XIII: Death by Pop-Up Tent

Mid-July
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So after the Sis' wedding, Valerie and I flew to NYC to get our BBQ on.
(I held a voting contest (via the txt message) on where to have the annual 48-Hour BBQ and NYC beat out LA and Buffalo)

A few days before the main event, I gave Valerie a tour through her first time in NYC.

We took a trip to Central Park.

Valerie (Central Park), in what appears to be a structure left by an ancient civilization.

We even found a space ship in the middle of Manhattan, and for $8 it transported us to Mars. Which, to me, seems like a really good deal- seeing how high gas prices are getting.
So far Mars has a LOT of red rope lights, and an arcade...in which half the machines are broken. And every time someone...from Mars...greets you or asks you a question, they refer to you as "Earthling."

It's a little degrading.

Us in front of Ellis Island.

Apparently they just installed a statue there? I dunno. It wasn't there last time I saw it.

Oh boy! I've been to NYC a bunch of times, but man-o-man, New York City- now with Mario Lopez!!!

It's a good thing I didn't have khakis on, otherwise tourists probably would have mistaken me for him.

That's all I really had in terms of general city pictures. I was actually really sick and coughing uncontrollably the whole time the whole time so I was distracted from taking pictures (it turned out I had bronchitis).
Basically I showed Valerie all the places I love. So...like basically...Dinosaur BBQ...and Gray's Papaya.
She was pretty overwhelmed by all the people- I forgot that to someone who has never been there before, the subway alone is a pretty intimidating experience. Of course, the taxi drivers don't help either.

On to the main event!

July 12th & 13th
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The day of the big BBQ was finally upon us! (Adam's rooftop pre-BBQ)

We set up a shelter (it was pretty sunny out, so shade was key).

It was extremely windy out, so we roped (string-ed?) down one of the legs to a vent, and weighed down the center with a giant rock.

NYC rooftops are known for their luxurious rocks.

Just for safe measure we also weighed down two more legs with giant steel door and a cooler full of beer.

Cleanin' off the ol' meat heater.

Steve making sure cell phone reception is acceptable.

Eli...chewin' gum, kickin' ass and takin' names.

After a few hours of mingling I decided to construct a napkin airplane.

Using Eli's engineering skills...

...combined with my dexterous fingers...

...we created what could possibly be considered the worlds most perfect flying machine.

Behold.

Adam's rooftop used to have a beautiful unobstructed view of Manhattan. Then this monstrosity was erected.

Luckily the North side of the roof still has this view.

An important meating.

"Look!" said Emily, "it's beauuuuuutifulllllll!"

I don't know what the name of the building in the middle is, but considering it's colors I'm pretty sure it's safe to say it's the "Ummmarrraacah Building of Justice."
Slightly on-topic, Steve and I researched it and if you stacked another "Building of Justice" on top of itself, it'd still be a few hundred feet short of the Berj Dubai (which should be completely in exactly one year).

Night has fallen, but the meat heater still rages on.

Quietly through the night I sang Adam to sleep.

Lulling him with songs of love and bbq sauce and meat.

In the morning he woke up and said, "You're so fucking emo. I hate you."

We gathered a new round of provisions from the local grocery, hauling them with vigor to the rooftop.

Time to get our last 24 hours of meat on.

We had taken the tent down during the night, to be safe. Waking up early to re-erect it. (See the solid steel door? Seems like a pretty trusty weight huh?)

The BBQ meated onwards. Emily was in full relaxation mode.

Erect was in 84% relaxation mode. But hey, that's pretty good for Erik.

Locasio even showed up, with the gift of water. In the form of melon.

In the spirit of the event it seemed only fitting that it should be grilled.

And then plugged with explosives.

And then dropped a few stories onto cement.

...In retrospect I guess we could have just ate it.

High-noon was upon us, and I was anxious to break out a fish head I got a great deal on.

"Don't grill me!" he begged.

But I've never been one for negotiation.

Especailly when it's talking meat.

So he cooked, both on the grill and in the sun.

At one point, in a final act of desperation, he lunged at my throat.

At first he was no match for my man-spatula.

But after repeated attemps at my life there was only one way to end his reign of terror.

By throwing him.

Now even if the tiny bits of demon fish head were able to reform into one solid entity, we'd still be more than a rooftop's safety away from him.

To our surprise, his fishy bits oozed together forming the most evil creature known to this dimension.

Huh.

Everyone sat around lazily. The many hours of sunlight and lack of sleep was setting in.

Without any notice, or indication of faulty wiring, the tent blew over.

When I say this- I want you to picture sitting under a tent who's legs are attached to a pipe. A rock. A steel door. And a cooler. Then instantly, and I mean INSTANTLY, the tent is gone. Sunlight is just beaming down on you. Something seems strange because there wasn't sunlight a second ago. And now water is streaming towards your leg from a cooler that is broken in half.

Like the soldiers in Iwo Jima, we struggled against the wind to raise our patriotic the tent.

The tarp of the tent, a giant sail fighting against us, threatened to pull us all off the roof.

Finally we stripped the canvas from it...

...leaving it a naked twisted metal skeleton.

With it finally back on the rooftop, somewhat secure, it started to dawn on us how lucky we were that no one was hurt.

Steve reflected on his life choices, knowing that it could have been him ripped in half instead of the cooler.

It was also a wonder the whole tent didn't just blow off the rood, dragging along the enormous rock that was tied too it.

The white minivan below us will never know close it was to losing it's life this day.

Covered with the blood of many beers...

...we gathered together to disassemble the steel death trap.

Steve, the biggest help of all.

"I'm not sure I can return it to Walmart like this." mumbled emo Adam.

"Tell them the story." said Derek. "Tell them. OUR. Story."

Tears rolled down their faces.

After cleaning the mess left in the wake of terror...

...we were left, with no shelter, to bake in the sun.

Boredom began to set in.

I found a plank of wood, and decided to put good use to the empty beer bottles laying around us.

Sliding the bottle, parallel, under the wood- we tried to see how many times we could stand on it and spin around without falling off (using pure momentum).

Which lead to a different idea...

After discovering a simple tool, which was named the "wood-er and beer-crum" Derek turned and shouted, "Steve! You stand over there, and try to catch the bottle after I launch it!"

To Steve and Derek, this seemed a good idea.

Eventually leading to the discovery of the worlds first "beel." (Beer...wheel...)

"Let's see how long we can balance on this cheap glass bottle in our flip flops!"

Which in turn lead to two "beels," which would soon be known as a "bar." (Beer car)

And THAT, is the history of where bars came from.

The kind you drink in. Not...the lead kind....that...you hit people's knees with.

"What if..."

"We add more bottles!"

This looks like a safe. AND fun. Idea.

Easyyyyy does it....

Success! "I think we just invented...FUN."

"What if we use...MORE...bottles!"

This amazing idea CAN NOT fail.

Some finishing touches...

Testing them for "roll-asticity"...

...it seemed secure. And very. VERY. Safe.

Running at the plank of wood, at a moderate speed, we shall then jump on it!

And glide! Glide like the wind!

"Weeeeeeee! This is more fun than ANYTHING! EVER!"

"Will you fucking asshole please quiet the fuck down! You're fucking bottles are making a fuck-ton of fucking noise in my apartment that's right the fuck below you!

You stupid fucks."

The lady that lived downstairs did not share our enthusiasm.