I awoke in the year 2021, I was on a line stretching from West 81st Street to 63rd. A man was yelling “Corona, Mojitos,” torturous siren calls for someone struggling to maintain their sobriety.
“4 weeks, 4 weeks,” I repeated to myself. 4 weeks of sobriety, Dante had 9 circles.
I was with my friend, we had just smoked marijuana, or: mary jane, grass, kush, pot, etc.
I was feeling it, so was he.
“This is hell.” My mind continued to go back to Dante.
The line was for a concert, a free concert. Another friend, separate of the one who was currently stoned at my side, had provided me with the tickets. She was entering from the east, we were coming in from the west. We had them surrounded.
The concert was the “Global Citizens Festival,” a collection of artists from a variety of differing genres (and current levels of relevance to the public). I recognized a few of the names, was unfamiliar with others.
“Rip Van Winkle” was a short story written by Washington Irving. In it, a man takes a nap prior to the American Revolution, sleeps for 100 years, and awakens to a new world. My coworkers did not recognize it when I referenced it in passing. I am a relic.
Cyndi Lauper’s name stood out to me on the setlist, relic.
“This is awful.” We repeated this endlessly, we were in line for what must have been about 2 hours. We kept toying with the idea of smoking again, we had two untouched joints in a small baggie. We opted against it, we didn’t want to pollute the air around us. This concert was an attempt to get corporations to do that very same thing. To not pollute the air that is.
“Corona, mojitos!”
We eventually made it through security, we managed to sneak a lighter and the pot in with little issue. The concert took place on the “Great Lawn,” a massive field smack dab in the middle of Central Park. It was a beautiful day, 72 degrees and sunny. Despite being America’s most populous city, the air managed to maintain a surprisingly decent quality. Cyndi Lauper had wrapped up her set just as we made it to the entrance of the festival grounds, I was inconsolable.
“When the workin’ day is done
Oh girls, they wanna have fun”
Texas! It sticks in my head, I can’t get over it. Couch-seat-cowboys lassoing doctors, awarding themselves sheriff stars. Bastards.
We found my friend, she was with her boyfriend and a friend from Canada. He worked for the Conservative Party of Canada, I didn’t broach the topic of Texas. I didn’t broach any topic, it was far too beautiful of a day to waste discussing politics.
“I am from the Maldives, islands whose very existence is threatened by climate change.”
This was a former President of the United Nations General Assembly. His country has the unfortunate distinction of being surrounded by water that doesn’t want to stay put. The water was restless because of the actions of companies — the very same companies that sponsored this event which was dedicated in part to preventing restless water.
I’ve just woken up in the year 2021, I am underwater.
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, recent British turncoats, took the stage. They called for an end to suffering in the world, they called for an end to hunger in the world, they called for an end to the Covid pandemic around the world. They reminded us of how difficult these last two years have been for all of us. I couldn’t argue. More than 4 million people across the world had died from this dreaded disease, they had to move to Canada.
My friend turned to me, camera in hand, and asked what I thought about the “Duke of Sussex.”
“Free Ireland, ‘Brits out of Ireland!”
It’s an odd experience, that is being lectured by literal royalty.
The couple had the unfortunate experience of dealing with the racism that is still embedded within the British monarchy and aristocracy. Many people, including the couple, seemed shocked to learn this fact — that racism still existed within the dominion of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. I was surprised that others were surprised, even a basic understanding of British history would’ve provided enough clues. If only the couple had been aware of the arrogance that serves as the fabric of Anglo-Saxon culture before any unpleasantries were experienced by the Duchess of Sussex.
Britain polluted the world with British flags.
I laid down and took note of the clouds. The texture of one reminded me of the first knife scoop in a freshly opened tub of butter, salted butter. I was hungry.
“Smoking marijuana is more fun than drinking beer”
— Phil Ochs, “Outside of a Small Circle of Friends”
“4 weeks, 4 weeks.”
There were no alcoholic beverages at the event.
A few minor acts performed, all perfectly acceptable. My friend and I, now sober, decided to brave the concession line in pursuit of carbonated soda. We got on one of the many lines that stretched, on average, about 100 people back. We moved at the rate of one spot in line every 3 minutes, we were on line for almost 2 hours.
Concerts are hell.
Right as we approached the front, an announcement was made that sent the middle-class concert goers into a furor: “There’s no more food!”
A group of girls, who had almost abandoned the line earlier when Shawn Mendes took the stage, were enraged. They had waited on line for 2 hours, all for nought, and missed the act they were most excited to see. Lizzo had also performed, my friend and I watched it from the screen that was closest to the concession lines. Although my taste in music is mainly prehistoric, I do enjoy a fair amount of modern acts. Lizzo is one of them. She also plays the flute, isn’t that fun?
I got a Sprite, my friend was forced to get a Coca-Cola infused with coffee. His initial choice, Coke Energy, had sold out. There was no announcement regarding that, only the one for the food.
The CEO of the Coca-Cola company took the stage to remind us of the perils of climate change and the lack of equity in the world.
I made it clear that I did not approve. “Go fuck yourself! You killed union leaders and strikers in Guatemala!”
I then took a sip of Sprite, a product within the Coca-Cola company’s family of beverages. It was refreshing.
Jennifer Lopez performed next, she was phenomenal. I texted one of my roommates who asked if I was still at the concert. She was grabbing dinner with my other roommate, her boyfriend. I said this about J.Lo: “She’s killing it!”
Meek Mill proceeded J.Lo. My freind and I agreed it was now an oppurtune time to finish the other two joints we had snuck in. They were poorly rolled, a fact my friend openly admitted. We struggled to keep them lit against the breeze, a woman came over to borrow our lighter. My friend was paranoid even though it was no longer a crime to smoke marijuana. He looked terrified when she walked over.
High again, high again.
The music sounded fantastic, the bass alone shook me to my core. Meek Mill played what seemed like two songs and took leave, I was disappointed.
Next was Billie Eilish. She is only 19 years old and is a worldwide superstar, not to mention an incredibly talented performer. What did she tell the crowd that night?
“It smells like shit up here. No, like, really! It smells like actual shit.”
She then told us to forget about the worries that plagued us, the issues that this concert hoped to address, if only for the length of a song. None of us could protest, we were drowning in worry.
She brought us back to reality, the reality that the world is in bad shape. Not only that it is currently in bad shape, but that its getting worse. Who was supposed to save the planet, according to the Global Citizen organization?
Citibank, the Coca-Cola Company, and the United States Congress.
“We are fucked.”
I told my friend that if the water levels rose to the degree that the Maldives were submerged, we could simply pump the water out of the ocean and blast it into space. He accused me of being high, I was.
We decided to leave after Billie’s set ended. We bid our benefactor, her boyfriend, and the Canadian adieu. He was from Quebec, French Canada.
I awoke in the year 2021, everyone speaks French.
We met up with my roommates, they were wrapping up a date at a lovely wine spot in the Upper West Side. My friend and I were in search of food, all the talk of world-wide hunger had left a pit in our stomachs.
“St. James has food.” An Irish pub within walking distance. ‘Brits out of Ireland!
We passed a high school a few blocks up. My roommate who invited us along mentioned her fear of city high school students, all of us were graduates of suburban schools.
“They come out of the womb tough, and their parents are all landlords.”
We passed a gaggle of high school students, one of them pissed on the street next to a parked car.
My roommate noticed, “And one of them’s pissing!” They paid no heed to us, they were used to it.
We got to the pub.
“Kitchen still open?”
“Aye.”
Real Irishmen at an Irish pub, always a joy. My roommate has Irish citizenship due to her Father being an Irishman. If the world does end, which seems likely, she can escape to the Emerald Isle.
“Every drop of spilt whiskey is another year in hell.”
— Myself, on many occasions.
We took our seats outside, I got wings and my friend got a reuben sandwich. My roommates ordered more booze, I asked for a Coca-Cola. Two hours later, we charted course for home. I was the only one sober by this point, I was not lost in the familiar drunken stupor that I had grown so accustomed to over the years. I was sober, s-o-b-e-r. The word rattles around in my head.
Sober.
I want to help save the world, I really do. I just wish the bastards who destroyed it in the first place wanted to do the same.
“We could’ve saved the planet, but we were too busy enjoying an ice cold glass of Coca-Cola.”
God bless the agitators of Guatemala, God bless the victims of the British Empire, and God bless the folks who are going to need to develop gills if they hope to survive. That’s us.
Back from whence we came! Perhaps our biggest mistake as a species was leaving the ocean in the days when almost all of the Earth was covered in boiling hot water? We’re simply returning to our roots.
We finished our march to the subway station, we were home within the hour. My friend crashed at my place, my roommates set up a bed for him. Hospitality.
We’ll all need to be real hospitable soon, folks in the Maldives won’t have a home for much longer. Anyone got some spare space?
I’ve awoken in the year 3021, I’m still in line for a Coca-Cola.
