Crashing and Burning

I am banned from entering any nightclub in New York. DAMN YOU DUVET AND YOUR SOFT SHEETS AND YOUR HYPNOTIC JELLYFISH!!!! DAMN YOU!!!!! It's not my fault I was operating on 4 hours of sleep.

My whole trip to New York has felt very NEW YORK. The staff holiday party was at our Eexcutive Director's immaculate apartment. White walls, enormous kitchen, tasteful artwork. The half the servers looked like they walked out of an Abecrombie and Fitch catalog (clean cut with messy hair), the other half looked like they stepped off of an Armani catalog (long, greasy hair with a tan). They were all wearing tight black t-shirts that made the old gay men a-twitter. One of my co-workers is dating a puppeteer who made my night by bring his Madam puppet(as in Wayland Jennings) to regale the party.

It gets even more New York when we hit Duvet. We're a fabulous group of gays, straights, and trans folks. We stake out the biggest bed near the dance floor, and I order the Goose Down drink - gooseberries with vodka and other stuff. We're all talking and I start staring at their jellyfish aquarium and thinking to myself, "these sheets are so soft." Next thing I know, a server is poking me and telling me that we're not allowed to nap in the club. My co-workers are busting up for all the obvious reasons. I angrily demand that whoever slipped me the roofie come forward. It only makes them laugh harder. Apparently, I was napping for about 20 minutes. Many Sleeping Beauty Jokes ensue. I go to the bathroom and realize that I gave myself bedhead at a bar. So classy I am.

P.S. I was staying with a co-worker in Jersey City. It was astounding to take the PATH train to the World Trade Center stop and realize you are in the big hole that used to be the Twin Towers.