It's So Easy Being Cheesy

It was a packed enough Saturday as it was. I was on deadline. My homegirl Brandi was turning 30 and I was set to attend a sampler performance at the New York City Center. So when I got the staticky call from my boy Ralph and his fiance saying that they were in town I knew that it was going to be overload, particularly after they mentioned that it was Sonya's birthday and that there was a boat cruise party being held in her honor. There something about the idea of a party on a boat that gives one an image of elegance and style, particularly after I was told that I needed to be a little fresh to be admitted. I couldn't wait.

The evening started out nutty as I had to do a last minute favor for my mother which cut my time at Brandi's down to nil and made me late for the dance show. Then it was a journey all the way to Harlem just so I could cab it with Ralph and Sonja back down to the pier on the West Side.

"You're gonna have a good time tonight," Sonya said. "It'll be interesting."

As 'interesting" was a word I use in a variety of contexts I had a feeling that I was the butt of a joke that wouldn't be revealed until it was all too late. When the first thing you see is a 5'5 sista who's a good 300 pounds wearing tight spandex with slits that go all the way up to her hips on both sides says something, as does the guy in the purple pleather jacket and matching pants, or the brother in the red dress shirt with the homemade nylon vest. A lot of gold teeth. Massive security. As a final point of description, the men were supposed to wait while the ladies enjoyed an all-male review on one of the boats set aside specifically for plus-sized women. Somewhere between the DJ who put seemed to throw on anything ever head on the radio and the guy who looked like a fake Tommy from Martin chain-smoking blunts, I found the most entertainment in Twittering at three in the morning and dreaming of better days.

This week marks my tenth anniversary of leaving Atlanta. It seems like just yesterday that I, the then 23 year-old, packed what I could into my little Honda and made my way north, first stopping in DC for a few months before my adventurous landing in Hoboken. My laptop died on me today. May she rest in peace. As I submerge in darkness I know that like the hope that always floats, I will reemerge anew dripping with light. Over and out.