Eleven

There are simply too many great things to mention about this past weekend, which was spent in the Big Apple with two of my closest acquaintances. Here's what happened.

It started off with a day with a Broadway show (The Lion King) with the girlfriend. During intermission, we were granted access to seats at the front of the mezzanine, a free one hundred dollar upgrade. The show was a creative one, though some of the dance sequences were awkwardly dodgy (for example, why would you insert a techno-themed promenade in the middle of Scar's ominous anthem "Be Prepared?"). Still, for the most part, the show successfully instilled feelings of nostalgia and satisfaction.

We then made our way to the Museum of Sex, where my girlfriend and I learned a lot about the sex lives of animals and (some other) people. Sketchy? A little, but we were reminded at the entrance not to steal, lick, mount, or stroke the exhibits. Touching is okay though, and the exhibits give you ample opportunities to do that.

After dinner at Cascina, a visit to the M&M factory store, and a good night's rest, my girlfriend and I tackled Saturday afternoon. This was no ordinary Saturday - this was the Fourth of July in New York City. We spent a few hours in the American Museum of Natural History (me for the fourth time, my girlfriend for the first). We visited the "Extreme Mammals" exhibit, watched two beavers build a dam in IMAX, and viewed fifteen types of fauna that I would normally have classified under the general term "deer." It was all very fun though. Plus, my girlfriend was essentially one-upped in her knowledge of animals by a spectacled-ten-year-old-Asian child ("That is not a flying squirrel.") as well as by yours truly ("Bats are mammals, sweetie.").

Upon exiting the museum, my girlfriend and I convened with a close friend of mine, and the three of us went to Chinatown for some cheap but delicious food. After three large bowls of Pho, and some walking around, we headed off to Pacha, my NYC nightclub of choice. Unfortunately, Pacha was closed (seriously? On Independence night?) and we had to defer to a club named Cielo, also known for its house music. We almost did not make it, as our cab driver decided to smash into another cab pulling out from the curb. This was the first automobile accident that I have ever been a part of. I was not too frightened for the most part, but the scariest moment occured right after the crash, when I realized that smoke was seeping out from under the front hood and that all three of us had to exit the car right away. Nobody was seriously injured, so everything was fine.

Cielo was a great time, but the house music was different from the popular Pacha-style. The beats were deep and the bass was smooth. Deep progressive house music filled the air with perpetual rhythm and funky vibrations. The girls were pretty and the guys were on the hunt. That night was all about the funky, groovy beats.

In the end, the best part of the weekend was not about what we did, but about what we felt. It is always nice to spend some time with the people that you love. And it is always nice to feel loved by those closest to you as well.

-B