It's Not a Bar Fight When it's on a Boat

*photo: property of www.theyoungandthehungry.com

What: Bar Fight
Where: The Frying Pan
Who: My roommates, myself, miscellaneous rowdy men

I find it remarkable that I have been in New York City for months and just recently saw my first bar fight; or rather I saw a ‘boat fight.’ On Saturday night I went to the Frying Pan as a send off for one of my roommates who is leaving for London.

Located on the Hudson, the Frying Pan, is a boat that is permanently docked and serves as a bar in the warmer months. There are two smaller side boats, the first of which has dancing down below at the base of the ship.

After having one drunken jock approach me, initiating a fight, on my walk through the dock to the ship I realized I had entered a rowdy location. I made my way over to the further side boat and found my friends seated around a large table.

Within ten minutes my attention turned to the party of thirty next to us. One man at the table next to us was shouting at a guy on the main boat, which could not have been more than three feet away. The guy on the main boat was urinating off the side of the main boat into the direction of the side boat. A shouting match ensued when the party next to us proceeded to take an innocent picture of themselves and the Pisser accused them of trying to snap a photo of his ‘piece.’ (Definition number 7 in the link)

One of the girls at the party turned out to be a quite a firecracker and started throwing bottles at the Pisser and one broke upon hitting him. The Pissers friends started shouting and in return the guys at the Party table decided to take action. Instead of walking twenty feet down the side boat to dock back onto the main boat they decided to take a scene straight out of a pirate movie. Five of the guys in the Party climbed up the railing of the side boat and jumped to the railing of the main boat and scaled up the side.

Moments later the Pisser was in a chokehold and one of his friends was being punched in the face. Fists were thrown and men were falling to the ground. At least ten people were taking part in this fight; the guys from the Party outnumbering the Pisser’s friends exponentially.

One female bartender tried to shout to stop the fight while her male counterpart continued serving drinks. Without adequate security at this location the fight was not broken up. Instead it continued with punches being thrown, men rolling on the floor, and violent words until the Pisser and his friends retreated.

Just when I thought I had witnessed a great fight, the girl who threw the bottle that smashed over the Pisser proceeded to go onto the main boat and retrieve the Pisser’s food which had been delivered and left untouched. Needless to say this girl is now my hero.

Goals Accomplished:
1) First New York Bar Fight
2) Not terribly uncomfortable...there were no bottles aimed at me
3) The firecracker girl taught me that you truly can have your cake and eat it too...and if you want to have a successful bar fight without any arrests, do it at a place like the Frying Pan where security is lacking

Is That Your Third Cheeseburger?

What: Charity Event
Where: 230 Fifth, Rooftop
Who: Phil, his friends, me

A friend of mine recently invited me to a charity event. Struck at the idea that someone thought I had anything to give intrigued me. I became even more intrigued when said friend told me that he does marketing for the company supplying the liquor and that they would be footing the bill for our tickets.

Now that I had become charity too, I agreed to go. The liquor company he was promoting, Rokk Vodka, is a new brand that is directly trying to compete with Svedka. While I found Rokk’s packaging tacky, ripping off Svedka’s, I found their willingness to contribute to charity for me more than compensatory.

All of the money raised was going to the GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation)foundation. I was told that countless ‘C’ list celebrities would be there in support as well as free food and drinks. With more of my focus on food than the nameless faces I arrived at 230 Fifth at 7:00 PM; right when the event was starting.

After meeting up with my friend, Phil, and his three friends we went upstairs to the top floor where there was a red carpet and paparazzi snapping photos of who I can only assume were celebrities. Instead of waiting around to find out who they were I scurried up the stairs to the rooftop in the hopes of getting Rokk’s contribution worth in food.

On the rooftop there were more people than I had anticipated and moving around was difficult. Among the crowd were at least a dozen young men walking around in bathing suits, something that did not strike me as particularly unusual for a gay event. However, the clipboards in their hand did. In fact, they were part of a silent auction; their bathing suits were being sold to the highest bidder. As someone who has a hard enough time rationalizing a new $60 bathing suit I could not fathom paying for a dirty one.

The night itself was nothing out of the ordinary, it was a free party with men walking around in practically nothing, a few celebrity faces I recognized and could not place (until I Googled them later), and a ton of free food and alcohol. Some of the more interesting Google results were as follows: Bethenny Frankel (Real Housewives of New York and host of the party), Thomas Roberts (MSNBC anchor), and Johnny Weir (Olympic Gold Medalist.)

The only difference between this and the launch party I attended was that the crowd was bitchier. Various people negatively commented on others attire or asked if eating that fourth cheeseburger was a good idea.

Person X (wearing a pink and white plaid shirt): Is that your third cheeseburger?
Me: Fourth actually.
Person X: Are you sure you need that?
Me: This coming from the guy wearing a tablecloth as a shirt?

Within moments the gentleman had taken the cheeseburger from my hand and thrown it off the roof deck.

I can only imagine who it fell on below and what lucky rodent got to eat my delicious burger.

Goals Accomplished:
1) First charity event
2) Closest I got to being uncomfortable was being called out for eating so much
3) Learned that it is important to hold tightly onto your free food

5 AM?! Why Wouldn't I be at a Concert in Central Park?

What: Summer Concert Series: Usher

Where: Central Park

Who: Erica and Me

When a friend emailed me with an invitation to attend Good Morning America’s Summer Concert Series in the Central Park I accepted not realizing the repercussions of such an agreement.

At 5:30 AM on Friday morning my alarm told me that I was already ten minutes late. I was to meet my friend, Erica, in 15 minutes near the park. I stumbled out of bed and into, what can only be described as, the night. Upon meeting Erica in the Upper East Side we walked to the 72nd Street entrance of Central Park.

There we waited in the wrong line for twenty minutes. Upon reaching the front of the line we were told that those with VIP tickets had to wait in a separate line, so we took our seemingly wonderful VIP tickets and waited another ten minutes in a line that awarded us a bracelet that signified our status.

We were then led past the crowd and into a gated area right in front of the stage where we would wait for the next two hours. The performer was supposed to be Rihanna, but much to my dismay she cancelled and Usher would be performing instead. The twelve year old girls and their mothers did not seem to share my disdain. Instead they hailed posters, screamed, and occasionally lifted their shirts in the hopes that they would be like one of the lucky thousands of girls before them to make it backstage.

Usher appeared thirty minutes later to have a stagehand walk him through his performance. The instructions he was given were interrupted by the prepubescent girls and their mothers screaming for his attention.

Not terribly engaged in Usher’s ability to follow the stagehand around I geared my attention to the two women who had started a fight. One could only guess what they were fighting about, but I hoped that at least one of the following scenarios had ensued:

1) One of the females referred to Usher as “her man”
2) One had accidentally bumped into the other
3) One had stolen the other’s boyfriend years ago, became pregnant, and this was the first time they had seen each other since

Regardless of the reasoning behind the fight, the visual of the two women, with their hair standing up and their clothes slightly torn, was enough for me. Others attempted to compete with this excitement, the girl that passed out, the woman who used Erica as an armrest, the girl that lied down on the pavement and put her legs between mine, but none of them came close to the intensity of the fight.

Another hour of scanning the crowd for a fight and Usher finally came on after being presented by Robin Roberts and George Stephanopoulos, both of whom left something to be desired. Their pasted on smiles and raised eyebrows may have translated well on TV, but were fairly creepy in person.

Usher performed, or rather danced, his way through two songs, neither of which I knew. His vocals could hardly be heard over the music, but his constant hip thrusts at dancers wearing their weight in make-up were evident.

It was an amusing performance that was made more enticing by the common belief among that crowd that each and every one of them was his biggest fan.

Upon finishing his second set, Erica and I bolted from the stage area and ran to the outskirts of the park to avoid any chaos that would ensue. Waiting three hours to hear two songs we could only assume that other concert goers had pent up energy. If this post sounds like a lot of buildup only to be let down, well then you now share my sentiment about the performance.

Goals Accomplished:
1) First time going to a concert in the morning and seeing Usher perform (safe to say the last as well)

2) Uncomfortable being around the massive amounts of estrogen
3) Learned VIP means standing in two lines

Ridin' Solo

*Picture from www.wired.com (one of my favorite publications)

What: Bicycling (Manhattan-Style)
Where: Midtown down to the World Financial Center
Who: Me

About a month ago I became dead set on the idea of riding my bike to work. And then, approximately two weeks ago, I summoned up the courage to do so. Having absolutely no idea how far it was from Midtown East down to the World Financial Center I assumed it must be a short distance, in my mind, with Manhattan being a tiny island, I thought a mile tops (probably something I should not be openly admitting). But when put into Google Maps, one can find the actual distance of 6 miles, not an epic feat, but a fair ride for 8 AM.

The route seemed simple enough; all I had to do was to get from the East Side (Lexington Avenue) over to the West Side and then I could take the bike path that runs along the West Side Highway all the way to my office.

Taking the bicycle down the stairs of my apartment (a feat in and of itself) and arriving on the street, immediately I realized that I was not in Connecticut anymore and the chances of being hit by a car grew hunredfold. Buckling my helmet and throwing caution to the wind I mounted the bicycle and headed East on Lexington to eventually go down one block so that I could go West. It was at this moment that I decided not to be a bike that went the wrong way down one-ways.

90% scared and 10% euphoric (for not having to ride the subway) I peddled down Lexington and then took a right to make it over to the West Side. It was going smoothly until I was stuck in traffic due to a red light and could not decide if I wanted to ride up the side of the cars to the front of the line; something I have seen many bikers do. While I started to edge towards the front of the line I ran into a series of obstacles: cars tried to pull out, taxi passengers were opening their doors, and people were j-walking. Having to swerve every 3 seconds to avoid inevitable death I decided to wait until traffic began to move.

I thought I had beat all the obstacles when I hit 8th Avenue until a fellow biker, a delivery man of sorts, was coming towards me going the wrong way down a one-way. Not only was he going the wrong direction, he proceeded to edge me out into the road so that I could not ride next to the parked cars. Disgusted I looked back to see if I was going to be hit, luckily I was not, but it took every ounce of effort for me not to casually reach out and knock the man off his bike as he passed (something I cannot promise will be done in the future.)

Finally, making it to the path on the West Side Highway I rode leisurely down to my office where I parked in the garage and was ushered into the freight elevator to go upstairs. Not realizing that I could not stop in the bathroom before the elevator I showed up on the floor of my building sweating profusely in a tank top and shorts (read: not the best way to get ahead in the ‘finance world.’)

After running into the bathroom to change I realized I had made the second mistake of the day, I had put all of my belongings into my roommates ‘Glee’ bag and had to proceed to carry that around the office for the day. The ridicule between wearing a ‘beater’ and carrying a ‘Glee’ bag that ensued for the rest of the day was quite humorous…for the rest of the office.

I plan on riding in at least once a week.

I have never felt so refreshed going into work, it was probably the combination of the fresh air by the water, not being in the subway, and the constant fear that I might die at any moment.

Goals Accomplished:

1) First time riding a bike "Manhattan-Style"
2) Wildly uncomfortable riding close to cars

3) Learned that other bikers can be worse than the cars on the road