Fairies in the Mist or Tramp Stamp Please.

Living in New York, going to school full time, and working 2 jobs was one of the best times in my life. I remember it as if it was only yesterday.

Since I actually lived outside of Manhattan (in Queens – no jokes a-holes, not that haven’t already heard them), I stayed in the city often after class. Anyway, so I used to go to the bar that I loved the most, Splash. I knew all the bartenders there due to doing my homework there as soon as the bar opened (which was 4 pm back then). I was always toting my backpack in the bar, bellying up, and whipping out my notebook, as my favorite bartender, Victor, would whip off his pants and trot around in his boxer briefs.

So that was my life then…but there was one night in particular that brings a tear to my eye.

I had gone out with my friend from Alabama, Elena, and we hit the town with a vengeance. I was sensibly dressed in a tight white v-neck, black Versace jeans, and shiny black Oxfords. I was ready to party.

Elena ended up pooping out around 1:30 (something about school tomorrow…whatever). I poured her into a cab and went back into the bar and lasted until 3:30 (as best as I can recall).

Stumbling out of the bar, I noticed the strangest thing, that there was a fine mist hanging in the air. It couldn’t be classified as fog; it was if a micro rain had been suspended in the air. Mind you, it was an unseasonably warm April. It was 55 degrees at 3:30 in the morning, and considering it was the North East…It was sweltering.

The mist did not allow me to see more than 30 feet ahead, and I was pretty lit, in search of the subway entrance to get myself home.

I started walking with a mission, to get on the 1/9 north to Grand Central. The problem was that the mist was obscuring the street signs, so I became lost, although the street lamps had this wonderful haze around them that made everything all right (You know what I’m talking about – that happy drunk place you get where nothing matters).

So there I was, walking along, enjoying the night, and still not finding my subway entrance. I stopped and gazed at a street sign, hoping that it would direct me to where I needed to go. About this time, my shirt was plastered to my chest due to all of the moisture. It was a wet t-shirt contest, party of one.

I looked up to the sign again, as someone rounded the corner… Hottie alert! He looked at me, looking at the sign and said, “Oh little tourist…are you lost? (Sarcastic bastard-I loved it)”

Immediately, I retorted, “Hey, I’m not a tourist…I live here…(mumbling now) I just can’t find the 1/9 entrance.”

He laughed and told me that he was going uptown too and would get me there. Whew, my problems were solved, but not before I noticed him checking me out top to bottom (hehehe).

We walked along gaily, in the magical, misty, pre-dawn to a subway entrance I hoped was far away, so I could bust a move on the guy who was my guide to home. Before I could say, “Hey, wanna make out?” he turned to me and said, “Man you’re really hot.”
I had to respond with, “Thanks, you’re white hot (OKAY- before you get all Paris Hilton crazy on me…I used to say white hot all of the time. It was the perfect way to describe someone who was a stunner…so hot that it was white…), and before I knew it, we were holding hands.

Walking along we finally find the subway entrance and descend to the platforms, smiling at each other often. As we were waiting for the train, we were alone on the platform and before you could say, “Hey do you wanna make out in the subway?” we were going at it like Mikey D and Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. Seriously, it was absolutely crazed. Pushing each other against the dirty walls of the underground as we devoured each other (whew..need to take a quick break in writing and catch my breath…) Okay, as were are going at it like to two knights dueling in the joust of love, I started to hear applause and cat-calls. I looked over and noticed a crowd of guys finding their way downtown, on the other side of the platform. My buddy and I broke off grinning and bowing, just as our train arrived.

We hopped on the empty car and went at it again. I’m surprised my shirt wasn’t ripped…Anyway, the Grand Central exit came, and I jumped through the doors as they closed, only to realize that I had not given the guy my number…He stood there standing, thunderstruck as the train slowly pulled away…his hands on the windows of the door. I mouthed, “Sorry” and hopped on my train home to Queens.

Next morning…
I woke up after two hours of sleep (no problem, the energy of the city fed me), and I jumped into the shower. It was going to be a scorcher (about 69-70 degrees, so I pulled out a cute, tight t-shirt to show off the boys, but then I looked in the mirror…

ONLY TO SEE THE MOST GI-NORMOUS (giant + enormous) HICKIE ON MY NECK, SHOULDER-BLADES AND SHOULDERS. DAMMIT!!!!!!

I yanked out a light wool turtleneck with a long neck and put it on without folding it down (Hopefully I could pull off “artsy” with bleary, red eyes).

I got to school and met up with Elena before class…and of course, she noticed the sweat dripping off of my forehead.
“Hey, Deutschmarc, why are you wearing a turtleneck on such a lovely day?”
“No reason.”
“Show me your neck.”
“You’re weird. Why?”
“You would usually wear a t-shirt…Show me your neck. Why are you wearing a turtleneck?”
“Fashion before comfort. (One of my favorite taglines).”
She gave me a dirty look, and finally, I relented, showing her the purple bruises developing.

She let out a long burst of laughter, pointing and said, “Nice TRAMP STAMP…whore, tell me all about it.”

I recounted my story to her, tearing up at the point where I did not give Hottie my number, to which she said, “There’s always another guy, DM. Are we going to East of 8th tonight for cosmos?”

“Do you have boobs? Of course we’re going…”

I look back on that night with a wry grin…If it was a movie, it would be called, “Faeries in the Mist.”