When we were much younger, we flew to New York for a weekend. One of us flew first class, and had no idea what the hot towel was all about. I talked philosophy with a man much smarter than me. We should have known we were in over our heads.
Upon arrival, we hunted for sneakers, documenting stores and prices in a notebook. We drank beer in bags. We slept in broken beds and used communal washrooms. I was made fun of by a homeless man. We politely refused the chance to buy postcards to send home to our girls, asking for intercourse in a new… ah, location. We bought thirty VHS kung fu video tapes from the store the Wu shopped at. We were stopped at customs and then rushed to the gate in one of those airport shuttles for handicapped people.
We walked around in a state of wonder and awe, but for those few days, we felt like royalty.
The reason we gave for going was to see Guided By Voices. I don’t remember if they played this song. It doesn’t matter.