I forgot about Friday
We had a meeting with a record label late in the afternoon, we met them at a recording studio in Hells Kitchen. We were ten minutes early even though I was sure we would be late and a storm was tickling the sky. The meeting went well, it was with a legendary house DJ, one who I have followed since his first, genre defining single. He had his managers with him, and one of the acts on his labels roster. There was weed everywhere and the room was cramped and hot. When we got up to leave he mentioned he was playing at a club that night and asked if I wanted to be on this list. I wrote my name down plus one. He said I’ll see you tonight and shook my hand. When we left the building it was drizzling in the street.
I had another date that night, to see a rock band at a bar in my neighborhood. They are a newly signed group with buzz build from blogs and on a cool record label from New York City. They are called Cold War Kids and the hype was right, they were amazing. I’d had a few drinks at home before my friend came to pick me up then I had another cocktail at the bar while I watched the Kids do their thing. I made conversation with people and nursed my drink responsibly. At about midnight I started saying my goodbyes. When I walked to the train the sky was pouring.
I got to the club at about 1.30. It used to be called Centrofly and was world renown as one of the planets hot spots. But it closed two years ago to much fanfare and an epic party in which Fat Boy Slim finished his set and was carried from the DJ booth in a coffin. Everyone was there. All the papers covered it. Now it is called Duvet and the drinks are $12. There are huge beds everywhere and people would sit and sip and lean into each other. The dance floor was covered in whirling lights, but people mostly just stood, I think the beds confused them.
The DJ’s manager tapped my shoulder and led me to the VIP DJ booth to hang out with them. There were couches and a fully stocked bar and a bouncer at the entrance in charge of a small velvet rope. I was nervous so drank quickly and kept refilling my drink as the night wore on. Hennessey neat. I don’t know what got into me. Eventually it was 4am and eventually I couldn’t see straight. But I was trying to keep on my game face because it was not fun but work and I cant look unprofessional in front of the stars and paparazzi. I mumbled something about how fun everything was and how great it sounded and that I hoped to hear from them soon. It was still raining hard when I huddled outside to light my cigarette before walking to the subway.
The car was empty and I stretched my feet out. About three stops in I rested my head on the window and let the raindrops pitter-patter lull me to sleep. That was a big mistake. When I lifted my head back up I was in Coney Island. Miles away from home. It was still raining and the station was outdoors. The air was cold and wet. I cursed myself. Kicked the wall. Held back tears of frustration. Still drunk, I smoked a cigarette and waited for the train back home. I fell asleep on that one too, but woke up at my stop and clamored through the closing doors. I honestly would have cried if I had missed my stop twice. On the walk home the rain had let up a little but a thick damp cloud hung in the street. Even so I trudged slowly, letting it soak me more. I don’t remember much after that.