I can't believe I didn't loot the candy store


Happy Fifth Birthday, Blackout!

Twas five years ago today that I looked out the window at my job in Times Square, saw that all of the flashing lights had gone dead along with our own, and braced myself for aliens to start punching Will Smith in the street. And then the feeble sound of somebody caught in the elevator a floor and a half down.

I was supposed to play a gig at Sleazy's bar that night (a solo set at that BBQ joint he worked in/managed for a hot minute), so I had my acoustic with me. I lugged that dumb bastard home to Greenpoint across the 59th street bridge. It took three hours.

Eric was kind enough to walk over and check on me, and let me know that Bina was safe and sound in the city. And we drank a beer or two, but not more than that because I had no cash and (obvs) no ATM. Bars were open, candlelit and rowdy. One place had a back-up generator run by a guy on a bicycle. I drank two 40's of Bud and played my acoustic in my apartment until I passed out.

However, I look at pictures from that Gothamist article there and I realize I missed out on the Bacchanaliaist night evah, and that sort of regret does not sit well with me. Then again, hangover with no A/C or fans would probably not have rested well with me, either. Still, you hear about the big dumb parties with the lights out that people had all over the place (and the big weird celebration that erupted anyway at Sleazy's bar "You should have come anyway!!") and I feel like I wasted a perfectly good opportunity to do something monumentally stupid.

Ah well. I don't really like monumentally stupid things anymore. Too many dumb fights. Just sayin'.