Yeah, Ricky, I’d rather drive a truck too.
So yesterday started with a visit to the the Daphne Guiness exhibit atFIT. As I said in my “No Pants” post, it was truly astounding. Though I’m not very interested in fashion, I do love clothes, especially the kind of clothes Ms. Guiness collects: McQueen, Lacroix, Givenchy. So many rhinestones and feathers such sumptuous fabrics! Anyway…back to today’s non-no-pants-centric topic.
Once I’d sufficiently gotten my rock ‘n’ roll on, I took advantage of the balmy evening and strolled up to Revival, where I met fellow rockers Nick and Sandra. After a few drinks we headed over to Irving Plaza for “A Celebration for the Legendary Don Hill.” I had been looking forward to this event ever since I’d heard about it, anticipating a reunion, of sorts, and a star-studded evening. Not to mention seeing people I once saw on a weekly basis and now, not so much.
We arrived a few minutes after 9 o’clock to find that we’d missed the Toilet Boys, the only band I was actually interested in seeing. As the official Squeezebox house band, I’d incorrectly assumed that they’d go on last, right before the dancing began. Bah!
Maybe it was all the vodka crans I’d downed, which hadn’t seemed to have any effect on me whatsoever. Or perhaps it was the presence of so many sad sacks I was happy to have left behind a decade ago. It also could’ve been that we got there too early; the Squeezebox segment of the evening might’ve been more fun. The folks on the VIP balcony were looking smug in their VIP-ness while the hoi polloi below yearned to climb the stairs. Since I had the proper sticker, I was able to experience both, and both were…boring. By midnight I was done.
I’m sorry to sound so cranky about this…I was fortunate enough to be a “plus one” — and a damn good thing, since if I’d spent $30 I would’ve been even more cranky! — but perhaps it’s smart to have zero expectations… I find it’s a pleasant surprise when a party or event is way more fun than I’d anticipated. But is it necessary to live in a constant state of reduced expectations? It’s bad enough that I approach online dating with that attitude. A night that promised over 50 performers, many of whom are household names, in an enormous venue should’ve been packed to the rafters. It should’ve been a fucking blast. Instead it was like a visit to an old folk’s home. Granted, most of this crew is over 40, if not over 50. But it’s sad that so many have succumbed to age. I mean, I may be old but I’m not OLD!
Which leads me to the conclusion that club or party “reunions” aren’t necessarily a good idea. So many people have moved — or moved on — and don’t show up. Those who do show up are never the way you remember them. And the event never even vaguely approaches the memory of the good times you had, back in the day. Nah, it’s best to look ahead, create new nightlife, and new memories, even if that means hiring a babysitter so you can go out to a movie. Heaven forbid. Color me self-satisfied!