do it for van jones, baby

she- She’s anxiously clutching her fake pearls, locked into the lower manhattan century 21 dressing room, stress eating stolen Olive garden butter pats, waiting for the manager so that she can complain about the fact that there are no red cashmere cardigans in her size, reluctant to purchase a blue one. Yet through it all, she is swiping right on any age appropriate white guy in her feed. Looking for a match, maybe, a temporary distraction from the bigger task at hand. Maybe dinner and an elevator grope. Maybe more. After all, there is a king sized bed and two fluffy robes. Heck, after all this in the last two weeks , maybe room service is the call. Are restaurants open? Is there room service? Do they have French fries? She needs to find someone that is Covid compliant, and covid free. Not that she believes in the kung flu, but she doesn’t want to get sick, nor does she want to get her Pomeranians or parakeets sick. Can you get the kung flu from a p arakeet? Yes , she cant get sick, she might not have health insurance come January. She swipes onwards, highlighting the fact that she’s traveling and staying in a sweet lower manhattan hotel room with a view of the 9/11 memorial. Somewhere someone will break shelter in place rule, to have a different kind of thanksgiving. God willing.

 He- Sitting in the bathroom of his ramshackle apartment, alone for the holiday week, and another childfree week thereafter. No time like the present to pursue a quarantine dream. Back on tinder after an 18 month break. The last time out , catfished by someone old enough to be his parent , and listed at 55. That restaurant had no back door , and she sat facing the door. An 8 year freak show, of catfish and lonely hearts. 8 years of back alley exits and bar stool disappointments. But hey, the promise of a new administration might bring new hope. Likely not, but hey. He has opened a new account, new photo and new profile. Uncle Fester /Anti fascist, and a picture of himself with a freshly shorn skull wearing a pair of size 18 leopard skin panties that he modified into covid compliant face protection. Maybe someone will see some humor here. Swiping in a pandemic and post election coup as a miserable and misanthropic unemployed middle aged miscreant is about as fruitful as applying for a job in a different field after 20 years dedicated to a profession that no longer exists. He needs someone with an imagination and sense of humor. But he is only swiping right on square suburban librarian looking types- the duck faced and yoga nazi types that are so pervasive in this milieu are a nonstarter. He is not even stopping to see if there are any mask free photos inside. He is speed swiping. Maybe there is someone covid compliant and alone for the holidays. Someone , like him, a little down, yet up for some type of end of the world adventure. What is there to lose?

 MATCH- BINGO 

 She- Well there ya go. Finally, she thought that her photo was cute. Freshly coiffed, new frames and a fresh facial for her meetings with tv and book agents this week. Eyes aglow, as she had just touched herself watching Bad Santa on tnt before snapping the photo. Her profile simple- Murphy/beltway and beyond/ looking for a little light in dark times. But here was her first match, her only match today since booting up here. And what of it- who is this weirdo uncle fester looking fella in a devo helmet. But that mask, so much better than some of these other jokers with their knicks and rangers masks. His mask looked like the panties that she had shoved in the secret compartment of her purse, to go with the teddy she’d gotten as a gift from the senator last week. Why hadn’t he called again? 

 He- Shit, a match, before he has even flushed. That never happens unless I swipe right on everyone. Blonde, age appropriate, wry smile, slick frames. Clearly not a cross fit kook or yoga nazi. And an out of towner to boot. It/s like the gatekeepers trifecta. As he is about to finish his business…..

 Blurp-

 She- hi 

He- how/s life? 

She- complicated. Um, I am visiting for the week. You?

 He- nice. What doing?

 She- (sweating) looking for advdenture. Wanna meet for a drink or something?

 He- (fast acting, but hey, he hasn’t really been out of the house for a few days- what a walk around the block with a stranger). Um sure, why not. You move fast. Where are you? 

She – i/m usually very indecisive, but new city, new beginnings. i/ll be at century 21 in lower manhattan. Sweater section Dm me when you’re here. An hour or less, ideally

 He – er, ok, sure. See ya soon. Sweater weather.

 She – Huh?

 He- quick trip outta the pajamas and into a lyft to lower manhattan. Saturday afternoon. Silent as the crackers have hit the road for the holiday. Century 21, hell when was the last time he was there. Maybe some underwear modeling with an exotic dancer he was dating a million years ago. Definitely pre 9/11. What are you getting yourself into? And I guess given the last 8 months, who cares. 

 She- looking at her watch, hoping that this bald weirdo is not too much of a creep, but then again who cares. Her life will never be the same again, regardless. Up here in new york hiding in plain sight is just plain right. Who cares what these mean people want.

 He- dm’s here from the lyft pulling up, and she says to meet her at the registe

r. She will be wearing a blue cardigan, Smithsonian mask, blonde hair, black frames, 5’6, rubenesque. She- oh there he is on the escalator. Old , flat cap, beat up leather jacket. He looks like some rough trade. Hell, he looks like a cab driver from old movies. Remember, hiding in plain sight. She suggests the hot dog cart outside. He laughs and says sure.

 He- the hot dog stand. Why not, it’s a chamber of commerce day. he asks her if she wants to go to staten island and the ferry. She says she doesn’t like ferries. How about they go to her hotel which is right there, to drop her shopping off. To the hotel it is. He hopes that she doesn’t ask too many questions about 9/11 or too many stories. He doesn’t want to go into his philosophies on that has histories’ ultimate false flag event. He/d rather keep it light and see what happens. 

 She – she invites him up, she tells him that shes covid free, btw, and he says he is too. In the empty elevator she presses up against him close and removes both masks and kisses him firmly . she tastes coconut oil, he tastes butter. They kiss all the way to 26th, and stop and laugh and get off and walk to her room.

 He –wowzers, she tastes like butter. And hot dogs. And that’s kinda hot. We/ve got a live one here, he thinks. God bless the suburbs, this is shaking out like that afternoon at the times square hojo’s a lifetime ago, without the day drinking or coke hangover 

 She- well for a funny looking fool, he’s a good kisser, and he tastes like coconut, and hot dogs. She wonders whether there are still macaroons in the room

 He- there are shopping bags everywhere, and takeout containers. He guesses that there is limited hotel services. He wonders if there is room service. He wonders if they have French fries. He hasn’t had French fries in nearly 9 months. She seems very preoccupied, mumbling something when they aren’t playing tonsil hockey, which has resumed against the window overlooking the 9/11 memorial. He wonders what it would be like to fall out the window on to the street below. He wonders who would take his records and spread his ashes on the back side of catalina island. Then he realizes that he has paid his rent early and can he cease the thought of falling out the window and death in general. 

 She- she throws her phone on the night stand and looks at this reptile of a man and wonders if this is how it all ends. He doesn’t seem like a psycho, but who does at first. She remembers that lobbyist in that falls river hotel on election night and her neck still hurts. Well eff him. New beginnings. She roots through all of the shopping bags and finds what she is looking for, pulls it out, throws it over to her future ex paramour, and says ‘put this on, i/ll be right back’ 

 He – holy shit, she has thrown him an uncle sam costume, and tells him to put it on, and kisses him firmly on her way to the bathroom, she says that she will be right back. Oh dear, what has he gotten himself into. There is still time to leave as she has disappeared with two bags to the bathroom and is humming what sounds like a billy joel song . he laughs and quickly disrobes into the uncle sam costume. He remembers a time where something comparable happened in a south williamsbiurg tenement where the bombshell brunette he/s been eyeing up for months took him home and made him wear a santa claus costume. He wonders what happened to her. He wonders what he is going to do for Christmas this year. He wonders if he and this woman will have a rendez vous in a month with different costumes under different circumstances. He wonders whether she is a white meat person or a dark meat person.

 She- peels off her clothes, she is sweaty, and feels ripe, but she doesn’t care. She puts on the stolen leopard skin panties and the too small I heart new york t shirt and statue of liberty crown, opens the bottle and takes a big swig. And it burns badly, but it is today, it is merely one piece of the puzzle.

 He – sees her come out the door with leopard skin panties that look like his tinder profile picture face covering. She is wearing a $5 I heart new york tshirt, too small, a pearly necklace, a stature of liberty crown, and is swigging from a bottle of wild turkey 101. She asks if he wants some. He wonders if she is talking about the bourbon. 

 She- he says he wants some, but not the bourbon. Happy thanksgiving she says, I guess i/ll have cold turkey then. Not yet you will. 

 AND THEY ARE OFF. KISSING AND GRASPING AND GASPING AND GRAPPLING AND GROPING AND FINGERING AND FONDLING AND DIDDLING AND DRINKING(she bourbon, he some flat doctor pepper off the bedside table. 

 She- shouting, FUCK ME UNCLE SAM, FUCK ME LIKE A SENATOR, and reaches for her phone , scrolling and swearing under her breath

 He- ruminating, like a senator? That is a loaded statement, aren’t most of these senators older than god, queerer than Christmas, and always above the elbow on the first date? He decides to roll with it, quietly hoping that she is not going to play any billy joel, unless it is the piano man. He likes that one. 

 She- she has dragged this uncle sam clad uncle fester in the sack and they are officially doing the jobbie , she has stopped screaming at him, she has got the number queued up in her phone. The only music is the rhythm of two strangers having awkward sex in a dirty room in an empty hotel at the arse end of manhattan in the last days of the American experiment. Desperate and alone, they are having fun. 

 He- he thanks someone that she didn’t play we didn’t start the fire, though he laughs that feels like what they are doing. This has to go done as the greatest tinder date of all time. The crown is on the floor and the pearl necklace make him think that he would also like to give this wildcat a pearl necklace of her own, but focuses on the task at hand as he continues to push into her from behind at her insistence. She begins chanting something in a repetitive fashion, something he has never heard in sex before and he has heard some funny shit. It begins to become more audible. Yes, she says , yes, yes, yes. She reaches for her phone , and pushes a button. Again he hopes that it is not more billy joel, but that keeps him going. 

 She – yes, she says, and as she hits the dial button and the speaker phone whilst this coconut smelling creep in an uncle sam costume pushes into her from behind she’s nearly there, breathing harder, yessing rhythmically, waiting for the ring , waiting for the voice on the other end- certify, she says, certify certify certify CERTIFY CERTIFY, as the phone picks up, the familiar voice that has been harassing her for months and sending threats, but she has this all on record through a conference line to all pertinent parties- BAD LINE- CERTIFY – CERTIFY- CERTIFY- RELEASE ALL OF THE FUNDS. The gasps, laughing lasciviously. Screaming all of the above once more, for all on the call to hear.

 He- laughing his ass off, release all of the funds? That’s definitely a new one, though it certainly feels like she’s released all of her funds as he releases his. He hopes she doesn’t high five him. He hates when that happens. They collapse on separate sides of the bed, both breathing hard. She starts fiddling with her phone and then the remote, seemingly ignoring him. 

She- she looks over at him and reaches over with her free hand and gently pinches his forearm, as she flips the channels looking for a news feed. Here she is in the media capital of America and she can’t find anything but honeymooners and Seinfeld repeats. She wants to complain to the manager, but she wants to see herself on the news first. She wants her costumed compadre to leave, if only to go get more hot dogs, but she wants to see the news. And there it is.

 He-. He watches her clutching her pearls, sniffling, watching CNN. he wonders if he should say something. He wonders if he should leave He looks at the idiot box himself and then back at her. Holy smokes. He just had sex with the second most reviled person in America, and it was awesome.