Steam heat and Bitter cold wind....
A night spent on the infamous frying pan, You would have to see it to believe it. There we stood drinking vodka and cranberry and anything bottled amongst the hulls of weathered steel, cast iron, and corroded cables of electrical wire. The steam from the old heater mixed in the air with cigarrette smoke as the ship rocked side to side in the wake of the NY waterway ferries. Clearly this was the reason why tetanus shots were created.

The wind whipped outside the portholes, a reminder that the temperature beyond the cast iron was so frigid that a witch would cringe with pain. There were strung lines of lights in addition to the bare bulbs that lit the vessel. It was hard to see, anything, which may have been for the better. A randomly thrown sofa chair looked so out of place next to the anchor room that stood austere but empty due to its lack of steam heater. I wandered around the enormous anchor and imagined the noise this machine made at its most active. The cast iron was so cold and lifeless as I ran my hand along side the rounded edges it was hard to imagine all the time that had passed since it's inception, and here it sat, lifeless. A pile of rope lay in the corner next to the sofa chair; I could not help but realize that it had to be some vermin’s home.

The bathrooms while equipped with stalls and a sink, failed to function after three hours. I was relieved however by the dimly lit exit sign at the stern of the boat which immediately put me at ease when certainly I was self medicated by the overwhelming feeling of being trapped in a low ceiling maze of narrow hallways with exposed wires, low lit rooms and heavy steel doors with rusty locks. The fact that a car ride, ferry trip across the Hudson and a ride in a cab didn't make me feel trapped enough. On the lighter side, if I had to get out I could, and lord knows there was plenty of options for my planned escape once beyond the deck and docks. If only I could see the doorway.

Instead I giggled to myself as the dj, while I owe him a drink, despite my pleas to make him stop, played the most dreadful music. I was forced once again to watch Alan slither around the vessel like an eel, trying to gain anyones attention. While a part of smiles when I see him, it is not like I can really deal with him on a serious level, it's all fun and games. I interupt him when he is talking to other women and make like I am heartbroken by his betrayal, I see it mostly as a good deed to a fellow lady. Certiainly I think to myself that they can't be serious about stroking his ego. J on the other hand, I find rather intriguing, since the first time I met him in October, while his face, as well as mine, were covered in halloween makeup, it was ok that our eyes were glued to each other. I was in no postion at that time to pursue my interest in him, as my devotion was first and foremost in my mind. Nowadays, that is not the case and while it might have been ok to see where my self persuasion led me, I couldn't help but feel like it was too much work on my part. Effort that I simply don't have the energy for.

So all in all, the frying pan was fun, dirty in many aspects but fun. I decided that the list of emails and phone numbers I collected could make for a nice collage in my newly acquired sketchbook and while I would not want to jeaprodize the privacy of anyone, I might be able to actually hide the identies of those whose real names may have been relieved...