The Loading Dock

Last night I sat on the loading dock of an abandoned factory in Gowanus and played guitar for a few hours. I seriously thought that I had found a street where no person would tread. Oh, how I was wrong. First I was approached by two guys in their early twenties who quite likely are punks. One told me what an awesome ax I had and I politely replied, "Thank You."

An hour later, I saw a group of people approaching as I played. I thought they were all dressed in red, but I shook my head and thought maybe I was imagining it. In fact a group of people all dressed in nothing but red clothing; vests, top hats, ties, etc. approached, quite real.

It was a circus of red. Suddenly they all stopped simultaneously like an army of robots and one of them spoke, quite possibly the leader. He said "Do you know how to get to the smith and 9th subway stop?"


I replied "oh, well, um walk down there, take a left, walk to 9th street, take a right, cross the bridge, and You're there."

They all politely smiled like a church camp group and said "thank you."

When it started raining, I decided to pack up my guitar and head to the Snakes on a Plane party I had been slightly dreading. I didn't know how fun a snakes on a plane party with random people who for some reason all worked at Star magazine could be. Those snakes on a plane fanatics know how to party.

Personally, I must say, do I really need more reasons to fear flying? Why do we have to throw in motherfucking snakes? I'm already scared out of my mind and you have to add snakes into the mix. It's not fair.