A Great Weekend to Gain an Hour of Sleep (or, Goodbye Daylight Savings)

Wow, what a weekend, and I didn't even partake in any Halloween festivities. Okay, that last part is not entirely true. I did attend two Halloween parties, but for those who know me, my costume fell far short of my usual standards. I went as a married New Yorker. It was a stretch.

Even dressed as myself, I had a pretty good time this weekend. On Friday, I saw a band called Virginia Coalition at the Blue Note. My friend Charlie (who is a ying-yang version of Forrester: same look, no ego) grew up with the drummer, so he invited us to check out the show. The concert was in the late slot, scheduled to begin at 12:30. After cooking a nice dinner at home, my wife and I headed over to the club, using my huge umbrella to shield us from the rain. We got in line about midnight and met up with Charlie and his friends, and waited, and waited, and waited.

At 1:00 AM, we still hadn't gotten in the club, so the male portion of the group tried another route: we helped the band unload the truck, hoping that would get our group in. We were wrong. Unfortunately, we ran into Doogie Howser, Club Doorman. So we got back in line and waited for another 30 minutes. Finally, after my wife's arm was completely soaked, we got in and sat down to see Virginia Coalition. They were pretty good (they played a great jam band cover of "No Diggity"), and they played a long show, so we didn't get home until after four. What's really weird is that of all the tiny little touring bands in the country, we had already seen Virginia Coalition -- in Tempe last year when the band opened for G. Love. Let's see, I've never seen the Stones or Dylan, I've only seen Radiohead and the Roots once, and now I've seen some random college band from Virginia twice? That doesn't make sense.

After sleeping in on Saturday, we walked around the neighborhood, picking up a few items at the new Brooklyn Industries (I finally own a sweatshirt). Then, after a great nap, we went to a Halloween party at one of our friend's apartments. She's from ASU, goes to fashion school and lives with two gay guys -- so not only was I probably the only straight guy there (with the exception of the jerk in the turtleneck and blazer), but I was probably the worst dressed guy in the room (again, with the exception of the jerk in the turtleneck and blazer).

After enjoying the plentiful appetizer and strong drinks, we walked out into the cold, bought two large keg cans of Heineken and headed down to Pier 40 to watch . . .

(are you ready for it?)


(really ready?)


RUGBY! Yes, Stern has a rugby team, though you wouldn't have known it from the way the team got crushed by Columbia's rugby team. There we were, standing on a soaking wet fake field on a pier, with the temperature falling and a quite a strong wind. Good thing someone brought some Knob Creek to warm us up. Anyway, rugby is a weird sport. It's sort of a combination of olde time football, youth soccer, smear the queer and cheerleading. Yes, cheerleading. On throw ins, the players get into four small groups and lift up guys by their shorts. I found the whole thing fascinating, mainly because even the players couldn't explain the rules to me.

After the match finished, we jumped in a cab and headed uptown, to the upper west side, to another Halloween party -- one hosted by one of my wife's friends from high school. In fact, true to form out came the high school yearbook. Ah, nothing like good friends, good drinks and the old high school yearbook on a Halloween.

Next year I'm dressing up.