Almost Queen

I left work at 6:00 because it was just extremely busy. Sometimes I'll explain what I exactly it is I do, but for now let's just say I fight crime. I get to Hoboken, where I'm meeting people after work, which works out well because during my move I left a suitcase at my friend Christian's apartment (where I stayed for a few nights). So I get to Christian's, I don't know what time, sopping wet because it's raining a kind of mutated Manhattan ran that only comes down in drops the size of bowling balls. He is gearing up for his own party, so before I lug my sweater-filled suitcase over to Mike, Michael, and Walt's place I have a few beers and hang out for a while. We play some beer pong (beirut, if you're a snob) and just chilled until his sister and some friends show up.

A few beers later, Christian's sister and I decide to play beer pong. Thanks to the inherent talents bestowed upon me by so many years of binge drinking and memorizing the greek alphabet, I'm doing a good job of shutting her out. This, naturally, is frustrating, so up goes the skirt. Now: Here I think it's important to mention that anything that is newly visible and interesting is lined up perfectly with the cups I'm aiming for with the ping pong balls that I'm throwing. While I appreciate, nay, encourage this kind of atempt at distraction, I have to note that it was unhelpful in this particular scenario. I sunk the last two shots, won, and (now adequetly drunk on Miller High Life and victory) grabbed my suitcase and journeyed fourth through the rain to Mike, Michael, and Walt's .

We hung out for a while, I scoped out the pink bathroom, set down my stuff, and we were off. I didn't realize we were going into Manhattan when I got there, but hey, I love adventure. Mike told me we were going to go see a Queen coverband, Walt told me Mike only listens to glam rock, and I told myself this was going to be awesome.

We get to the East Village and the roommate and I have to pee. We stop into a bar called "The Pinch," which is just so perfect. This really isn't that interesting, but it's a good buffer for the next part of the story. We get to the club.

Wow, Almost Queen was Banana Muffins for Real. I mean, down to the mustache on Faux-Freddy Mercury's upper lip they looked and sounded like the real thing (or at least what I would assume their performance would be if it took place in a small New York club). The club was The Lion's Den in the East Village. With a cover of $15/what a make in a day at work, I was wary, but the performance more than lived up to the cover. Ultimately, it was worth not eating for a week. And who knows, maybe I'll start hallucinating and get to re-live the show all over again!

Outside there was a girl named _______ (name excluded because I can't remember) who bummed me and the other roommate each our own cigarettes. _______ thought the fact that I moved from Seattle was great, and we talked about how great it would be to see Seattle coverbands would be (like Nirvana or Soundgarden).

After the show, we went to a bar that I've never heard of and will probably never see again--not because it was a bad place, there are just so many places to go I've given up trying to keep track. I remember them playing "Rock DJ" by Robbie Williams, which scored poitns for the place. I also found a sopping wet $20 in the ATM. It's almost as if someone picked it up off the floor and (being an honest citizen) put it back in the ATM machine. h-WHAT!? Who would do that? Not me. That money went to beer.