Castor Oil...sickeningly good

Monday, January 17, 2005

Going to hell in a rocket powered taxicab

We blasted off to New York on Friday morning. I had Philito and the lovely Jenn (better half of Philito) with me while Wes and Ben followed a bit back in another car. The drive up was smooth, we chattered about nothing much and I introduced the lovely couple to Hanoi Rocks and L.S.D. We found out all sorts of things about each other including who used to do what regarding the kinds of things we always swore we would never do. I think we each scared one another in a totally good way.

Less than four hours from departure we arrived in New York and headed to the hotel in Union Square which, of course, was nowhere near Union Square (fuck you very much Expedia). On the way we saw the Naked Cowboy and other harbingers of the apocalypse and I quickly reacclimated myself to Manhattan driving courtesy which is to simply have none and drive like a hound from hell on his way to an all you can eat buffet of innocent and delicious cherubs; fast, aggressive and wholly without mercy. We arrived at the Hotel Pennsylvania on 7th Avenue which was neither blandly novuea nor charmingly shabby but simply dirty and dingy and a real fucking dump. The door to our room resembled a submarine hatch and I found myself quoting Han Solo as I walked in....“what an incredible smell you’ve discovered….”

So we gagged and left quickly to head over to Club Plaid. Philito had ascertained that the club was closed to the public but open to us to load in so off we went merrily wrong-turning and curb hopping and rubbernecking up the road and had a good old time. We finally found the club and banged on the big steel door and upon squeaking of hinges went in and checked out the digs. Very nice place, a dance club in front and a big band room in the back. Good lights and sound gear it seemed, very clean bathrooms, well stocked bars and lots of sofas. Good vibe at Club Plaid.

As we were mostly using Maggie Kim’s stuff load-in was nominal and after parking the car for the night we were done and free to roam the town. I called my friend Dub John (he’s from Dublin…duh) and met him at a bar down the street. John is an interesting character and we have had lots of adventures together in the past. He purports to not like me but I know he really loves and cherishes me. I think it’s just that Irish thing, they’re nasty little people maybe as a result of getting screwed on royalties for Lucky Charms and Irish Spring, who knows? But I digress. John started regaling us with stories and we were all laughing and laughing and going outside to smoke and freeze our asses off. I had a nasty Boddington’s Ale which was kinda sad but quickly got over it. Wes and Ben had arrived into town so we bid (bade?) John farewell and walked back to Plaid to soundcheck. Soundchecking without equipment is tough so we mostly sat around making stupid jokes until Maggie's gang showed up. When they did we figured as time was short they could pretty much soundcheck for us as we were sharing the same gear. Same gear, same sound, no big deal, good plan, right? Wrong. Oh well…….

Soundcheck over we all left together and went to grab some dinner and laughed and laughed and laughed some more. Generally we were having a really good time as we were in New York on a Friday night to play a rock and roll show and that just doesn’t suck. After chowing Wes and Ben headed back to the club (being normal) while Philito and I hailed a cab to go back to the Shithole Pennsylvania (being ego-maniacs) to change clothes and drink from his flask and marvel at our own inherent awesomeness.

Cab pulls up, we get in and give the destination, driver hits the meter and all of a sudden it’s a scene from Men in Black as we’re in a goddamn rocket car careening through the streets of New York. This car was flying, we went blocks in mere seconds, we were about to smash a car and then *poof!* it’s left safely in the wake of our acceleration. It was bizarre. Just weeks ago I had a drunk cab driver in Lubbock Texas named Hound Dog almost kill me. In the past I have been kicked out of a cab on a bridge span and ended up in the hospital for stitches as a result of taxi antics but I have never, ever, had a cab ride like this one. Not only was this undoubtedly the fastest cab on the planet (and beyond) but it was apparently driven by an Armenian shaman who can defy the laws of physics and bend matter to his will through the force of his mind and steering wheel horn. It was terrifying but so unbelievable that the fear was sorta….funny. I had to change my underwear of course but I’m still glad for the experience. Upon screeching to a stop at the hotel and walking shaky-legged through the lobby we took the elevator to the 2nd floor and entered our hovel through the submarine hatch.

Safely in our rented filth we all started laughing, (and drinking whiskey). I changed into new black pants and pointy shoes and it was all “watch out New York it’s going to be an ambiguously homosexual rock and roll maelstrom!!!!!!” Jenn laughed at us and said we were cute and we blushed and headed to the cab stand keeping a wary eye out for that Mr. Sulu warp speed motherfucker with a hack license all the while.

A nice safe minivan cab pulled up and we sighed breaths of relief and got in. Our driver grumbled something and went to pull out into traffic but was blocked in by the cab ahead of him. He honked to no avail and went to back up and go around but another cab had pulled up right behind us. So minivan lays on the horn over and over until the guy in front pulls up a bit. Minivan pulls up next to him and rolls down the window “YOU BLOCK ME IN STUPID FATASS MOTHERFUCKER MOVE YOUR FUCKING STUPID ASS NEXT TIME PIECE OF SHIT FAT FAGGOT MOTHERFUCKER FUCK YOU IN YOUR STUPID ASS YOU STUPID SHIT!” and screeches out into traffic. Wow!

So Philito in a show of rock attitude solidarity says something like “you told him” and minivan stares into the rearview mirror with nothing but cold murder in his eyes.

Minivan – “……..(very quietly)…what did you say?”
Philito – “uhhhh…..good….job?”
Minivan – “I thought so”

After that things were pretty quiet for the rest of the ride.

Minivan the homicidal cab driver dropped us a block from the club (“get out here”) and we skipped away happy that we had our necks intact and ready to rock and roll away. We entered Plaid past the 900 pound bouncer and smiled from ear to ear. It was only 9:45 and Plaid was rocking well, lots of people drinking and yelling and having a ball. We all had some friends there so we went our separate ways (do not sing Journey) and rocked and bopped and had a blast. My friend Ali Baba showed up and hugged me to the point of spinal distenegration as he is prone to do and we hung out with the big crowd he brought with him. It was really fun. Somewhere along the way I must have missed something of very high proof and volume because in the blink of an eye Ali Baba says “Bowes…I’m drunk. Man, I’m having fun…but I AM DRUNK!!!!!” He turned to the bartender wearing Spiderman Underoos and said, “I need another drink……this night has a long way to go!!!!”

And as she turned her web-covered behind to get more booze a chill went through the air and right into my liver. The night had truly just begun and baby we had a long way to go……..


  • ?.... a web shot out her ... uh, web shooter...!?

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:11 AM  

  • Poor Flaskly went missing in action, stalwart as always. The night, and his memory shall forever burn on.

    By Blogger Phil Rossi, at 9:39 AM  

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