Down and Out On 255 Elizabeth St.

So I’m getting on the “Fung Wa bus”. Before I could pay the $15 it takes to get to NYC, I was accosted by a slightly retarded youth.
“ Can I have $15 to get back to NYC, my fam…?”
I stopped listening and I thought to myself... what good karma it would be to start this trip, by helping this cross eyed red head back to NYC.
I gave him the $15 and said “are you gonna talk to me on the ride…”
“ The WHOLE time” he says.
“ NO, don’t say a word to me, you are weird, and I am paying you NOT to talk to me”.

We board the bus and I get the three empty adjoined seats in the very back, thinking I won the lottery. A moderately good-looking girl asked if I wanted to sit next to her…., “Why don’t you sit back here with me…” I ask… she says “cuz those seats don’t lean back.”
Fuck.
So I enjoyed the ride in my straight backed seats…
About 2 hours into it... the not good looking girl in front of me asks “can you see what I dropped down there?” I looked for like a cell phone or something and I saw a fake red alligator wallet. I picked it up and asked her if it was hers. She’s like “No.” so I’m like “I’ll split it with you…”
She snatches the wallet out of my hands and is like “You’re a bad person”...
My answer… “I was just kidding!”
She did not find it funny or believe me.
So I tell her to open it and see if there is a phone number and we’ll call it. The girl’s license pic was really cute; we’ll call her Heather for now. So ugly snitch leaves a message on Heathers machine “hey I found your wallet on the fung wa... here’s my number”. Then we go through the rest of Heathers wallet, and we see that she is like a voice over specialist… and I thought how awesome would that be even on the phone she would sound super hot... but then its like, if you sound hot all day for work.. when she gets home it will be like…talking to Marges’ sisters on the Simpson’s...

So its 11:45 and I’m almost to Chinatown NYC, I’m supposed to meet Spungie to go to this Nike thing, so I call Spunge.
“ Dude, I’m in NEW YORK”!
“ Rob, Man... I just woke up... let me call you back...” click
Not what I wanted to hear upon my arrival. So I slowly walk through china town, noticing people from the bus slowly dissipate into the sea of people in NYC. I go to Supreme... nothing... DQM... nothing... did I mention it was the hottest day of the fucking year, and I have all my clothes for tonight and tomorrow, in my backpack? I find myself in toy-Tokyo and the Is no store owner, I think about stealing something... then thought... the day is young and I’m not into toys enough to fight a ninja for them. So I call Spunge again... “Dude the hotel is kicking us out, I’ll call you back…” not what I wanted to hear...
I find myself on St. Marks street and drinking in a cheap bar at 1pm. Different people make conversation, but by 2:30... I’m hammered. I decide I’m not going to waste my day in the city; I take a cab to Times Square. After 2 minutes of that I’m loosing my buzz and need to find another bar, the Times Square Brewery will do for now, plus it had a good view of the MTV studios.. And I was certain I’d see Carson Daly or Usher if I looked hard enough. After ordering the “sampler” a business looking gentleman asked me if I was from Boston. We bullshitted about computers until I said I was from prison. He didn’t believe me, but then 4 beers later admitted he had also done some time. We drank and talked until 7:00pm when I remembered I needed to get to 255 Elizabeth ST, for this Nike I.D. event. Since Spungie was no-where to be found I invited Jim. Jim may or may not have been his name, but for this night of drunken debauchery it will do. The bouncer/doorman at 255 was almost secret service looking and when he let us in I felt like I was getting away with something. We filled out some paper work and it was on… some hot Hungarian girl in an orange polo was giving me Heinekens, and I was surrounded by sneaker royalty. Jor-One and Woody greeted me and I immediately asked if I could sleep on their floor, because I wanted to party... but had no place to stay. They both felt weird about it (or maybe one of their floors already had a co-pilot) and denied me floor access. Lori from femalesneakerfiend.com recognized me, and to be honest, that was the first time it ever happened! (Being recognized by someone that I didn’t owe money too) Dave White also made an appearance and after a few Heinekens more all I remember is asking the giant bouncer Andrew (also the creator of "SB Wear") if he thought he could “get me out” like if he had to remove me... could he. And yes he could, it only took a few headlocks and chicken wing arm locks to get me out. I did make a custom I.D. shoe, but it was right when the party was over... and right where my night was beginning.
I stumble on the sidewalk and Jim had already acquired a cab, for some reason I turn car rides into hilarious endeavors, involving any and all innocent bystanders… including people not in the cab…

Jim says he knows a place I can stay for $70 bucks… which in Manhattan is a hard find, because I think you’re not allowed to say the word “HOTEL” without paying $475. Sure enough Jim came through, and it wasn’t a hostel, it was the Ramada on the eastside. I put my gear down, put on my new J$ shirt and a sleeve on my head and I was ready for anything. Well anything sometimes means Jim bringing you to the Bronx to buy crack from a homeless guy, who had beat him before. (“beat” my young pad-wan learners mean take money and not give the product…. Beat... try it out!)
I decided to sit on the milk crate that doubles as the homeless mans office by day... and by the stack of porn next to it could quite possibly be his after hours spot. I was introduced to a hooker that was released from prison not 20 minutes before... this hooker was tremendously ugly so I asked if she actually made money in her line of work… she said she did, and she was not very pretty because she was really a dude. I congratulated the transvestite prostitute for being so ugly but could still bring in the chedda!

Jim returns with “his” idea of a good time finds a cab and demands to go back to the hotel. Jim was about 36 and had all the old David Lee Roth sayings to go with his age, and a few fabulous songs as well. “Fire it up”, “this cab is slower than old people fuck” “FA-BO-LO-US!”! We jump out of the cab a block before the Ramada, while Jim goes in a convenient store to get the necessary paraphernalia; I took a piss on the street.

Back in the room Jimmy James fashions a crack pipe out of a 7-UP can. My job was to keep the ash going on a Marlboro. The ash is used to keep the crack from falling into the can, or being sucked into your face. There is nothing worse than inhaling a melting ball of crack. Jim torches a few rocks while I pound a few beers. I was ready to hit the town. I leave the hotel and walk in whatever direction seemed right and not 75 steps later I’m entering a drinking establishment. I yell things to every woman I see; “LADIES” was popular… or “where’s the party” is a good opener because sometimes they will show you where the party is. This place had loud music and loud people... I fit right in. A quick scan of the major players and supporting roles in this movie led me to believe the hottest girls in here were seated directly behind me…. They went to Boston College. That’s all I remember. I do remember an ambulance coming, and at some point Jim leaving to go smoke more crack. This bar was more uneventful than I had anticipated. Bars close at like 3am so that must have been about the time I started the long journey back to the room. I reach into my pocket, and what used to be a grip of clean $20’s was now a wad of ones, receipts, and those things people hand you. Where was that transvestite hooker? Almost there. Climbing into the elevator was like running in the iron man competition. It was then I realized Jim had the only key to the room… I get to my door and knock… silence... great. Suddenly it opens in a fever only a raging crackhead can produce in a moment of complete paranoia. My room smells like burnt plastic, there is a porno on the TV that I know I’m going to have to pay for and a little crack station set up on the desk. Jim offers me a hit and I was more than all set. The sun was starting to come up and Jim says “I’m out dude; I left you some rocks on the table if you change your mind….” WOW. That is the greatest form of honor and camaraderie. A full blown crackhead, LEAVING me a few hits…. Only in New York.