Lucia and Pia walk up Lafayette Street and can't even do that without one of us getting into trouble
Today’s my birthday, and I don’t know how old I am! So don’t ask. Thanks Sally for reminding me that I have one.
Thought that I was sheltering Lucia by not talking about our younger days; you know the usual, nights and days where we would do whole football teams in a…kidding; we did whole rock groups, oh no that was me and…that’s a joke, maybe….Really. For the record, I was…let me stop before I dig myself into holes I can’t work myself out of.
In a very weird mood; thought that I was adjusting to the mold farm in my mind, and yes Trine, you were the first to call me “moldy” though probably not the last.
Lucia left a comment on my post about Rafe that made me realize she really really wants to be talked about. GAWD. Fortunately for Lucia’s pristine reputation, the only person I’m ever hard on or make fun of is me, because it’s just so darn easy.
Sometime in the late 1980′s Lucia, Noel (a male friend who no longer lives in New York, and yes he’s gay) and I were walking up Lafayette Street, in Nolita, a section of Manhattan that was called Noho then. Nolita stands for north of Little Italy, and Noho for north of Houston. We were walking on the east side of the street where there’s a fire station.
We had just left the architectural studio and store that Lucia managed and was the scene of many parties, and occasionally ended up sleeping there when we were too wasted to make it home. It had a shower, bath and almost all the amenities of home except for a bed, but did have a huge table that we would have to clear the dust off, in order to sleep, but, uh most times, we would forget that step.
This is mostly extraneous to the story I’m telling, but good background, for something. We were young and hot though we were the last two to believe that part. Don’t know why; enough people told us, wanted to know us, or marry us. Lucia was a four by 40 girl. This story takes place before the fourth marriage. I was a Maid (or Matron) of Honor more than most women; and I’m only counting Lucia’s weddings. She used to compare herself to Elizabeth Taylor:
“I believe in marrying them, not living with them.”
I’m more the let’s live together, not get married type.
Okay, now that’s out of the way, are there any other deep dark secrets that I can waste time saying: I once voted for a Republican for president; that’s about it. Oh no am I becoming prudish on my birthday? Can’t happen; no I won’t allow that. Here it goes:
It was a hot June night. Not hot as in oppressive, I want to die weather like today, but hot enough. In New York, the hottest part of the day is always dusk when the heat’s had time to settle on the cement, and the buildings seem to ooze both heat and drops of hot water from the air conditioners. The steam rises both from the street, and subway gratings, and it can feel as if you’re trapped in a manhole cover or a pot of not quite boiling water. One thing you learn in New York early and never forget: heat rises.
I was wearing a blue with little pink and yellow flowers bustier dress; the skirt flowed like a Marilyn dress. Here comes the big confession: sometimes when I would a dress like that I wouldn’t wear underwear. But, and this is a big but, I had a two piece bathing suit that almost exactly matched the dress; only the flowers were a bit larger. That morning in a burst of clothing creativity, I decided to wear the bottom as underwear. To make the dress work appropriate I had worn a blue silk fitted jacket that I had left at the studio.
Noel was walking to my right, and Lucia to my right. The subway grating was right underneath me. The fire station bells began ringing as it did whenever notable people passed it. I couldn’t understand why suddenly Lucia and Noel were trying to tame my dress that was whirling with the blast of hot air from the subway. Their faces had turned bright red, and not from the heat.
Something made me turn around, and face three very well dressed men who were trying not to smile. Two of the men were young, very good looking; “bodyguards,” I thought before my brain had time to register exactly who they were guarding. Or maybe I really didn’t want to realize this. I thought of something clever to say, but before I could say it I began laughing. Real laughter; not girly giggles or shameful bursts of restrained laughter that turns into coughing fits. I knew that as long as I lived I would never forget this meeting. But I just couldn’t stop laughing; the six of us were standing on Lafayette Street, laughing until tears came.
And that’s how I met the man for whom the bells were tolling; the boss of bosses himself, John Gotti, shortly before he went to prison.
If Lucia comments, and she will, do not believe her version. I wasn’t just wearing underpants, I was wearing a shield of armor, a belly covering bathing suit bottom.
No I don’t approve of him or anything he did. Just getting that out of the way. But it’s a hell of a story.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PIA! (did you get my greetings in norwegian in the other post?)
i can’t wait for Lucia’s version now, which I am sure compliments yours nicely!
I used to wear biniki bottoms if i ran out of underwear and have, on occasion, gone out without them altogether….
Happy birthday!! Enjoy the weather…
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! WOWEE! WHAT are you doing today? Go out and step away from the computer!!
Now you met John Gotti but what did he say to you? Did he smile at you? Give a wave? Did he ask you to hold his gun?
I send a cyber gift of round tea bags your way!!
Happy Birthday, Pia!!! Hope you have a really good day!!!
LOLOLOLOLOL!!!!!
I can’t believe you told this story! Shameless hussy you!
I’m at work now, but I will definitely tell it like it REALLY was….stay tuned.
HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUDDY!
Haha, awesome story! Happy birthday!!!!!!!!!!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Happy birthday!!
Happy Birthday!
See, it’s stories like this that make me want to move to NYC.
Happy Birthday! I keep trying to forget how old I am, but people keep reminding me.
Some of my favorite parts of your writing are the descriptions of the city. For those of us who can’t be there, or at least for me, it helps somehow.
Have a wonderful birthday.
Happy Birthday
Come in before the buildings soak up too much heat.
The streets will be filled with sexual tension tonight due to the heat. lol
At least it was a coordinated ensemble, underwear and all.
Happy Birthday Pia, hope your day is wonderful.
Happy Birthday, Pia. Beautifully told.
Yes, it’s a very good story. I used to love to go to Little Italy to eat when I lived in NJ. Never met any Mafioso that I would recognize, though.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Have you been to Tao? That’s a great place to eat on your special day. Whenever I’d come up for vacation, we’d have a few drinks at the Italian restaurant across the street. Little bar. Then we’d go there to eat.
Good story… I don’t think I would classify this as ‘shameless’ though. Maybe free spirited is a better word.
Happy Birthday Pia–my blogging friend!
And the comment above is right, Tao, is a great restaurant.
Also my fab mom has a John Gotti story, he sent over a drink for her at some city bar and my mom’s girlfriend practically tore my mother’s arm off getting her out of the place real fast, lol.
Happy Happy Birthday! Make it a good one.
L’chaim!
happy birthday, birthday girl!
Boy, I was right there with you on that sidewalk, fire bell ringing, laughter & all! You’ve got such a great way of telling stories.
I hope you have a wonderful day & a fantastic year!
Happy Birthday! Just passing by surfing but just thought it would be nice to greet a co-blogger a happy birthday.
That’s an awesome story, thanks for sharing it with us! Great post! Have an excellent and most memorable birthday.
Happiest Birthday Possible.
29, right?
Happy Birthday! I’m a ‘cancer’ victim too, and if interested in watching my generic ‘cancer’ horoscope, you can bookmark my other blog … http://HART-oscope.blogspot.com .. I actually paid a little $$$ to subscribe for a full year from July 1/05 to June 30/06, so feel free to add the RSS feed or stop by.
PS> No comment on your story, you write nice and I always take the time to read stuff while I’m here blogexplosion’ing.
HART
Pia,
Happy birthday!!! I can’t believe it, but you are born on my sons birthday, and his ex (the mother of his baby) and his current wife. They were all born on July 19. Now is that weird or what? I cried all day yesterday because he would be spending his birthday in Baghdad today and his wife would be without him. Anyway, sorry for rambling, but I just thought it was wild to find yet another person with that birthday. What a special day.
Awwww … sorry I missed your bday. You’ll have to accept a belated wish for a generally faboo rest of the summer. Happy 21st! (wink)