Only in New York
Last night was exceptionally bizarre. It all began with a cocktail party toasting the life of a friend who had tragically passed away this summer. I’ve lived in New York a short time, yet I’ve been here long enough to experience the death of a friend, a hard thing to process. Needless to say, I think Blake would have been pleased to see all of his friends, dressed in their finest, raising a glass to his life…he was just that kind of guy.
After the party, my friend Janey (who came with me for moral support) and I met a friend at Rififi, a bar in the East Village. As we ordered beers, I turned around to get a good view of the bar. My blue eyes were instantly startled by another pair of blue eyes, the unexpected kind. This guy was completlely Gothed out with his long black hair and 3-inch black nails, blue cat-like eyes and pointy fangs. He was wearing high platform heels and a black latex suit that covered him from head-to-toe. It was quite a number.
I am all for individual expression, and would have left my judgement at the door if I hadn’t felt so unconfortable with the situation. This guy looked like he came right off the set of a Marilyn Manson video or some scary movie that I would never pay money to see. Saying that he startled me would be an understatement. I wasn’t expecting attention from a guy like that—ever! While Janey ordered, I warned her, “Don’t turn around, you’ll be scared.” But, it was too late. The Goth guy to my surprise was actually extremely interested in, gulp, us. Personally, I would think he’d want to chat it up a Goth girl, since he was in to that, but no.
To my surprise, the conversation was not all that terrible. We learned that this guy was a woodworker, owned property in Connecticut and liked to dress up in Goth from time-to-time (apparently there was a Goth meet-up at the bar earlier that night.) He was friendly and was obviously comfortable in his own skin. He spoke with confidence and acted as if he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I found the whole experience completely fascinating and disturbing at the same time. Maybe it was his confidence, but something inside was telling me he was getting off on seeing how uncomfortable his crazy eyes were making us feel and that was not okay. Luckily, it was a brief encounter, a socio-anthropolgist’s dream (okay, maybe not), but it made for yet another satisfying “only in New York” moment.
