i missed the bands (and caught a miracle)
I've been to a lot of shows, both as an attendee and a performer. At this point, I’ve picked up a lot of tricks to navigate going places by myself. That said, I don't recommend going to shows alone. I never go out without my hammer—that should give you an idea of how seasoned I am. New York is a crazy place. I love it, and I hate it. It’s the perfect place if you're tired of hiding from yourself.
There was a show last night at the Wash, a skatepark under a bridge on the highway. I've heard more about the Wash than I've actually been. The last time I went, I saw a guy shoot up in the bowl. That’s just a slow Friday at the Wash. I’m the fairy at the gig. Lately, I’ve been writing about everything happening at shows. I love documenting the bands and the people I meet. I used to get on the floor and paint at raves, high out of my mind. It doesn’t matter where I am—I’m having my own fun, doing whatever I want.
I met a lot of beautiful girls. I learned tagging from a tall blonde with a thigh tattoo. She lent me her paint markers, showed me her tag, and helped me come up with my own. It still needs practice, but the timing is perfect since I’ve been wanting to start tagging for my website. If you bring spray paint and markers to a party, you're the backbone of society—an angel—and I’ll be loyal to you forever. I also had a great conversation with a girl dressed as a jester. She was a Scorpio, and we hit it off. If you're reading this, Jester Girl, thanks for offering to leave with me at the end of the show. I bet you dominated the mosh pit.
The energy was high, and I was ready for the music to start. People were rolling in, and I was getting excited. Then Jester Girl asked for my phone number, and I realized: I didn’t have my phone. Here I was, at one of the roughest venues in the city, without my phone. Panic set in fast. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play this game tonight. I had arrived by car, so I didn’t know where the nearest train station was, and I couldn’t call for a ride. I had to decide: Should I try to get home or stick around and risk it? If I wasn’t alone, I would’ve definitely stayed. But something felt off, and I knew I should go.
My brain immediately went into problem-solving mode. The thing about the Wash is that there are always crackheads near the exit. I remembered it from the last time, and it was happening again. I needed someone to walk me out, but the show hadn’t even started yet. Who was going to leave when the party was just beginning? I asked a few people, but no one was interested. The weed wasn’t helping either, and I was getting more paranoid. I started thinking about the gunshot I heard the last time I was there and how I was two hours away from home by train. Imagine my relief when I found a group of teen girls willing to walk me halfway. More emo angels.
Once I got to the bridge, I was trying to figure out my next move. I peeled off my SFX makeup and piercings to look less intimidating, forgetting they were even there at first. While I was picking at my face, a car sped by and crashed into four others. I stood there, without a phone or a plan, watching someone completely wreck three random cars. I was captivated and terrified.
I headed toward the busiest-looking streets. The last thing I wanted was to distance myself from civilization. Besides, dense streets usually mean subway stops. But I couldn’t find a single friendly storefront. Everything was either closing or looked sketchy. I started freaking out a little. I didn’t even care about finding a solution anymore—I just wanted something familiar. Home was the goal, but a small Spanish grocery store was a good consolation prize. I walked in and realized how high I was. I’m a lightweight, and my tolerance was at rock bottom. I thought about getting downers, but then I found my emergency phone book in my bag. Relief hit me, but only briefly—none of my family’s new numbers were in it. The situation was getting darker.
I went to the butcher’s counter and had to figure out how to ask if I could borrow a phone in Spanish. I called everyone I knew—everyone, even my ex. That’s how desperate I was. But no one picked up. I started crying, and the guys behind the counter could tell something was really wrong. We couldn’t understand each other, but we tried. Eventually, I got the message across when the tears came. "Mom. Dad. Home." They understood immediately. A female cashier who spoke a little more English came over to help. They checked the Uber fare, but they couldn’t afford it, and I only had cash. At one point, they suggested I go to the police, but that scared me even more. I asked where the nearest subway was, and thankfully, I knew the system like the back of my hand. If I could get to the train, I knew I’d make it home alive. They smiled, and one of the men walked me to the nearest One train.
He watched as I hopped the turnstile, and I thanked him with the biggest smile on my face. I got on the first train and let the adrenaline do its thing. After that rush, there’s this cool, blooming sensation. You feel elevated, flying, and crystal clear. I sat there, watching the people around me as a deep sense of gratitude washed over me. I was thankful for everyone, for God, and for myself. I was proud, too. I had found myself in a bad situation and managed to get out. It was awesome to witness, even if I wasn’t calm. It made me wonder why I worry so much—I’m smarter than I give myself credit for. And I take for granted the deep love God has for me. Everything fell into place to get me safely onto that train. Somehow, I concluded that by going off the rails, the night had gone perfectly. I sat there and journaled like nothing happened.
I don’t think people should imitate my life. I’ve got a dark streak I’m a little too comfortable with, but I do think it’s important to remember that we can and will get through our problems. I genuinely believed if I didn't go home early, I would have still gotten through it fine. A part of me regrets not trusting myself to do it, but another part of me is happy to have the reference of me saving myself.You don’t need to understand every little thing that happens—sometimes you need to trust your instincts and let them guide you. Trust in your safety and your mission. Save yourself the time and recognize the safety within yourself, exactly as you are.
