my giggle is my wiggle

last night i went to see an animated documentary about the massacre at sabra and shatila. it feels odd to say that it was amazing, so instead i'll say it was fantastic. the animation explosive. the story--it is something of a documentary, something of a search for memory, so things are not so neatly wrapped.

then i met a friend, a documentary film maker, at a singles event in chelsea, a neighborhood into which i rarely venture. it was her suggestion and a good one at that. across the street was a club called duvet.

oh. the heart breaks.

i await the opening of potpourri.

in this story i am going to call my friend, who is originally from another country, merika.

in the club where we went we were assaulted by a deejay playing hip hop that was popular when i was in college. omg, treach! frequently, the deejay would scream into his mic, 'is everybody drinkin?' or 'are my ladies in the house?' or 'throw your hands in the air.' it felt like a cartoon. a really loud one that you'd like to mute, but sadly, your remote has gone missing.

a guy came over to us to introduce himself. he was one of the promoters. he asked us if we were having a good time. we had just arrived. he introduced us to some other people, we all shook hands. not two minutes later, the same promoter came over to us again, beer still in hand, and asked merika and me the same questions, same intonation, same random introduction to people standing nearby.

there were a few attractive men there. there were a lot of attractive women. there was one particular man, not so attractive. to me he looked like a cross between rodney dangerfield and fred thompson. he was really tall and rather portly. he was at least 55. he was in a suit, no tie. i said something to merika about not particularly wanting to talk to him.

guess what happens next?

never put into the universe what you don't want to occur.

friend was a metronorth train operator, former stand up comedian. they asked us what we did professionally. then, fred/rodney asked us to guess what he did. he said,

'i'm going to give you a hint.'

we were rapt.

'i remove your shorts for a living.'

um. er. stumped.

'i'm an electrician.' ba da bing!

dopey. but also good-natured. almost funny it its stupidity. i laughed. but not with malice. i feel i am failing in conveying the ludicrousness of the evening. fred/rodney told merika she looked like a famous french actress. once he said it, i had to agree. he couldn't remember who. i suggested anouk aimee. he couldn't hear me over the howls of the deejay urging us to 'drink more and get freaky on the dance floor.' some people did.

the electrician offered to buy us another round. we had already had two glasses of wine. we accepted. by then the metronorth conductor left for other game. i think we were insufficiently blond. trouble with accepting another glass of wine was it then you got to span more time chatting. he asked us our names. merika told him. he couldn't really understand her. he called her medika. she let it go. every time. finally, we escaped to the wc. some girls were chatting there, drunken cats. i felt like i was at high school prom when liz chinian came into the bathroom to gussy herself up. i was never friends really with that girl.

anyway, we went back out. and fred/rodney came right over. there was a rare, good song. we all shimmied a little. i would rather fred/rodney had not tried to shimmy. he talked about pretending to carry a gun when he works in rough neighborhoods. he advised we do the same when we are walking alone late at night. he gave merika his number but then said, 'now medika, what's yours?' he asked for mine too. we both said it is not customary for a lady to give out her number. (don't call us, we'll call you). he asked merika, 'when are you going to call me?' and 'you're going to call me, right.'

i said he shouldn't ask that. it's a lot of pressure, especially when the likelihood is no call.

somewhere over the course of this thing merika told me about a book on dating that likened it to fishing. you got to use bait, you see. and then wiggle your bait. i thought she said giggle, that you got to giggle your bait.

'in your case, maybe your giggle is your wiggle,' she noted.