Manhattan Transfer

I used to abhore people who didn’t believe in uptown. Good things to offer above 100th Street. Cheap digs, good food. Aggressive sexual frustration and voyeurs. Come to think of it now, though, it is a bit far. But we made the annual trek uptown Saturday night to reminisce with our youth.

The night started off well.

Citibank ATM: I'm sorry. You only have $18 in your account. You may not have it.

Looks like it was going to be a retro evening. I made a stop at the liquor store to make use of my credit card.

Miss Anna: No. No, that bottle won’t fit in my purse.

It was a veritable reunion. The Neurotic Medic, Medea, the Former Boyfriend, and the Sexy Scarred One were all there. Even the LA Grifter had turned up. We were just going to stop by the party.

Medea: Hey. There’s a girl in a bubble.
Miss Anna: How’d she get in there?
Neurotic Medic: Magic.

The stage show was better than usual, but we were getting older and set in our ways. The partygoers were getting younger. The Blue Bunny had grown a beard.

Miss Anna: So that girl’s just topless and getting whipped on stage, huh?
LA Grifter: Yup.
Whip:...(smack)
MA: I think they're going to draw blood.
W:... (whap)
MA: No really. She's bleeding.

The whiskey helped.

Medea: Now there are two girls in the bubble.
Miss Anna: That's hot.
Sexy Scarred One: No really. How do they breathe? I think the girls are writing us SOS messages to get out.
LA Grifter: No. They’re just being sexy.

Coeds wandered in search of their tops. The Former Boyfriend/Current Poll Dancer made me put dollar bills in his pants. Security personnel neglected their duties. People kissed strangers while their significant others watched and did the same. There was dancing.

The Sexy Scarred One: I think those girls making out on the platform are going to get the party shut down. Security says there are too many topless people.
Miss Anna: That’s not a girl.

When the lights came on we flooded the street. Some were regretting the night's debauchery. Others ran off together. We went to the bar.

One by one we realized it was our turn to leave. The Neurotic Medic escorted me outside. If he wasn’t supposed to be going home to Medea I might have taken him with me.

Someone gave me ten dollars and I rode off into the night.