Oh, what a weekend. It’s Sunday night now. I’m exhausted, still hungover, my voice is nearly shot, and I would go so far as to say last night was one of the best nights of my adult life. I’ll go into much greater detail in a moment, but first I’ll recap Saturday — day three of this East Coast swing.
Woke up. Felt slightly chirpy, until I realized that I am [redacted], tormented ’90s child and blogging superstar. I made it to the fair at the same time as my boss. Ian and Braus arrived not too long after.
La Justicia – Salsa Con Nostalgia
John Terlazzo – Honour Among Thieves
Russian Circles – Station
Hammerhead – Into The Vortex (which included an old show poster from CBGBs!)
And that’s it, really. Ted Leo was pretty good. To be honest, the selection at this year’s fair wasn’t that good. I don’t know if it was just that few dealers had stuff I was looking for, or if there weren’t enough dealers, or the vinyl turnover rate wasn’t great, but the opportunities to buy records I really wanted were few and far between. Ian and Jon left for a few hours to rest up for Saturday night. I stopped circling the room shopping and returned to our table to sell some records. At one point I was approached by a young guy asking if I was Evan. It turned out he was a friend of Nicci’s sister, named Frank. Nice guy! A few minutes later, another young guy asked the same question. It turned out that he was a Swan Fungus reader! I finally me “Michael,” who has been reading the website for a while. He even made a $40 donation two years ago! We chatted for a few minutes and I — being the altruistic gentleman that I am — invited him out to drink with me and my friends after the fair. Before we left I bumped into someone I first met five or six years ago and haven’t seen since. It’s nice to be remembered by someone based on a good first (and only) impression. My point is, I’m not a total asshole all the time to everyone.
We were supposed to go to Arturo’s for some sweet, sweet coal oven pizza but the wait was too long. So we (the lady, myself, Ian, his lady, her friend and Jon) waited outside for Evan and Cheryl. We went to Ben’s in SoHo (you know, from Men In Black 2?) for some greasy slices and then hung out at Jon’s house with our pizza and some beers (Magic Hat #9, I missed you) until it was time to head uptown…
On Thursday my sister put in a call to my favorite New York watering hole, The Ginger Man, asking about reserving an area of the bar for a private party. They informed us that we needed to provide at least 20 people and guarantee a $400 tab. We thought for certain we had 15-20 people who would show up, but were concerned about not reaching our alcohol threshold. It only worked out to about $20 per person, but still…sometimes people are pussies. They say they’re going to drink a lot and then they drink one Southern Comfort and Diet Coke and call it a night. We made the reservation but began freaking out when the contract arrived and it stipulated that the guarantee was for $500 — and we needed to guarantee that half the party would arrive by 9:30pm. Panic mode.
As it turned out, none of that mattered. 50 people showed up, and we’d reached our $500 minimum within an hour or two. People I hadn’t seen in years stopped in to celebrate, drink and hang out. Some of my old college roommates were there. High school friends were there. Overnight camp friends were there. Childhood friends were there. Michael from Brooklyn, Swan Fungus Super Fan #2 was there. I drank…a lot. I don’t remember the order in which I consumed these, but I drank Six Point Pumpkin Ale, Left Hand Milk Stout, Stoudts Fat Dog Stout (cask!), whatever was in the gravity cask, Southern Tier Imperial Oatmeal Stout, Dogfish Head Bitches Brew, a shot of Makers Mark, Goose Island Bourbon Stout.
The shot of Makers, courtesy of Michael, was what eventually did me in. I had another beer or two after that, but within 10 minutes of shooting that bourbon I had tipped the scales. I was so drunk that I wound up kicking in $200 to our final bill without noticing that an 18% gratuity was already calculated into the cost, and then I left an 18% tip plus I handed our waitress $60 cash for her patience and awesomeness throughout the night. My guess is she thought I was some kind of web entrepreneur or a trust fund kid or something. Silly waitress, I was just drunk!
Gail Simmons did not attend the party. There was no Gail Simmons ass-eating contest. I was not the big winner.
But, holy shit, so many fucking people came and partied last night. It was insane. I actually shouted myself hoarse there were so many people with whom to converse. I walked back to Ian’s apartment with him at some point, and as soon as I hit his couch I was dead asleep. Apparently he threw up shortly after we got home. That makes two years in a row I got Ian to puke after a drinking session at Ginger Man. Next year, three-peat!? God willing, we’ll make it happen.
Awoke at 8:30am with the urge to piss overwhelming me. Hungover as hell, barely able to stand long enough to relieve myself. Ian and I walked to Ess-A-Bagel. Bagel and butter. Fan-fucking-tastic. Still hungover as hell. I walked to the Metropolian Pavilion for day 3 of the fair. Jon was already there. I don’t know how the hell he got up early enough to be there for the opening. Maybe he didn’t drink that much. Whatever, I actually found some cool records today:
Various Artists – Love Is Love (Mississippi Records compilation)
Perigeo – Genealogia (Italian prog!)
Wicked Witch – Chaos (didn’t I just write about that a few days ago?)
Bob Desper – New Sounds (not an original — I wish)
Various Artists – London Is A Place For Me
I also found for Mark a copy of the Bobby Brown album, The Enlightening Beam Of Axonda, which he’s been lusting after for about a month now. If you guys don’t know that record, I’ll post in the near future. Fantastic west coast singer-songwriter stuff. He released a cool live record too.
Hungover as hell. I spent most of the day sitting at our table because I didn’t really feel good enough to spend hours on my feet. Vera and her boyfriend stopped by to say hello and chat with Ian and I for a few minutes. The conversation revolved mostly around how it’s been ten years since the three of us first met in study hall. That’s a frightening thought.
After our table was disassembled, our product packed up and ready to ship back to California, we left the Pavilion for the last time (this year) and headed for a dinner date with Ian and Beth. The only problem was that during last night’s drunken escapades I lost my parking garage ticket. There was some hassle getting my car back, but everything worked out eventually. We went to Paul’s for burgers. When I saw the facade I realized I’d eaten there once many, many years ago. I can’t remember when it was, why I ate there, or who I was with. I want to say it was with Lindsey and Sam, but I don’t know for certain. Oh well. I ordered an Eastsider (1/2 lb. patty with bacon and cheese topped with ham, mushrooms, tomatoes and onions). With a side of sweet potato fries. Food coma achieved.
Plans are being made for the remainder of my stay on the East Coast. The calendar is filling up quickly. Don’t miss your chance to witness the magic…the mystery…the memory will live forever…the seven-time TONY award winner…the once-in-a-lifetime experience…the most exciting family musical…In a word: Cats. At the Winter Garden Theater. Whoops, sorry, I was remembering an old commercial from my childhood. But seriously, who the hell knows when I’ll be back East again. Probably not in ’11, I’m going to India instead. See me now or see me never.
The drive home was mostly silent. I am completely drained of energy. I feel like I could sleep for days. This is not how a vacation is supposed to feel. Except for the hangover. That’s how a vacation is supposed to feel.
