Rants & Essays
My Trip to NYC or FreakMeet at Penn Station
By Marcus Pan
Though the odds stacked against me inasfar as transportation
goes, most of you know by now that we made it out to the Sisters of Mercy
Concert. If you are so interested that you want details, well this post will
serve that purpose. If you want to see the bad things I have to say about
everyone who was there, see previous sentence. ;) So, this is how it went.
A week before the concert (yes, I'm going back a bit...trust
me, it is relevant) my fiance's mother & her new husband (you'll all
remember "One Simple Dance," yes?) took off on a trip to Mexico for their
honeymoonish engagements. While honeymooning across the hot, dry, bad-water
country the mom in question left the car pretty much quiet and minding its own
business in the driveway. So for convenience purposes and so that I wouldn't
have to give up my car at ALL during the week (rare, indeed), Laura and I
loaded the babygoth Felicia into the Ford and drove off to the shore town to
get the idle one for her weekly purposes. So she does, and we head back home
On the way home, not quite enjoying the rain and chill of
the outdoors on this fine evening although my daughter found fit to leisurely
nod off in the back, I had the audacity to lock my brakes and do a nice slidey
thing coming off the highway. The Ford leisurely sailed through the air with
the greatest of unease and kachunked rather harshly onto the too-tall-curb
island thing that was mishappenly placed simply to cause me personal grief and
inconvenience. That's when the right tire blew up. First worry being not so
much the car, but the just-a-week-from-one-year-birthday daughter of mine in
the back seat, I turned thusly to see that she was simply woken up by the
aforementioned kachunk and was now looking at me with a facial expression that
can only be described as yelling, "You nugget!"
So I limped on down the road to the nearest Dunkin Donuts
(well, I might as well get coffee). So I prepare to call Triple-A, who come and
fix nuggets like me on a regular basis. That's when I realize I don't have the
cellular. So I go to the payphone outside and stand rummaging in the cold,
harsh rain to realize I don't have a quarter either. I wrestle with the car
seat, pick Felicia up and trudge into the Dunkin Donuts where I try to explain
just what "change" is to the non-English speaking clerk in as nice a way as I
can see fit by this point (which was anything BUT). I go back outside, wrestle
with the car seat to get the baby into it, and call Triple A. So the guy asks
me what street I'm on. Umm. Umm. Wrestle with the car seat AGAIN and go back to
the undecipherable clerk to find out exactly what damn intersection I'm sitting
on. Then I go back outside and put Felicia in the car seat for the third time
(or so). I call AGAIN, give the proper information and am told that it'll take
40 minutes. Back in my car, I put away the paperwork and lay my head back, eyes
closed. By chance I open my eyes.
There, fifteen feet from me and has been the entire time, is
a tow truck with the BIGGEST goddamn "AAA" sign emblazoned on it's side that
ever I did see. He looks at me at precisely the same time as he gets the page
to come get me...I feel like hiding. Anyway, here he comes.
He fixes my tire and I take Felicia out of the car seat for
the fourth or fifth time (I've lost count by now) and go in to get coffee for
him and I. As I come out, Laura pulls up (I had called her after AAA) and
decides, well, there's no reason to be there. Off she goes. Felicia and I get
in the car. Cup of coffee for me goes spilling all over the place. Like I
couldn't have JUST a flat tire. (sigh)
Anyway, the irony of this point is: we got Laura's mother's
car so I could have mine all week. But the powers that be determined otherwise.
If I wouldn't have gone to get that car, mine would be fine and I'd have one
car. But I did go to get the car, fucked up mine, and now still have one car.
What does this all have to do with the Sisters of Mercy concert? Pretty simple.
I was to pick up Emily in that car that now needs a new tire and front control
So Bane and I have to make last-minute plans. So instead of
picking her up, heading up to Jill's to pick her up too, then hitting the train
station, I pick her up and bring her back to my place (woowoo! (snicker)). Then
Laura drops us off at the nearest train station and we head straight in to the
Getting there about quarter after 6 (or so), we tear ass
through Penn Station and lo'and'behold there is a pack of freaks standing out
front (back, side, somewhere out there) of Penn. I was happy to see Ron ][
there, who I haven't seen since Boston (which I was sick as hell for) as well
as Leonara, who I haven't seen since coming home from Boston. He claimed I got
him sick by leaving my now six-month old viruses germinating in his couch as he
was feeling rather sick. Of course, how anything can live in as hostile an
environment as Ron's couch is beyond me (including single-celled creatures who
need not much to live). So Emily and I hook up with Mikhail (sp?), Ron, Ron's
friend who's name I unfortunately forgot because he was too quiet :), Leo who
had her usual over-use of makeup obsession in full activation :), Jill,
Stephan, ummm...I think that's it, besides Emily and myself anyway.
So off we go, bouncing through the streets of New York City.
We bounce around a bit and go into a combination place that has a Dunkin Donuts
at one end where Jill & Emily head for muffin type items, and a Roy Rogers
thing at the other end where I head for dinner type items. I order two bacon
cheese burgers, practically frothing at the mouth just SPEAKING those words (I
haven't eaten all day), and the guy who MUST be related to the undecipherable
Dunkin Donuts clerk from Accident Night (see above) instead gets me two Bacon
Cheeseburger Combination thingees. So not only do I have the two hamburgers I
wanted, I have two large drinks and a shitload of fries. I'm too damned hungry
to complain. So I do my best to pawn them all off onto as many goths as I
could, dump one of the sodas onto the floor splashing niiiice boots (well, at
least it solves the too much soda problem) and inhale the hamburgers. Off we
go...Roseland and Eldritch awaits!
Roseland isn't bad. We get there, wait outside for a bit for
people I don't know, and head in. Ron and I sneak past the guards who are
feeling people up at the door and step in. I haven't been in the Roseland since
a Soundgarden concert a year or so ago. (Yes, Soundgarden...fuck you and your
insults.) First things first, BAR! Off I go after getting Ron's order. WHAT?!
NO GUINESS? NO BASS ALE? They had Budweiser (well, everyone and their mother
have Budweiser) and Heinekin. So I buy Ron his beer as a "thanks for letting me
hack up multi-colored phlegmy things on your couch once" gesture and we proceed
to stand around waiting for something to happen. Good collection of gothy types
around of course. EdVamp comes bouncing up (bastard's got a VIP pass!) not long
after and I end up buying two net.goth shirts (Woo! "No, I'm not a vampire.
This is NOT a costume." as well as, appropriately enough, the Sisters Sell-Out
shirt). Unfortunately he couldn't set up shop at the door or nothing, so I give
him the money and am expecting them to hit my suite box shortly. It's ED. I
TRUST Ed. (nod) Quite.
Anyway, the opening band for sisters is, amazingly enough, a
thrash/hardcore band by the name of Orange 9MM. Now, while I don't mind
hardcore, I didn't come to a Sisters of Mercy concert expecting to HEAR
hardcore. But hell, I'm feeling perky. I shed the jacket and leave it on top of
the "Community net.goth jacket pile" (we were met by a ton of others who I
don't know and never had a chance to find out about, except for Risa who I
remember well because of her beautiful red (I think...damn lighting) dress).
Throughout the night at least half the concert goers have tripped on this pile
no matter how many of us stood around it like statues. Anyway, I go up towards
the stage to go thrashing or pitting or somesuch. I came back rather depressed.
"How was it?" they asked. "I've seen harder-core at Disneyland." I said. Not
the band, mind you, but the people. I tried, though, my goth how I tried.
Anyway, Orange 9mm get off and after a healthy period of
waiting in which I roamed the club, downstairs and all, to see what there was
to see SoM finally come up. I posted the set list already so I won't go into
detail here, but I will mention that Andrew should NOT sing Pink Floyd ever
again. BadBad (tm). Concert over, time to go. SoM did pretty good even if I
couldn't bounce off of people recklessly.
After a bunch of picture snapping in front of Roseland and
my purchase of a real SoM shirt and nearly losing Ron in the crowd, we head off
down the road and bounce up to the nearest subway entrance. I've never been in
a subway before. It's cool. Ron goes looking for rats for his dinner as we
await the next subway train and off we go to Penn Station. Bopping through the
station, Stephan disappears to go find the nearest place that sells beer (I do
believe he drank more than he breathed throughout the night).
They leave me to find my train and I sit down to wait. I
call Laura of course to let her know I'm alive and well. At this point the
memory becomes fuzzy. I either put my phone down, or I hung it on my belt much
too loosely. Either way, I then got up to purchase a ticket from a rather
mean-looking machine and realize...the phone's gone. Someone ripped off my
cellular. (sigh) That's about the time the migraine headache starts coming
Get on the train which arrives at track 15, as opposed to
Emily's insistence it would appear at tracks 1-4 (liar! :>) and head home.
Get to New Brunswick and hop off the train and run down to the cab station ten
feet away. I swear it took me all of two minutes to get down the stairwell.
Every one of the 8 or more cabs were ALREADY GONE. So into the office I go.
Migraine is REALLY kicking in now, kids. I order a cab to go to East Brunswick
to go pick up the Ford which stubbornly couldn't be ready a mere few hours
earlier. The first cabbie kicked me out of the cab because he didn't know how
to get to East Brunswick. WTF? The second is better...but he drove around a bit
trying to find another fare to go with me. Eventually he does...this grimy-ass
drunken booger that is heading to "Motel 6," most likely to blow the last of
his Friday night paycheck on the first hooker he can snatch (pun intended)
Finally, East Brunswick. Head is SCREAMING bloody fucking
murder, pounding like a drum, and I get my now-fixed car and head home. It's
slightly after 2AM when I roll in.
And that was my trip to New York City. The only thing that
made the migraine headache, long waits and stolen phone worth it are just the
thing I went for in the first place...the net.goths.
Originally posted in alt.gothic.