It’s Fun To Stay At The….

Hey, wait a second. Where? At the “Y”? That’s right, The Young Men’s Christian Association, The YMCA after 166 years will be henceforth known as the Y, adopting the nickname it has been known as for generations.

They’re making this change in an attempt to be warmer, more genuine and more welcoming and according to Neil Nicoll, president and chief executive of the organization, it’s a simpler way to tell the story of what they do. But not everyone is happy with this change. For instance, The Village People. The group is disappointed and “deeply dismayed” that the non-profit group made this decision. So, in lieu of having to rechoreograph the wildly iconic wedding staple, they vow…VOW, mind you, they will continue to perform the song using all four letters in their concerts.

  

You know, Ariel and I partied with the Village People once. True. And it cost Ariel an unwitting whopping four hundred dollars. Way back when we both had hair, they were performing at a club in Hoboken that is probably closed now. It started to attract a bad crowd and the once fun place became a chore to endure for a few hours of dancing and drinking pleasure. Ah, what the hell, even unsavory people need a place to go. So there they were, the entire “original” group of Village People up on the stage; David Hodo (the construction worker), Glenn Hughes (the leatherman), Felipe Rose (the indian), Alex Briley (the army guy), Randy Jones (the cowboy) and Ray Simpson (the lead singer cop…okay, not original–Victor Willis was the original) and we edged our way right up to the front of the crowd and were moshing around with the best of ‘em. When the show ended, they each thanked us for our energy.  Of course, it being the early ’90’s, we were among a probable handful who remembered the Village People from the beginning and knew the words to all their songs.

It was the end of the night and we were in the Jeep, ready to leave when Felipe came running up to us inviting us back to his Jersey City apartment for a party he was throwing. We went and it was just him and his circle of friends, none of the other ‘people’ were there.

Framed gold records rested on the floor against the brick wall of his living room and we parked ourselves with drinks on the sofa. We introduced ourselves to many nameless people and made small talk as best we could with people we really had no business being with. After about an hour, we slipped out the door with an unheard thank you (it’s always good to be polite) and we went home.

Ariel discovered his wallet was missing. However it happened, whether someone pickpocketed him at the party, or it slipped out of his pocket on the overstuffed sofa, but someone racked up over $400 in flowers from some florist and a few other sundry items and he had the card canceled, but also had to get new everything that was in there. And that was our short-lived foray into groupiedom.

I got no guesses on yesterday’s bathing suit so I’ll wait and reveal who it was tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, my Bonomo order from Amazon has shipped!

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