I’ve got the kind of hangover that makes you religious.
For some reason someone wanted me to DJ at a party again last night. Why people keep asking me to do this is beyond me, but hey, I’m never one to deny anyone their weekly dose of Dave. Played some real classics, among them:
Pat Benetar, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”
Billy Ocean, “Get Out of My Dreams and Into My Car”
Stacy Q, “Two of Hearts”
Gloria Estefan, “1, 2, 3”
Hehehe, it all went over very well. I of course didn’t mix a single thing, was just pressing play repeatedly as per usual. The whole affair has left me with a certain sense of invincibility that only the high of having panties thrown at you can.
Anyway, I also wanted to relate a great story that happened to me yesterday.
As I was on the way to meet up with some friends for a few drinks before heading out, I found myself on the R train, going from Rector Street to Canal. The car that pulled up in front of me was fairly empty and I grabbed a seat and took a quick look around.
As any man can tell you, the first thing you do upon getting into a subway car is you instantly find the most attractive woman present. This isn’t done for any sort of leering purpose, in general, it’s really more an instinct than anything else. Most times your mental catalog is quick in its referencing. A spunky looking hipster who’s showing just enough hip bone to tickle your penis’s fancy is the obvious choice over a beleaguered ancient Chinese lady carrying eight bags of odd smelling groceries. The “Subway” effect can also backfire. Say, for example, that it’s 4am and it’s either that old lady or a crazy crackhead broad with one shoe… your mind will inevitably fill with the worst kind of images.
I’m going to get into this in a little more detail at a later date. For now, if you’re a woman, just be happy that you can force the issue of sex to the sidelines of your head for at least a few minutes. If you’re a man, then you know how annoying then you know what I’m talking about.
Back to the subway car. I take my look around and notice that there are only two women on the car… and they’re both reaaallly hot. Then I look around some more, there were about five guys and they were all pretty damn attractive. Everyone on the car was really good looking.
This never, EVER happens. If you live in New York or have ever rode on the subway, you will undoubtedly agree with me. There is always at least one hideously ugly motherfucker just chilling out in a corner. People talk a lot about the great melting pot that is New York, but they never mention that it’s also a stew of aesthetic variety. Sure we’ve got models, square jawed power brokers and celebrities… but we’ve also got pasty faced, mouth breathing, waddling tubs of lard like the rest of the country. We’ve actually got more of them here per square foot than anywhere else in the country. They’re everywhere.
I was in complete awe of the untarnished physical beauty around me. I don’t think anyone else noticed, and we rode on into the night in silence. As we pulled in to the City Hall stop, I just assumed that someone would get on and completely ruin my little zen garden of hotness. But nay! The only person to get on our car was this gigantic studly black dude in a suit.
I looked around some more and noticed that not only was everyone gorgeous, but we were also a multi-culti environment. There were like three white guys, one Asian guy, one of the girls was Latina, the other was a blonde, and now our hirstute African American friend.
I was in a living Benetton advert.
I will cherish that moment as the best cast of random subway characters of all time. Much love.