NYC Redux – The Drive

So, this past weekend I took a slightly impromptu trip to NYC (Brooklyn specifically) to visit my good friend Jessica. We met during a weekend I spent in D.C. for the Chips Quinn Scholars Program and then we also interned together at The News Journal during the summer of 2006, the best summer of my life. And she was part of the reason it was so great.

Apparently, not many people were aware of my being gone. I didn’t even tell my parents until a couple days before I left. I planned to go a couple weeks ago, I just had this sudden urge to be out of Columbus. I’ve been living alone in this city for well over a year and it’s become suffocating. And slightly disappointing seeing as NYC is where I really want to be living and working.  I just really needed a break from Ohio. And though it cost more then I’d planned, it was well worth it.

As with any adventure I encounter there was lots of drama, particularly on the trip from Ohio to Brooklyn. 

I seem to be  a glutton for punishment as I decided I was going to drive the eight hours to Brooklyn. My thinking was that since I’d driven to Florida before and several times to NYC and Wilmington, D.E. to visit friends I was used to it. This should be a breeze, I thought. Well, I thought wrong. 

I didn’t think about the fact that I hadn’t driven such a long distance since 2007, so my road trip driving tolerance isn”t were it used to be. Let’s just say though it was less then $100 to drive there and back (a plane ticket is about twice that) I may opt for a plane ride next time.

So, here’s the tale of my heralding 12-hour trek to Brooklyn.

The plan was to leave in the morning before 10 a.m. so I’d get there in ample time for a possible Thursday night out on the town. However, instead of my alarm, I woke up to a call from Jessica at 11 a.m. after oversleeping. Why I thought I could break my cycle of 12 p.m. wakeup calls, I have no idea. I didn’t end up hitting the road til after 1 p.m. Which should have put me in Brooklyn at about 9 p.m. Things, however, didn’t quite work out that way.

This may be a TMI moment but for some odd reason my bladder wouldn’t last longer then 2 hours, which may have been due to the case of Red Bull I downed while on the road. The first eight hours were fairly smooth, despite my small bladder, it wasn’t until I hit New York that things went south, fast.

Somehow when I was crossing over into Manhattan at around 10 p.m. I missed a turn and spent a good 45 minutes circling the block trying to find the road I was supposed to be on. This became increasingly difficult as it was a Thursday night in Manhattan. The streets were pretty packed and traffic was a bitch and a half. I saw a pizza place with a sign that said “the best pizza in SoHo,” so that’s where I assumed I was.

Quick note: When my phone was stolen earlier this year (check out this blog post for that explanation) I decided to temporarily replace it with a Revol phone until my finances were in order, and then I’d sign a contract and get a phone through Verizon. That was six months ago. And for those familiar with Revol you’re aware the coverage area is a joke. My phone pretty much only gets service in major cities in the tri-state area, which doesn’t include New York. So, pretty much after I hit the Ohio state line I had no cell service.

So, yeah, I’m driving around SoHo, lost, with no cell phone service. Slightly in panic mode, I stop at a BP gas station and try to use a pay phone, but for some odd reason the call to Jessica won’t go through. I jump back in my car circle the block a few more times and see a 24-hour parking garage that I park in. My thinking was, ‘I’ll just park the car here and hail a cab, who will know where they’re going.’ I grab a handful of change and a stuff it in my pocket just in case I find a pay phone that works.

So, apparently the whole cabs-don’t-stop-for-black-men-in-NYC stereotype is true because I couldn’t stop a cab to save my life. And of course the various groups of drunken, dolled up blondies across the street were getting cabs with no problems at all. The cabs probably weren’t stopping seeing as I was wearing black sweat pants and a black t-shirt and the keys/change combo in my pocket was making me sound like a homeless man jiggling a cup for donations every time I took a step. I looked like I’d just stepped out of a YMCA shelter. So, I ditched the change in a nearby trashcan and made my way up and down the street trying to hail a cab for about an hour. It’s after 11 p.m. by this time mind you.

A cab finally stops near me to drop a couple off and I pounce. The driver, after noticeably rolling his eyes, refuses to drive me to Brooklyn. It’s too far away, he tells me. This is when I begin to cry. He does try to give me directions in his broken accent, but I understand nothing and walk dejectedly back to my car, where I have to pay $12 to retrieve it!

I ask the man who’s working the garage if there is a phone I could use. He of course wouldn’t let me use the company one, only a janky payphone that hung on the wall outside the cashier office. I checked my pockets change. “Goddamit!” I actually yelled this out loud. This drew several suspicious glances from the garage workers around me. I, of course, had thrown away the change that was embarrassingly jiggling in my pocket, and I now, of course, needed change for the payphone.

I went across the street to Walgreens to get change. This actually worked out well because I needed to purchase facial cleanser. (I had forgotten mine and it’s a crucial part of my morning routine.) While in Walgreens I learn that I am not in SoHo at all, but in, what an employee referred to as, “downtown, downtown.” I go back to the pay phone at the garage and, again, the call won’t go through. I’m assuming at this point that cell phones can’t be reached from pay phones. (Is this some sort of common knowledge I’m unaware of?!?)

In a last ditch effort I ask the garage worker I originally talked to for directions and he tells me I need to find the Manhattan Bridge, and tells me how to get there. I hop in my car and follow his directions to this bridge. After crossing it I see a street I recognize from my Google Maps directions. I begin crying again, this time from joy. I finally find Jessica’s apartment. It is now 1 a.m. What time did I leave my apartment in Ohio again? Yeah, that’s right, 1 p.m. It took me nearly 12 hours to make an 8-hour trip to NYC!

(Part 2, “NYC Redux - Food and Friends,” coming soon.)

Until next time,

~D.A. Steward

The weekend that nearly killed me…

 

The date of the below occurrences is over a month ago, but it has taken me that long to get over them and be able to write about them coherently. Yes, it was that bad.

Lamar’s birthday was Aug. 3, which was a Monday, so to celebrate he had myself and my cousin, Cristyn, come stay with him for the weekend prior. We arrived at Lamar and Dusti’s (Lamar’s ex/roommate/best friend) on Thursday for a cookout and cocktails.

Now, let me know stop here to tell you that for the past month Lamar had been raving about his 25th birthday and how he was going to do drag and make a big production out of it. He made Cristyn and I promise that we’d both spend the weekend with him. Little did I know that doing so would be detrimental to my health.

So, like I said, we got there Thursday for a cookout and some light—that later turned into heavy—drinking. I have to admit, Thursday night was fun. It was just the four of us, and we stayed up late pigging out on grilled hotdogs, chicken and hamburgers and sipping on cheap vodka mixed with Hawaiian Punch. I was slap happy drunk. Dante was mostly on the DL that night.

Friday was much of the same, drinking and friends. We did some pre-partying with Brian (a friend of Lamar’s that I’ve gotten to know) and his “straight” friend Mike. Brian is a spirited, “shuga mamma,” especially when drunk, who brings life to any party. A self-proclaimed fashionista, he typically has men stopping in their tracks just from his fierce runway-inspired assembles.

Mike was a friend whom we’d never met. (But he bears mentioning because he becomes an important part of the story later.) Like Brian, he’s rather slim, but sexually androgynous, with a pretty smile. Story was that Mike was joining Brian for his “last hurrah” that weekend before he headed off to California for grad school Monday.

After a few shots and a cocktail (or two) we piled into the car and headed out to the Short North (Columbus’ gay, I mean, arts district, lol).

First stop: Liquid (a mostly lesbo bar that has amazing music). Lamar wanted to dance and knew that I wasn’t into the “twink fest” that usually takes place over at gay clubs Level and Union. I started the group off with a round of drinks and a round of shots (I had just gotten paid) after which we hit the dance floor.

Being slightly sloshed from the pre-partying, the dancing wasn’t exactly “So, You Think You Can Dance” caliber. I do remember at one point Brian started a Soul Train line in the middle of dance floor. After a smoking trip to the patio, we soon tired of Liquid and made our exit. Due to my lowered inhibitions, Lamar convinced me to make a stop at Level before we took our drunk-man’s hunger to Steak ‘n’ Shake.

Friday night was mostly uneventful where drama is concerned, but I wanted to convey the drinking pattern that was forming. Saturday and Sunday are where things get interesting.

So, I wake up Saturday afternoon with a slight hangover. Nothing a tall glass of water and some Ibuprofen doesn’t cure. However, Lamar decides that 2 p.m. is the time to start taking shots of tequila. After, nearly puking the Steak ‘n’ Shake from the night before, Cristyn and I get dressed and head out for a pre-planned trip to Huntington Park to watch the Clippers baseball game with my father and the rest of our family. We down a few beers at the game, which is rained out early, and head back to Lamar’s.

Upon arrival, Lamar is buried under our friend Robert’s massive collection of makeup and beauty utensils. Robert is another friend met though Lamar. Skinny but feisty, Robert is an adorable makeup artist currently working his way up the corporate ladder at Express, who’s a blast to hang out with.

Dusti is simultaneously making drinks and getting ready to go out. He hands us a couple shot when we come through the door. I soon entered tipsy-ville, and Dante began to emerge. Dante’s first order of business: chasing Dusti (who’s wearing only briefs and a t-shirt) around with his camera.

Brian and Mike soon joined the group and the drinking intensified. Lamar also decided to model his varying states of transformation into Sheryl Peaches Delaney. (Refer to attached photos.) A few hours later, after Ms. Delaney was finally ready, we headed out the door to Union. We get there and of course Lamar is a big hit. I began snapping photos immediately.

(This is when the details become a bit hazy.)

I do remember heading outside and setting up shop at a table near the bar, upon which there was a flyer left by someone with the title “The Steps to Salvation.” After a hilarious round of jokes about gays and religion, Cristyn she was going to “save” everyone at the bar and began reading the sermon to surrounding bar patrons. We soon decide to leave for Level.

Level is just a couple blocks down the street and I somehow decide that it’s a good idea to channel Naomi Campbell and began sashaying down the street. It goes without saying that Dante had completely taken over.

(Disclaimer: It was at this point that I woke up on Lamar and Dust’s coach. The rest of Saturday was dictated to me by several sources as I do not remember any of the following taking place.)

Apparently upon entering Level I became a social butterfly. Camille, a bubbly and beautiful friend of Brian’s, soon joined us and we proceeded to drink with her and a few friends she’d brought with her. I was told one of her friends, a cute youngin’ named Kris, became a target of Dante’s. There were many pictures taken of us together with Camille that I have no recollection of.

But, Kris apparently wasn’t what I was looking for because I’m told that I decided to make out with Mike. Yes, the “straight” dude that came with Brian. It appears that Mike was “making his rounds” because I laterdiscovered that he also made out with Cristyn. There are pictures of Mike and I together that I also have no recollection of.

I was also told that we headed back to Union after Level, (another detail I have no recollection of) where we had a few more drinks and posed for a few more pics before heading home. I passed out in the back seat of Dusti’s car and upon arriving at the house was shown to the coach, where I decided to completely disrobe. At which point the rest of the clan took a trip to Arby’s for sustenance. This was approximately 4 a.m.

My eyes shot open six hours later to a pounding a headache. I sat up and let out a loud moan of agonizing pain. A few minutes later Lamar surfaced, surprised that I had woken up before him (to which I was equally surprised). He made some clever quip about my antics the preceding night, and when I gave him a blank stare of ignorance he eagerly plopped on the couch beside me to rehash every embarrassing detail.

After downing about four pain pills I crashed for another few hours before waking to the realization that I had a story due that evening, and there were plans to go out, again. Over the next few hours, still in severe hangover mode, I quickly pumped out a narrative that, after reading it the next day, just so happens to be one of the best stories I’ve written this year. It seems that hangovers are my muse. How lovely. (Check out the story here.)

While I was on the phone and writing at the same time Lamar began to set the mood around me for another early pre-party. And handed me a double shot of tequila. It was 4:43 p.m. I defiantly refused, but cave after he threatens suicide. Don’t be too quick to judge it was the only liquor I ended up having that night.

Sundays nights at Union are $1-draft night, which was the plan for the evening seeing as by that point we’d all blown through much of our bank accounts. Because of my deadline I decided to meet the others there much later, and I also hoped it would keep me from drinking as much. The $1 drafts were enticing but I only had two. I was very proud of myself. However, I can’t say the same for the others.

By the time I got there Cristyn and Lamar were pretty toasted and Cristyn’s mother, Caroline, had joined them after a drunk dial from Cristyn inviting her out. Dusti had to work in the morning, so once I arrived he decided to leave and pass the designated driver duties over to me.

Here’s a short list of the events that followed:

• Lamar proceeded to flirt (very loudly) with every man in the room.
• Cristyn and Lamar stood on a raised platform on the balcony and, in front of everyone, began to dance provocatively with each another.
• At one point I muttered under my breath, “Drunk people are so annoying,” to which they both gave me an accusing death glare and replied loudly, “We know!”
• An interesting conversation started with a bartender (who had started cleaning up around, trying to single for us to leave) about weather the bar hires or not based on a person’s weight.
• Cristyn and Lamar unsuccessfully tried to carry each other back to the car, at which point I intervened and unsuccessfully tried to carry them both on my own.

Another trip to Steak ‘n’ Shake lead us back to the house and the end of the weekend that nearly killed me, for various reasons.

I could’ve died from alcohol poisoning, Brian killing me for making out with his date, the heart attack that could’ve ensued because of all the greasy fast food we were consuming, or Cristyn and Lamar’s shenanigans nearly making me crazy enough to drive the car off a ledge.

The next day I vowed never to drink again. Well, we all know that didn’t exactly stick.

Until next time,

~D.A. Steward

Rock Steady

Sometimes it’s the simple things that mean so much.

Not much has happened with my love life since my last post, but my life life seams to constantly be on the move, so I thought I’d pump some juice back into the Dwayne/Dante blog with this update.

The self-help kick I was on had led me to scrutinizing my friendships and caused quite a bit of strife, some necessary, some not so much. I’m happy to say that those friendships have been mended. Though I do regret the way I approached the “Friend Inventory,” I think in the end it was helpful in getting my feelings and concerns out in the open so they could be worked on.

I’m also still on the volunteering kick. I’ve been helping out at the Kaleidoscope Youth Center and the Columbus Aids Task Force for a little over a month now and I’m actually really loving it.

KYC has seen an influx of students since school started and, though many of them have behavior issues, I feel like I’m really helping. Most of the kids are black males, which makes sense considering modern social constructs. Gay black males are more likely to be considered outcasts in their community, thus causing the need of a place to “get away,” so to speak. At least that’s been my experience.

I had a pretty deep conversation with some of the boys about coming out to their parents. One kid actually asked me if he should tell his parents, and seemed very interested and invested in my answer. I definitely felt a strong sense of responsibility in making sure I was imparting some sort of “wisdom.” I simply told him my coming-out story and advised him to do what he thought was right for him. It definitely hits you that you’re a “grown up” when a 16-year-old teenager looks at you with pleading eyes, begging you to tell them what to do. It was definitely intense.

Everyday, however, isn’t like what I’ve described above. We mostly play pool, or some kind of group game, facilitate some discussion or just appear available. On one particularly crowded night, an impromptu vogue-off started with about 20+ kids, it was pretty entertaining to watch.

At CATF I’ve finally finished training and have started administering HIV tests on my own. I’m really loving the atmosphere at this place. The other counselors are super nice and accessible. Sometimes the clients can be a bit interesting. I had my first positive the other day and it was total drama. The person who came in lied and told me they didn’t know they were positive when they’d actually known for five years. I thought I was changing this person’s life by telling them they had HIV. That definitely wasn’t the case. I’m definitely not looking forward to the moment when I do have to impart that information on an unsuspecting individual.

It’s actually really cool that this place even exists though. They offer free HIV tests every Tuesday (3:30 pm. to 7:30 p.m.) and Wednesday (11 a.m. to 2 p.m.), and sometimes they also offer free STD testing for chlamydia, syphilis and gonorrhea. KNOW YOUR STATUS! Yes, I said it, lol.

I’ve learned so much from being there. I’m starting to feel like a walking public service announcement. I met my friend Lamar’s new boyfriend the other day and I just started spouting off all this safe sex and HIV information like I was some med school professor. I have to say, I was pretty pleased with myself, lol.

As many of you already know, I’ve moved, again. The landlords at my previous complex were, for lack of a better word, douche-bags. My apartment flooded twice, my water heater exploded, the stove was falling apart, and they lost one of my rent checks. It was time to go. I love the apartment I’m in now. It’s a little farther north then I’d like, but it’s a two bedroom and much more spacious. I’ve turned the second room into an office, which I’m loving. I feel like I’m all growed up now, lol. The complex also has a fitness center (the one at the old place had been shut down due to vandalism), tennis courts, and two swimming pools. I’m movin’ on up! lol

On the work front everything is going well. I’m working like crazy, but it’s not too bad. I’m still working at Waldenbooks part time (this recession is a bitch!) and I still have my job with Metromix.com (for now). I have this constant fear that they’re going to give me the axe at any moment. Journalists are loosing their jobs by the handfuls all over the country, why wouldn’t I be next? So, with that being said, to help me keep my job, help us get are page view numbers up by perusing my articles on the regular at Columbus.Metroimx.com! lol

On the love life front, like I said early there’s not much to report. I have noticed, though, that my love life is developing a pattern. I start dating, find a guy I like, then after two weeks he does something disappointing, however, I keep him around because there are many other things about him that I like. I then start dating other people, find two more that I want to keep around, then they too become disappointing, but I also keep them around because they attain a vital characteristics that I find attractive. A couple more may become added to list in the same fashion.

After a few months of juggling, and waiting for one of them to become the man of my dreams I become annoyed and disillusioned with the entire male population and decide to swear off men, or “take a break from dating.” Four months or so goes by and I begin to crave the intimacy and attention I gave up, and the process starts all over again.

I realized this when I was telling a few friends about the guys I was dating and how they weren’t measuring up and how I was ready to take a dating break. To which one replied, “Didn’t you say that right before you met J—– (my ex)?” I had no rebuttal.

I keep finding men who are interested in me and we have chemistry on some level but when the time comes they don’t seem interested in taking that final plunge towards partners-ville.

Half of my friends tell me it’s because I’m looking and most people fall into relationships with someone when they really weren’t looking for it. While others tell me I’m not putting myself out there enough, and I’m too picky. Maybe I’m just not partner material? Or maybe I’m not attractive enough to be someone’s “one and only.” (Comment at will below.)

Life may not be perfect where the love life is concerned, but I’ve hit a nice steady stride in the rest of my life that I’m enjoying. It’s the first time I think I’ve felt genuinely happy with every aspect of my life, despite being single. Well, except for money, I could always use a little more of that, lol.

I know this post is starting to run long, so I’m going to end this one here. Another blog will be posted shortly detailing events from the weekend that nearly killed me. It’s a must-read ladies and gentlemen, lol.

~D.A. Steward