I lovingly pet Christine’s puppy. As we climbed into the cab heading away from the scene, we heard a horn blaring at Pat for riding his bike in the middle of the road.  Reaching Sunset Park too tired to struggle with the blow up bed, Jenelle and I slept on top of the deflated bed. 

Drinking all night, the excitement of the trip, a warm New York summer morning all peeled me off the vinyl blow up bed five hours after plopping down on it. It was 11:30 at this point. I sat at the kitchen table, struggled to focus my vision, looked down and noticed a note requesting us to be out by 11:30-12. I woke everyone up and like champs we were out by 12.

Day after the wedding. Lauren’s parents hosted a brunch at the Park Slope brownstone they rented for the festivities. Lots of the previous night’s attendees were there, bleary eyed and blissfully touched by the force of love that we all mutually experienced in bearing witness to Lauren and Brian’s union. Its as if we all got married to each other that day.  We did in fact vow to Lauren and Brian that we would honor the sanctity of their union in our actions.  So we did more of that at the brunch. Sharing stories, pictures, hugs and farewells.

Amanda, Cary and I brought Jenelle to the train station where she’d begin her journey to Chicago. With Jenelle en route, Amanda, Cary and I went to Lauren and Brian’s house to soak up just a little more of their wonderfulness. They packed, we shared more stories and laughed and laughed. We all went to eat Mexican food.  Saying goodbye to the newlywed couple, wishing them well on their travels to Nicaragua and generally enjoying the high of the celebration, we got into Amanda’s rental car and they brought me to Harlem.

Three days of open bars, late nights and insanely compromising shoes, I got to Harlem ready to keep it moving with Janna to celebrate her recent extraction from corporate non-profitism. Alexis, wanting to shake her tail feathers, also met us in Harlem. 

‘Bobbito in the Barber-shop’ was a classic, straight off the street hip hop show on the infamous Hot 97 throughout the 90s. It was on Sundays at 7pm, something like that. Bobbito, being a cultivator of all things cool, showcased various up and coming artists that we as the masses should throw our attention towards. As hip-hop evolved and corporate culture subsumed the form in NY, his show became less and less relevant.  Artists didn’t need the street cred that Bobbito could offer, they needed the prospect of signing bonuses that record labels promised. So being the knowledgeable woman she is, Janna knew of a spot that Bobbito dj’s at monthly. Alexis, Janna and I headed to 115^th and 1^st. The music was great, my energy was low, but Bobbito was vibing and I felt so happy to watch him dig through his records.  I took a break for a while outside and noticed a garbage truck on the corner.  It’s logo said, “Its all about garbare” I asked a guy coming out of the bar “Is that a typo or am I just not aware of what garbare is?” He looked at the truck, laughed and responded, “I think it’s a typo, but I also think they’re business model is flawed.” I realized the complete sentence read, “Its all about garbare, Its all our bussiness.” He walked away as I giggled.