Filed under: Food and Drink, movies, Tragedy | Tags: girls, irks, sissy's, Williamsburg
I have to admit that I have a problem with Williamsburg. It stems back to the preconceived notions and stereotypes of the people there that my big sister instilled in my 12 year-old self. “The neighborhood was gentrified by a bunch of artists who pushed out the Puerto Ricans, Beacon’s Closet and Salvation Army are usually picked-over by hipsters, and most of the boutiques there are owned by Trust Funded kids’ parents.”
Whatever. For awhile, those things didn’t keep me from thinking that Williamsburg was a cool place to go to for a few hours to get vintage duds or Polish diner food. Nowadays, I live along the L train and find myself stopping by there more often.
Like I said I was going to, I went to McCarren Pool for WHAS. I was in this crowd
I didn’t have a blanket, so I was sitting on concrete. Plus I got there around 7:30, so I was sitting for an extra long time. Anyway, it may have been because I’d been awake since seven in the morning working and running around, and it may have been since I’m in this weird transitional/frustrated rut right now. BUT! But, I decided that the reason why I get so irked when I set foot on Bedford Avenue is because it reminds me of High School. It’s the High School where all the rich white kids who could afford good weed and beers other than Keystone Light congregated under the transparent financial wing of their parents. Most of the kids there are wearing clothes that appear to be from a flea market but are probably from Urban Outfitters, they’re smoking cigarettes, have cool tattoos, and for the most part seem really carefree.
Do I just need some lexapro or something? While I was sitting in this crowd of transplanted suburbia, I was dehydrated, tired, and I wasn’t talking to Scott. I kept doing the annoying girl thing where I complained about how thirsty I was, but when he offered to get me something I said “Eh, maybe later.” Sometimes I open my mouth to complain for the sake of complaining when I’m not in a good mood. It sucks. (Later on he went to get water and came back with these free Starbucks Coffee/energy drinks in tall-boy form).
As we waited for sundown, people zig-zagged around us, stepping in front of us, between us, and behind us. I got really sick of the disregard for my bag and my face, which came really close to being stepped on a few times, that I tried to rearrange myself so no one could get through. Nothing worked, and I finally said “Fuck it” in light of my defeat. I guess my annoyance provoked Scott to yell “Go back to Jersey!” to a group of happy picnickers that were being rowdy.
I couldn’t really focus on the movie and ended up staring at the entrance to the pool or into the windows of the massive condos. The more I thought about how unhappy I was there, the more I realized I was just a jealous brat about it all. I wished I had brought a picnic and a blanket with me. I wished I wasn’t looking so un-trendy in my boot-cut jeans, long socks, black converses, and white blouse (which for all intents and purposes could’ve looked great paired with other leg and footwear). And I wished I wasn’t so unhappy. Up until I got off the train earlier in the evening and started off in the wrong direction — where I proceeded to stumble on uneven sidewalk and hear some people laugh, hence the High School parallel — I had been pretty excited to be out.
Whatever the matter, I decided that I have to be really excited and really prepared for whatever event I’m going to. For example: last year the crowd at Daft Punk sucked. Majorly. I was bumping hips and elbows with people I wouldn’t even want to shake hands with. It was hot, and people were sticky. I complained a little because it felt like we were all in the midst of heat stroke, but I had a blast because I’d built the last 4 months of my life around going to this concert. And come on. ROBOTS. Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest is another contender (ha). It officially sounds like I’m trying to highlight my victories, but it looks like I’m self-conscious about my bad moods at events, and I need some kind of assurance that I won’t be that way forever.
And whatever the next major event will be: A dance party at PS1, The Yard, She & Him, a bar, I’ll have to remember not to be such a freak so I can stop feeling like an old lady shaking her fist at today’s youth.