Posted by Mr. Robot | November 28th, 2022 | No responses
Once again I pack the Nikon D850 with a Nikkor 24/70mm Lens, and a Profoto A10 Flash in Skyport Marina East River in Manhattan, New York.
At some point I am going to talk a lot of shit about empanadas. Put a pin in that one for now though and let’s talk about a mobile night club on water that takes its passengers for a little boat ride. From the Skyport Marina East River all the way for a peak under the Statue of Liberty’s dress. A charming and cozy little environment for drinking, dancing, and “rap moshing” I guess. A little roughhousing as my teachers used to call it amongst friends. Fist pumping in the air, puffy jackets clash against each other, and the sounds of lyrics almost causing the boat to go up in flames. You got these young talented performers all reaching for the mic, all eager to send a message, and mostly wanting to enjoy life as it happens. No Ice Cubes, no Ice-Ts, and luckily no Icebergs.
Photo tip: I’d like to know if you got the notion? Bring flash gels for the night life environment. The more colors the merrier.
How does the mobile night club work? Well, you have two boat floors to work with here. Downstairs you have music, a light show, a front house bar, and someone selling empanadas for $5.00 a piece. Upstairs is the same shit minus the empanadas (more on that soon), but you can actually go outside, check out the scenery, and catch your breath. “Sail time” (as Tokyo V puts it) clocks in at around 8 Knots.
Special Guest: Nine Inch Nails
At some point the rocking of the boat reminds you that you are out at sea and inside the party kicks off with DJs on the digital decks. The bar is open and the beats hit the dance floor with the room filling up with enough smoke that I just know the second hand is enough to raise red flags on future drug tests.
We have lots of rappers. I do mean lots of rappers. It felt like Rapper Con 2022 up in this boat. I can’t remember all of the names, but we had Marc the Don and his swift key blade rocking the mic, followed by another MC going by the name, Duracell. Hmmm, I dunno how Samuel Ruben would feel about that. Maybe good ol Sam would approve because living up to the name the performances were filled with high energy. Then we had DJ Hotrod on the decks, and that is about all I can remember. I mean there was an all star line up, but wtf do I know?? I was still pissed off about the empanadas.
This piece is basically about how I really disliked these empanadas the vendors were selling on the boat. NGL (as the kids say) but damn, I was really disappointed. You had all this rockstar energy and at the end of the night you were down for some good eats. A soft voice is heard above the raging music in a fairly confident way of vending. “Would you like some empanadas?”
You got cheese! You got chicken! Then you got the beef! Now, you can make some pretty unwise decisions on what you spend your money on. Some purchases will haunt you with regret for the rest of your life.
Story time: I can recall paying $12 dollars for a shitty smoothie near Central Park from a street vendor (Fuck that guy), but at $5 dollars per empanada, you might be thinking “how bad could this be?” Well, give me a muthafukin DISLIKE button for this empanada and I would smash that shit all day (the dislike button not the empanada). At the risk of hurting some abuelita’s feelings or whatever, I think this hypothetical person deserves some specific constructive criticism. Yo empanadas were dry and they were tasteless. Like eating a bite of Coney Island beach sand. On the plus, if the ship was sinking, these empanadas would be the equivalent to an airplane’s black box. One could easily grab an empanada and use it as a floatation device if that was the case. Can’t swim? Grab one of these empanadas then.
Pics or it didn’t happen? I don’t take pics of my food. I just talk shit about food. If you could just trust my word, you dont need to see it to believe it.
The night ended as quickly as it started, and the little boat headed back to dock at the Skyport Marina. All of us lined up, single file, and exiting out of the Portside door. Most of us were drunk, some of us were high, and the ship’s crew were no doubt in my mind the highest as they were mowing down the remaining unsold inventory of empanadas. One crew member threw an empanada overboard, but the fish threw that shit back. Hey, go for the music, the drinks, and the entertainment, but pass on the ship food. Empanadas are special to me.
Hello friend.
