New York, New York
February 6, 2004
When we burst through the entrance, we found out why there had been a wait: everybody had to put on white protective suits. The effect was crazy – there were about 800 people walking around, dancing, queuing for the toilet all wearing the same thing. Was it art? Was it a 1989 warehouse rave? It seemed either a very clever idea, a statement about fashion, or just an up-its-arse prank. Come to think of it, there was a camera crew there, so up-its-arse prank it must have been.
At first, all the people in white freaked me, but after a good few Heinekens at the free bar, I soon got into it and danced to the dub in one room and the funky techno beats in the other. I staggered later to the toilet where I lined for the cubicles behind a German with a camera. 'Professional?' I asked. 'Addict,' he replied and then promptly started to take photos. Why me? I look just like everyone else, mate. And talk about stage fright when I finally got into a cubicle. After a few breaths, I relaxed and thought about finding another beer downstairs. I opened the cubicle door and there he was -- snap, snap, snap, and screaming 'I am un addikt!" Hope my pic doesn't end up in some German techno magazine.
It must have done something to me; on the way home, I pointed out my white boiler suit to the taxi driver and claimed (fairly convincingly) that Lisa and The Lady had just stolen me from the hospital. The taxi driver asked me what I was in for -- I told him I was an addict.
From journal Wishful Thinking in New York : An insider's guide