A Rare Occurrence

My landmark stories on this blog have been on trips to New York City.

Henry Miller said,

when a man finally meets his soulmate, all other women are shadows.

Venice and I met online; I’m a Rabbit, and she’s a Pig on the horoscope. I tell her,

I’ve booked a flight for the weekend, can you pick me up? 

I’ll be there with bells on my fingers and rubies on my toes, Henry.

It’s Indian Summer in the city; the leaves are changing, and the Fancy Dancers are pow-wowing, live, on the planks of Madison Square Garden.

At Key West International, I pay cash at the gate, then make my way to departure, boarding, and walking to my window seat. 

It’s not about logistics it's about fucking flying; Henry hates everything about it.

At JFK, he makes a bi-line for the departure area; Venita’s sitting in the back of the limousine. We thought it would rain, but it didn’t, so we're off to a good start. 

I’ve booked a room for us at the Romaine Hotel & Spa.

After checking in, we lounge around on the made-up bed, watching a few minutes of Jeopardy and playing tic tak toe with a pen on the bed sheet; it’s a sunny day.

We catch the B Train to Times Square for the premiere  screening of Decency For the Pigmies;

the shows a cry out for little people everywhere, the Peter Dinklages, and the Warrick Daviss out there.

At 5pm, Henry and Venice are hungering down in  Die Wolfen Pub, thumb wrestling for the tab she wins and orders;

we'll have a pitcher of White Russians blended at slow speed, 

yes, ma’am anything else?

Yes a large order of  BBQ Chicken Wings with Buffalo sauce.

We drink 4 pitchers of the brew; and we're pye-eyed fucked.

The bartender calls us a cab.

The ride to Romaine Resort and Spa is uneventful; we opt for the full spa treatment and take the elevator to the roof; there’s a Bedouin tent and a swimming pool side by side there; we pass out in the Evian water pool; it’s chilly and refreshing. So I say, 

ah, we’ll have Himalayan salt paraffin massage.

                         

Henry choices a young Phillipina and Venice, a Negro man; we go to separate rooms.

The Negro masseur tells Venice to undress and lay on her back, she obliges.

I ask my Phillipina if the Negro is gay,

Yes, he is, 

I ask her,

are you gay? 

Sometimes if I feel like it. 

Will you come down on me?

Yes, I'd love it.

That rim job goes on and on forever, it's never-ending, such a;

rare occurrence.