(Triptych of the East River Impromptu Bonfire in Williamsburg, August 14, 2003, by Sarah Balcomb. Click to enlarge.)
So, the totally not surprising rumor is there could be another blackout tonight. I know, there probably won't be, but the blackout of '03 was one of the best nights of my life (and probably yours, too.)
So now I'm all nostalgic and achey and wistful and full of longing all of a sudden, so I've dug up some Blackout-related stuff from the old version of this website. (You know, before I was seduced and corrupted by the glamorous-yet-ultimately-empty blogging scene.)
After the blackout, I asked some of my friends for their own blackout stories and photos, which can be found here (and are still awesome.)
I also wrote up my own blackout story for Knot Magazine three days later. Reading it for the first time in three years, I wince at how bad it is (A "subtle" 9/11 reference in the first sentence? Oh, Lindsay of '03, I just wanna muss your already-messy hair.)
But there it is, in all its sentimental, style-less glory, and it represents a much more idealistic time in my life that I would kill to get back, so there.
But don't click, here's the gist:
* Sarah Balcomb and I rode our bikes around darkened Williamsburg with backpacks full of cheap cabernet that we shared with everyone we encountered.
* At one point I stripped and did a Lady-Godiva-on-a-bike-but-with-short-hair thing for like thirty terrifying seconds in the middle of McCarren Park. (Future games of "I Never" would benefit.)
*A guy stole Sarah's bike from its kickstand-spot five feet away from us, and was not deterred by Sarah's thrown shoe or my expletives.
*Before we left the bonfire, we waded into the East River to properly send off our melodramatic message-in-a-bottle: "It is the night of the Blackout, and we are drunk..."
* Then we wandered from Williamsburg bar to Williamsburg bar with an ever-growing group of people whose faces we never properly saw, until we stumbled home at dawn.
In short: best.night.ever.
(I'm allowed to navel-gaze four times per year, okay? It's in the rules.)