How I met Michael Alig at the Rhombus Room in Manhattan, New York City
I don’t even know if I should publish this. I have to get some coffee first.
I’m going to walk to Variety Coffee and grab some $2 dollar French press coffees and ask for an additional cup to pour myself a full cup of Battenkill Creamery cream, the best cream in all of New York State.
Give me a few hours. It’s coming.
When I was in my late teens, I always expected to be married by 27 years old, have a few kids, a loving wife who prepares delicious and healthy meals, and be working as a full-time writer/reporter journalist, and writing my novel on the side.
Well, I did finish that novel, but the wife and the children did not happen. Yet. Maybe it will happen. But, at this point, with my current lifestyle and situations that I am involved in, it is not likely to happen. Living in New York City is turning me into a player, but that’s a different blog post for a different time. That will be coming as well.
Okay, I will be return, begin banging this out on the laptop keys before me, uploading the photos, then downloading the photos, attaching a video link.
A sigh, the size of a hot air balloon rapidly deflating, escapes my lips.
I did not get the coffee. Yet. I’m going to write this first.
Watching a YouTube video
Earlier yesterday afternoon, I was writing out a blog post and uploading photos while at the same time watching a YouTube video. This video, telling the story of Michael Alig, a club promoter, who murdered fellow club kid, Angel Melendez.
Later that afternoon, my loft mate, a German artist, Bernd Neighbor, invites me to a party at the Rhombus Room in Lower East Side (LES), Manhattan. It’s a party to celebrate the end of the parole for Michael Alig, a famous club promoter from years ago, Bernd says.
“Wait a second,” I ask Bernd. “The same Michael Alig that murdered that guy?”
“He spent a lot of time in jail for that. He’s been released. I know him because I used to date his girlfriend.” Bernd says.
“Hmmm. I’ll think about it,” I said.
Who is Michael Alig?
Just who is this club promoter turned guy who killed someone?
Party at the Rhombus Room
I ended up going to the party. The deejay was fantastic. The music was house. I was dancing. Soon after we arrive, Bernd is greeted by a lot of friends and they bring him, and me, to meet this petite guy with black hair and chunky glasses, who’s surrounded by people touching him and photographing him. It’s Michael Alig.
Bernd greets him with a smile and a close handshake, introduces me, and I shake his hand. He looks at me, smiles, looks at Bernd and says in a whiny tone: “Who’s your cute friend?”
“He’s Kris. He’s an artist and a writer.” Bernd yells above the music.
“Are you gay?” Michael shouts.
“No.” I say.
“That’s too bad.” He says.
Michael disappears among the parasitic crowd of hanger-on’ers and is scurried away like a football-huddle toward the lounge area.
Dancing and Girls
The music was fantastic. I danced and danced and danced.
I see this beautiful, pale, blonde girl, take her by the hand and give her a twirl. I lead her on the dance floor for a few moments. I pull her in close. She looks at me with her big beautiful blue-green eyes, a scintillating puddle of brilliant hues, and asks: “You got any coke?”
“No.” I say.
“I want coke,” she says.
“I’m sure someone here as it.” I say.
And she disappears, wobbling and bouncing through the crowd on her quest for the powder.
I continue dancing and enter a trio of girls. I dance with them. One girl, a pale beauty, I pull in close, putting her hands on the small of my back. I put my hands on the small of her back and lean in. We dance some more. And I begin kissing her. We make out. I don’t even know her name.
We unglue ourselves, dance some more with her friends. I pull her in close again and she looks at me. I go in for the kiss again and she pulls away.
“You have any coke?” She asks.
“Just make out with me. It’s better than coke.” I quip.
“I’d fuck you if you had coke.” She says.
(At this point, time stops. I pull out my secret pouch of tea, “50 Shades of Earl Grey” tea. We walk to the lounge area, sip tea, make out, and discuss the common themes of Russian writers.)
Palm Beach looking man
I continue dancing. I meet a rich-looking guy who’s talking to the same trio of girls I’d been dancing with earlier. This guy looks like he’s from Palm Beach, Florida. He’s in a pin-stripe collar shirt, blue blazer, and even wears a beach style Fedora. A classic Palm Beach look. He’s chatting up the girls, talking about some venue he wants to do. They are looking at him with eager eyes. Maybe they just want coke? Who knows.
He introduces me to them and they send me Facebook friend requests. I pull some cards from a photographer and a real estate investor. I meet another photographer who’s also making a movie that Michael Alig is in. Apparently, it’s a vampire movie.
Walking to the train
Sometime around 3am, I say goodbye to my new acquaintances, then walk to the train station.
On the way there, I passed Christmas Trees stacked upright on the sidewalk. A lovely sight reminding me that there are far more important things than partying and making out with cute girls who are usually complete strangers.
I hustle downstairs, jump over a sleeping homeless guy, and miss the uptown bound F train by seconds. I return up another set of stairs, walk uptown to 14th Street and 3rd Avenue, wait for the L train, and walk up toward the front of the station, as the front car is closest to my stop. The train arrives and I see Bernd Naber sitting in the train.
I enter the train. We talk. The train arrives to Jefferson Avenue L. I walk home to the loft.
For more articles and blog posts that are usually not like this one, check out my website at KrisKemp.com
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