viana, puffy & me
i remember during my partying days in nyc when i would meet someone with a child partying amongs us and how horrified i would be. i remember seeing what i thought to be "older" women at parties and thinking, wow, i sure hope i don't end up like that! thinking it the worst fate ever, as if a partying soul is something you could just hang up to rest like a pair of worn shoes. i'm not saying that i party as i used to, but there are people and little moments that when combined, make for the best partying experience no matter what the age.
my girl viana is such a person. i mean, when we get together there's a magic that happens where it's actually not even about the party or necessarily the music but the laughter that comes bubbling out that seems to have been bottled up within for way too long.
last week she emails me a rsvp to puffy's party. it's your birthday present she tells me. hmmm, i think to myself--i'm not convinced. first of all, it's puffy. i mean, i'm sure as a human being he's ok and all that, but puffy has always been like diamonds to me--flashy and tacky. but then, there was the other aspect of it, the one v knew would convince me in the end: black people in copenhagen?!? let's go! so although i don't share what seems to be whatever it is that puffy or p.diddy espouses as cool--hypermaterialism and watered down guitar rock, i sacrifice my tuesday night sleep to hang with v.
the theme is black. great. now everyone and they momma gonna know where i'm headed. awright, i say, i'll do it. i'm picturing a haven of black faces and dope hip hop beats. i'm picturing a glass of wine and a crowd so eclectic i'll be transported to new york city, if only for a few hours. i'm thinking, i might just like this puffy guy after all, coming all the way over to copenhagen and giving us some flava! i'm actually in a good mood and feel some adrenaline left over from my early 20s start pumping! i'm smiling and blow-drying my hair and pulling out black dresses i forgot i had. i'm so happy i'm thinking, shit, imma wear heels!
i go against my principals and take a cab. i mean, i usually bike cuz a. it's cheap and b. it's good for the environment and c. i can't drive and d. i don't have a car anyway. but not tonight. im meeting my girl v and you know what? imma treat myself to a cab! i call the cab and wobble down my four flights of stairs (who ever invented heals must have really hated women!!!!hello!)
anyway, the cab driver is young and handsome. i notice these things cuz i ain't dead. anyway, i tell him where i'm going in english and he don't understand cuz he from turkey and he speaks danish. so, i begin to speak the danish that i have been so reluctant to learn and speak. after almost 10 years here, it falls out of my mouth like precious stones i knew not to be in my possession, and i am startled. du snakker godt dansk he says to me. i beat him to the next, usual questions which inevitably sprouts up once a "foreigner" is around, hvor kommer du fra? he answers turkey. ooooh turkey, i would so love to go to turkey! just think, it was the fall of constantinople that really got the christians going! but anyway, i digress. he is startled that i want to travel to turkey...why not, i ask? turkey seems cool to me. he hits me back with that other question...hvor kommer du fra? ew. i don't like that question cuz the answer is not easy...i'm from brooklyn, comes my usual first response. but then my parents come from trinidad, the caribbean. i lived some time there too. ok, now that it's settled that we are two foreigners he asks, what do you think about the danes?
the million dollar question. like i said i been here for almost 10 years and i know this conversation could go either of two ways. the first road would be to just vent your frustrations and be like damn danish people are all a bunch of f%#"king farmers and they are so intolerant and cold and they think they sooooo cooool! or, i could be all mature and rationale and offer the whole well, you know, they are like every one else man, while doing the whole hippie peace sign thing. and so, supported by the extreme optimism i am feeling cuz i am on my way to see my girl v and puffy and black people i choose road number 2. and continue, you just got to be happy where ever you are dude... i can see he is not used to that answer and suspiciously he asks, why are you here? i tell him. oh, he says triumphantly, you are married to one, that is why. homer simpson doh!
anyway, i don't care. i'm gonna party with puff and v tonight. i don't tell him about the years of depressions and the separation and the bitterness and the hatred that i have only now allowed myself to let go of because let's face it, i had become to depend on it in some strange way. i didn't tell him that because i tried so hard to hold on to what i thought to be my identity that in the end i felt that become my identity. but anyway, our spirits connected, i think, in only that way they can in a cab--fleetingly yet profoundly. he ended up driving me down a pedestrian only street, breaking the law so that i did not break my legs (those damn heels!).
i meet v at a very trendy cocktail lounge where every one, surprise! is in in black. we drink wine and v spills wine on this guy i kinda know, but she stops me from telling him. in a fit of laziness, i comply--he didn't seem to notice anyway. i didn't have time to feel bad--we were on our way to see puffy!
i know my girl v wants to be at this party more than snoop wants a joint. see, v misses nyc big time, and things like this rejuvinate her, remind her that life out there ain't necessarily as feng as things up here in cph are. it reminds her of the cool chaos that is nyc, of the blasting together of various variables in the centrufal force of the big apple. the party starts at 10 but we have invites so we cooly drink our drinks and quarter to 11, we decide to grace puff with our presence.
the party is right around the corner. as we make our way towards the large crowd, spotlights are glaring down at what we can now see as nothing other than a very hungry and desperate to get in crowd. before panic descends upon us, v grabs me by the hand and declares, let's go. her head is held high and i decided nervously, to put my fate into her hands--after all she works at cover!
v seems blinded by the glare of the bling and temporarily loses all sense of reasoning. she dives into the crowd and makes her way straight to the doormen. i mean, we had to make our way through a very thick crowd, but possessed with an attitude of destiny, it was if the crowd parted just for her.
they don't let us in. every one and they momma got a invite too, and if we want to get in, we better get on line. our eyes follow his gaze and to our horror, we realize just how not special we are. meanwhile, all the young, beautiful and famous in dk people whizz by us so fast, i think v will get whiplash from following thier appearances to their disappearances.
lez, you have to do something now! my girl v turns into an unbearable boss and if i were not myself she would have instilled fear in me. but i am me and i'm like grinning from ear to ear. i'm digging every damn moment of this, i'm digging the crowds, the pushing, the camera, the lights, the doormen who are so professional they are obviously not letting any women over 25 in, the fact that i am over 25, the metamophosis of my girl v from, well, my girl v into this woman scorned at the door, and despite the fact that i find myself doing something i would never normally do, that is wait outside in the cold to get into a party, i am having a GREAT time! i'm not even thinking about getting into this party!
finally, my girl v gives up. we decided to go over to a cafe and have a drink. we end up staying there until 3am . we have two gorgeous just returned from barcelona bartenders who are on thier way to nyc. v and i try lip-enhancing gloss (it's all natural v says!) and drink champagne. we diss puff and say he can't dance noway! we see all the other customers all dressed in black and together, we form a comraderie and lick our wounds of rejection. finally, it's time to go home. should we try one more time v asks. goodness, it's like the blind leading the blind cuz of course i say yes. i hop on her son's seat behind her bike and we head over there. it's her rangerover we say. we go over and find the same bachannal as before. as we get ready to take off, a young man begins to chat with us. what is going on in there? we fill him in on the details and he smiles. as i hop on v's babyseat for my ride home in the rangerover he gives us a baffled look. you mean you have a child? he asks v. yes. she does too. he takes a double take and continues, where is your children? he asks, totally surprise, who is taking care of your children?. thier fathers, we reply, smiling because we understand the sentiment of his question because in the end, we too are incredulous that we gave up time to spend with our little men to be here--at puffy's party. but we don't need to say that to each other, because we know and of course if we had gotten in--well, that's another story! as we bike off, we pass a group of sisters on the corner. hoping to protect them from the similar fate, we yell, its not worth it girls, they not letting anyone in. the girls are beautiful and young and black. v and i are feeling good because in the end we ended up achieving something that's getting more difficult to do between our two schedules, we managed to spend time with each other. our happiness is punctured, if but for a fleeting moment when the girls reply, hold kæft du f#¤cking mulatt! what? v and i ask each other, first in shock and then we explode laughing. here we were, just trying to get close to black people and in the end we get, Shut the f")&k up you damn biracials! when we are not even, a. biracial and b. a mule.
oh, and by the way--remember that guy who v spilled wine on? well, he got in.
my girl viana is such a person. i mean, when we get together there's a magic that happens where it's actually not even about the party or necessarily the music but the laughter that comes bubbling out that seems to have been bottled up within for way too long.
last week she emails me a rsvp to puffy's party. it's your birthday present she tells me. hmmm, i think to myself--i'm not convinced. first of all, it's puffy. i mean, i'm sure as a human being he's ok and all that, but puffy has always been like diamonds to me--flashy and tacky. but then, there was the other aspect of it, the one v knew would convince me in the end: black people in copenhagen?!? let's go! so although i don't share what seems to be whatever it is that puffy or p.diddy espouses as cool--hypermaterialism and watered down guitar rock, i sacrifice my tuesday night sleep to hang with v.
the theme is black. great. now everyone and they momma gonna know where i'm headed. awright, i say, i'll do it. i'm picturing a haven of black faces and dope hip hop beats. i'm picturing a glass of wine and a crowd so eclectic i'll be transported to new york city, if only for a few hours. i'm thinking, i might just like this puffy guy after all, coming all the way over to copenhagen and giving us some flava! i'm actually in a good mood and feel some adrenaline left over from my early 20s start pumping! i'm smiling and blow-drying my hair and pulling out black dresses i forgot i had. i'm so happy i'm thinking, shit, imma wear heels!
i go against my principals and take a cab. i mean, i usually bike cuz a. it's cheap and b. it's good for the environment and c. i can't drive and d. i don't have a car anyway. but not tonight. im meeting my girl v and you know what? imma treat myself to a cab! i call the cab and wobble down my four flights of stairs (who ever invented heals must have really hated women!!!!hello!)
anyway, the cab driver is young and handsome. i notice these things cuz i ain't dead. anyway, i tell him where i'm going in english and he don't understand cuz he from turkey and he speaks danish. so, i begin to speak the danish that i have been so reluctant to learn and speak. after almost 10 years here, it falls out of my mouth like precious stones i knew not to be in my possession, and i am startled. du snakker godt dansk he says to me. i beat him to the next, usual questions which inevitably sprouts up once a "foreigner" is around, hvor kommer du fra? he answers turkey. ooooh turkey, i would so love to go to turkey! just think, it was the fall of constantinople that really got the christians going! but anyway, i digress. he is startled that i want to travel to turkey...why not, i ask? turkey seems cool to me. he hits me back with that other question...hvor kommer du fra? ew. i don't like that question cuz the answer is not easy...i'm from brooklyn, comes my usual first response. but then my parents come from trinidad, the caribbean. i lived some time there too. ok, now that it's settled that we are two foreigners he asks, what do you think about the danes?
the million dollar question. like i said i been here for almost 10 years and i know this conversation could go either of two ways. the first road would be to just vent your frustrations and be like damn danish people are all a bunch of f%#"king farmers and they are so intolerant and cold and they think they sooooo cooool! or, i could be all mature and rationale and offer the whole well, you know, they are like every one else man, while doing the whole hippie peace sign thing. and so, supported by the extreme optimism i am feeling cuz i am on my way to see my girl v and puffy and black people i choose road number 2. and continue, you just got to be happy where ever you are dude... i can see he is not used to that answer and suspiciously he asks, why are you here? i tell him. oh, he says triumphantly, you are married to one, that is why. homer simpson doh!
anyway, i don't care. i'm gonna party with puff and v tonight. i don't tell him about the years of depressions and the separation and the bitterness and the hatred that i have only now allowed myself to let go of because let's face it, i had become to depend on it in some strange way. i didn't tell him that because i tried so hard to hold on to what i thought to be my identity that in the end i felt that become my identity. but anyway, our spirits connected, i think, in only that way they can in a cab--fleetingly yet profoundly. he ended up driving me down a pedestrian only street, breaking the law so that i did not break my legs (those damn heels!).
i meet v at a very trendy cocktail lounge where every one, surprise! is in in black. we drink wine and v spills wine on this guy i kinda know, but she stops me from telling him. in a fit of laziness, i comply--he didn't seem to notice anyway. i didn't have time to feel bad--we were on our way to see puffy!
i know my girl v wants to be at this party more than snoop wants a joint. see, v misses nyc big time, and things like this rejuvinate her, remind her that life out there ain't necessarily as feng as things up here in cph are. it reminds her of the cool chaos that is nyc, of the blasting together of various variables in the centrufal force of the big apple. the party starts at 10 but we have invites so we cooly drink our drinks and quarter to 11, we decide to grace puff with our presence.
the party is right around the corner. as we make our way towards the large crowd, spotlights are glaring down at what we can now see as nothing other than a very hungry and desperate to get in crowd. before panic descends upon us, v grabs me by the hand and declares, let's go. her head is held high and i decided nervously, to put my fate into her hands--after all she works at cover!
v seems blinded by the glare of the bling and temporarily loses all sense of reasoning. she dives into the crowd and makes her way straight to the doormen. i mean, we had to make our way through a very thick crowd, but possessed with an attitude of destiny, it was if the crowd parted just for her.
they don't let us in. every one and they momma got a invite too, and if we want to get in, we better get on line. our eyes follow his gaze and to our horror, we realize just how not special we are. meanwhile, all the young, beautiful and famous in dk people whizz by us so fast, i think v will get whiplash from following thier appearances to their disappearances.
lez, you have to do something now! my girl v turns into an unbearable boss and if i were not myself she would have instilled fear in me. but i am me and i'm like grinning from ear to ear. i'm digging every damn moment of this, i'm digging the crowds, the pushing, the camera, the lights, the doormen who are so professional they are obviously not letting any women over 25 in, the fact that i am over 25, the metamophosis of my girl v from, well, my girl v into this woman scorned at the door, and despite the fact that i find myself doing something i would never normally do, that is wait outside in the cold to get into a party, i am having a GREAT time! i'm not even thinking about getting into this party!
finally, my girl v gives up. we decided to go over to a cafe and have a drink. we end up staying there until 3am . we have two gorgeous just returned from barcelona bartenders who are on thier way to nyc. v and i try lip-enhancing gloss (it's all natural v says!) and drink champagne. we diss puff and say he can't dance noway! we see all the other customers all dressed in black and together, we form a comraderie and lick our wounds of rejection. finally, it's time to go home. should we try one more time v asks. goodness, it's like the blind leading the blind cuz of course i say yes. i hop on her son's seat behind her bike and we head over there. it's her rangerover we say. we go over and find the same bachannal as before. as we get ready to take off, a young man begins to chat with us. what is going on in there? we fill him in on the details and he smiles. as i hop on v's babyseat for my ride home in the rangerover he gives us a baffled look. you mean you have a child? he asks v. yes. she does too. he takes a double take and continues, where is your children? he asks, totally surprise, who is taking care of your children?. thier fathers, we reply, smiling because we understand the sentiment of his question because in the end, we too are incredulous that we gave up time to spend with our little men to be here--at puffy's party. but we don't need to say that to each other, because we know and of course if we had gotten in--well, that's another story! as we bike off, we pass a group of sisters on the corner. hoping to protect them from the similar fate, we yell, its not worth it girls, they not letting anyone in. the girls are beautiful and young and black. v and i are feeling good because in the end we ended up achieving something that's getting more difficult to do between our two schedules, we managed to spend time with each other. our happiness is punctured, if but for a fleeting moment when the girls reply, hold kæft du f#¤cking mulatt! what? v and i ask each other, first in shock and then we explode laughing. here we were, just trying to get close to black people and in the end we get, Shut the f")&k up you damn biracials! when we are not even, a. biracial and b. a mule.
oh, and by the way--remember that guy who v spilled wine on? well, he got in.
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