Watersports on New Years Day
I see piss coming, I move. She saw piss coming, she stayed.
I decided to bring in 2024 at a highly curated house party hosted by my Radical Faerie former roommate and their downstairs neighbors in Bushwick. The theme had something to do with heaven and hell; attendees were encouraged to dress up accordingly and were given additional mood board buzz words: Scary 80s puppets, Pee Wee Couture, Beetlejuice dinner party attire, and Golden Girl Kaftans. (I met a few Gen-Zers at the party who said they had to Google the references.) The night had a full DJ lineup from 7pm - late.
I showed up in a cute little distressed t-shirt dress that was screaming at me from the hangar in my closet. It didn’t exactly fit the theme, but it just felt so good to put on. And who wouldn’t want to start the new year feeling good?
Early on in the night, I met a young lady who had recently moved to NYC. We got to chatting, and she asked me if the city had any cool art shows. Specifically, the kind you don’t find in galleries or at fancy exhibitions, but more so in some random warehouse or non-descript location. I was like, “Girl, welcome to Brooklyn. That shit is everywhere.”
Fast forward to well after midnight when I ran into her again on the dancefloor, both of us good and toasty by that point.
She looked at me and said, “Oh my God, hiiii! I had to lose my stockings.”
I looked down at her legs, realizing that I never noticed her stockings in the first place.
“Some girl peed on them,” she said.
I’m not 100% certain of the face I made at that moment, but I imagine it was something akin to a shocked matriarch in a telenovela.
“Oh my God. How… What… You know what? It doesn’t matter. You look great without the stockings. Also, I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said.
“Oh no, it’s fine. It was actually kind of hot,” she said.