The legend of Zack Sang.

 

“When its 100 degrees in New York, it’s 72 in Los Angeles. When its 30 degrees in New York, in Los Angeles it’s still 72. However, there are 6 million interesting people in New York, and only 72 in Los Angeles.” Neil Simon

The pier to Governors island is littered with jorts and floral print dresses. Finance boys in their best set of cargo shorts with flip-flops and fashion girls failing to keep their side boobs in check. Music nerds in their black shirts with whatever band they are worshiping at the moment. The event volunteers overwhelmed by the lack of english speaking people in this very American crowd.

“THE ISLAND IS FILLED TO CAPACITY. PLEASE LEAVE. THANK YOU…”

No one is getting the message. The look on these people faces go from “how is an island packed?” to “whatever, I’ll just wait”. The confusion is blowing in the wind like the garbage decorating the Staten Island Ferry’s floor. I refuse to take no for an answer, regardless if I’m no. 2345 in line. I grab my girlfriend by the hand and rush her to the outer part of this fiasco as the police are now forming for a much-needed crowd control. We jet to this small crowd of people patiently yet eagerly waiting on the gated entrance of the pier. The large archway faces the last boat for the Converse Presents Gone To Governor concert series. I scan the white t-shirted volunteers looking for a familiar face, someone to grant me access to the ferry that would take me to see the latest “it” band Yeasayer, to no avail. I swear there’s a new band every 5 minutes, they can’t make trading cards fast enough to keep track of them. But, whatever, it’s Saturday and I’m in a long-term relationship… Do you know how hard it is to come up with date activities every weekend?!

Brutal.

“Sorry VIP’s only”

“IF YOU KEEP CROWDING THE GATE NO ONE’S GETTING IN.”

The scene reminds me of newsreel footage of when people are trading on Wall Street. Everyone is crowding around this tiny girl hiding behind a clipboard like she’s giving out Google stocks for free. Instead of stock tickets it’s a bunch of Casio watches and yesterdays concert wristbands. Some of those neon bands are pretty fresh making me wonder if these people ever shower? Security is now running to this poor girls aid. The brute force these people display raises the question of why would you take a job where you hate the people there? Some black ex con from East New York Queens is not going to understand Timmy Bandlover from Ohio no matter how much MTV he watches. People are being grabbed and pushed. Hands are being separated from their plus ones and everyone’s shouting for someone to get them in. I think we were more organized when we helicoptered out of Veitnam.

That’s when I seize the moment. I send my girlfriend to saddle up behind the poor, swamped girl. She looks over her drained shoulder.

Oldest trick in the book.

“Hi, I’m on the list. Zack, Zack Sang…”

“Walk right in”

Really? No ID? Just like that? I mean I don’t even look chinese when I’m stoned. Fine. Zack Sang and his plus 1 continue to have the best night ever. It was a pity that Zack’s camera battery died or you would be seeing more pictures of the show. Instead Zack dances with his Irish Italian princess in VIP while the Indian front man electrifies the crowd with his slum dog crooning. Zack is now trading wits with May Kwok and Steven Rojas, two people who must have the most desired email address in the world. The only thing  more amazing than the show was the view of downtown New York City. The breeze is like the cools side of a pillow in an air conditioned room after a hot day on the corner. The french fries, burger and beer all taste like summer. Zack is now killing it.

After the show he ferries back to Brooklyn where it’s whiskey at The Woods, Shots with Chris Hires at Good Company, then everything else at The Shank. By 8am Zack as indulged in everything but the kitchen sink. His conversations are now word gurgles and his kisses are now open mouth “let’s make a baby” marathons. He can no longer be in public for his sunglasses can only hide so much of the sun. The BQE guides him home, and he collapses into a South Side Williamsburg apartment that may very well needs a once over. Ah Zack, your night was legendary.

“There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless.”  Simone De Beauvoir

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