Last night in New York

Our last night in NYC, Dasher tells me that we have to attend a movie premier of a film he’s in that he shot over last summer. we hop a cab and head to the club. But first he wants to get out and grab some cigars. Then we hit a pizza stand at 55th and seventh I think. I look up and we’re standing right in front of Madison square fucking Garden. i take a bite of my pizza. “God its fucking cold here man.” “this isn't cold man. You should’ve been here in the winter. That was cold.” “Well that's probably true, but I'm still cold now. Dude I want to play Madison square Garden.” “You will my brother. You will. But now we’re so late. We gotta get a cab.” Dasher is trying to flag a cab down with his right hand with a slice of pizza dangling out of it. a cigarette dangling from his left.

We get to the premier and we get these vip wrist bands. The hostess assumes I am part of the cast of the movie. So she ushers me to this red carpet and puts me in front of this back drop along with Dasher and a few of the other actors. And all these people start taking our photos. I played along as if I were in the movie. The whole night all these people are asking me what part I played. I didn't even know what the film was about. So I just made stuff up. “Yes, uh, actually I play the guy in the hotel scene... you know the one...” That's the thing about us right now. Everyone knows they recognize you, but they just can’t place you yet. They’ve seen you, but aren't sure where. So you tell them you're a famous actor and they think you're a famous actor. I could get away with saying whatever I wanted. Which was fun. Not the whole time. There were a few people who knew who I was so I had to be me, shake hands and all, but for the most part I could be whoever I wanted to be. As we drank more and more free vodka, the stories became more and more insane. After about two hours, Dasher is introducing me as the writer of the film. It was hilarious. “But I recognize you... are you sure you're not an actor?” “O.k. you win. I'm an actor. you got me....” Every one was pitching ideas to me, the writer of the movie. And I was drunk, just trying to maintain my coordination at that point while attempting to look as though I was listening intently to them.

The acting world is so different than the musician’s world. They're all so damn friendly and open with one another. I would hate to be an actor. I talked with a lot of them and their whole world is based on getting auditions so they can get parts. It’s a tough biz. They can’t just pick up a guitar and go get a gig at some local venue or cut an album like we can. They wait and they wait for good parts, any part, and in the meantime they are waiters in restaurants or work in shops. Or the hated dinner theatre or soap opera bits. Its not easy. Dasher went with me to one of my meetings so we could hit dinner afterwards. I was meeting with this company from France about French radio promo for sleep with you. I introduce him and the guy asks him if he is in the band. He says, “No. I'm an actor, which loosely translates to ‘I'm a waiter.’”

The girls and hangers on were plentiful that night. girls love actors almost as much as they love rock stars. Especially if you were an out of work actor with a half full bottle of free vodka and a good story about your last stage play....

Its 3:49 AM now. We’re in the back of a limo driving around the city. I'm sitting in the back seat typing on my trusty beat up laptop. Dasher is in the seat across from me balling some chick we picked up at the premier. He is wasted. We are both wasted. He looks up at me. “You sure you don't want some of this dog?” he asks me, pointing to the girl beneath him. “Dude, no thanks. My wife would kill me.” He swigs from his bottle, looks at the girl beneath him who is just as wasted as we are, and then up at me. “You're not even married Fishy! You're a freak!” he says. “Dude please. Respect my wife man. Please.” “Dude you're such a freak. But I love it!” he says. Looks down at the girl. “Fishy here hasn’t had sex in twenty fucking years because he's saving it for this dream woman of his. Isn't that fucking funny?” he asks her. “I think its romantic,” she slurs and bobs her head over to look at me with this coy smile. ‘Chicks love a married man. The only thing they like more than a married man is a man who isn't married but acts like he is,’ I type. “Fishy seriously man, don't fucking write about this in your fucking diaries man. I know what you're doing right now.” he laughs, “Stop it man.” He looks down at the girl, “Fishy is a writer. He writes down everything he does. If he takes a shit he writes about it...” he laughs. “I thought you were an actor.” the girl slurs with this confused look on her face. “I am. I'm studying how to be a writer for the next part I'm playing. It’s a Matt Damon and Ben Affleck movie. Its going to be big. I have to play a writer.... its like good will hunting part two or something...” I look back to my laptop screen. Dasher starts laughing uncontrollably. “Oh my fucking God Fishy. You’re fucking classic man. How did you land that part man?!” he says, playing along. “Come here and kiss Rita dude. Isn't she pretty?” “Its Rena,” the girl laughs. “My name is Reeeeena.” “Rena you are so beautiful. You know how beautiful you are,” he says to her and they start kissing again. I take a swig from one of the bottles of Sky vodka we confiscated from the premier party. I keep writing. The city lights whiz by us.

Dasher sits up all of a sudden. Its about 4 am now. “God I'm fucking hungry. Fishy are you hungry?” he asks me. “I'm never hungry man. But I'm drunk. So I could eat.” “Lets get Greek food then. Dude I know the best fucking Greek restaurant in New York. C'mon lets go there...” he says. So off we go to this Greek restaurant that just happens to be open, like everything in New York, at 4 in the morning. Lamb chops, mint jelly. Grape leaves. Red wine. Too much red wine. From there it gets kind of hazy. Next thing I know we’re in the limo again. The girl is passed out on the seat across from us. I'm on one side puking out my window. Dasher is on the other side of the limo puking out his window. “Oh my God dude I'm so wasted.” “God man. Me too.” “Isn't New York awesome dude?!” he says between hurls out his window. “Yeah dude. New York is awesome... this is the life.” I'm looking at all the beautiful lights whizzing by with blurry eyes in between throwing up, my head dangling out of the window. “Dude this place is so beautiful.” I woke up the next day about one in the afternoon with a killer headache. Just in time to catch my flight back to Miami....