Warehouses

I don't know who decided to start having massive ragers in warehouses, but whoever it was must have been a pretty cool guy. We start the night by an overwhelming concern of being lost in an area of Brooklyn where most of us have never been. For a bit, things look pretty nice, like a little bit of the suburbs more closely built up, and the hideous presence of the BQE. We end up in what seems to have been a previously industrialized area that has died down since industry has pretty much vacated the five boroughs. Obviously we know the way.

Enter stage two, dancing on a stage after a couple beers and after having several more, someone ends up on a table. Running into people I know via 6 degrees of separation, I am slowly finding myself overwhelmingly intoxicated, knowing in the back of my head it will soon be time to leave. Dancing, feeling good about the current situation and the people I'm with, I see Paulie Bleecker. We kiss and he tells me his name is Ricky - a "pre-med student like everyone else living on the coolest floor in Lafayette" - but that I can call him Michael. As in Michael Cera. As in, if I were sober, I would have laughed and walked away, but being drunk and thinking this guy actually looks like Michael Cera, I go with it.

I woke up still drunk and somehow managed to make bracelets for four hours with 5 year olds. I amaze myself.

At least I stayed sober for the better half of yesterday.