Amateur Night

So how was your New Year's? Better than mine I trust? Let's just say having your first ever type 4 New Year's Eve is lame. But hey, at least the heat wasn't working in my apartment so I had to break out the champagne at 10:30, for warmth.

Since the details of that story be depressing -- here's a tale of which I am only cursorily involved and just about everyone who I see in person has already heard. A "friend" who we'll call C. Sinclair, no that's to specific, Chris S., was supposed to travel to New York City for a Christmas party a few Saturday's back.

The person who knew the party's location (yours truly) called him up on Friday to make sure it was still on with the Chinatown bus and what have you. He was in Baltimore to see some sort round robin electronic abortion. OK whatever, are you still going to New York? Yes? See you there. Give me a call tomorrow and I'll get you directions to the party.

Unfortunately that call never came and all attempts to reach him went straight to voicemail. Given that last contact was a slurry call around midnight that involved attempting to tell him where he was by looking it up in google maps, followed by descriptions of his location as "some Wire shit" -- prospects were not keen that he was going to get to New York.

So it with some surprise that there was a facebook wall post from Sinclair on Saturday asking the address and naming the specific street in Brooklyn where the party was being held. Apparently he had triangulated the location by looking at various photos and captions on flickr and facebook, eventually homing in the exact house by asking neighbors where the white people lived. And a good time was had by all. Bonfires.

You may wonder what happened with the phone. Well the answer is simple and obvious: He crashed into one of those metal fences they have out front of concert venues to control the line and his phone fell in a puddle. Because he was riding his bike (did I mention he was on his bike this whole time?) and the brakes weren't working because they were wet. There are other details that I left out for brevity, like trying to sleep at a McDonald's in Manhattan because he never slept Friday night. Also picture him wearing a bicycle helmet for the entire duration of the story.

Sinclair later described this as "the best weekend ever"