Party Hazards

So wasn’t it just a week ago that the Pines in Fire Island hosted its annual Ascension Party?

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No, I didn’t go, but apparently everyone else did. I spoke to Josh Rozenzweig from here TV, who said he lasted ten minutes. Something about the heat and how he was spritzing through his T-shirt. You mean you wore a T-shirt Josh?

Like the thousands of other gay men who were dancing topless and sometimes even bottomless out there on the beach with the sun beating down on their over-processed, highlighted hair, the Ascension Party, which incidentally is the evolved incarnation of the Morning Party, raged on. Fiercely, I might add, even when Kelly Rowlands took to the stage to sing.

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“Who knew she had a song?” I asked. “I’m still trying to figure our how she got that job hosting, The Fashion Show.”

“What?” said Johnny Lee. “When Love Takes Over, is the song of the summer. It’s this year’s Pine’s Party anthem!”

Well, excuse me Miss Lee.

I guess I’m too old because I don’t get excited by such things anymore. Or perhaps it’s because one week after the Ascension Party the real party takes place in my office as men file into the waiting room in droves complaining of body aches, bruises and sinus infections (God only knows why?), and of course urethral discharge.

One such patient blacked out Saturday night, woke up briefly flat on his back in some bushes, and then blacked out again only to wake up Sunday evening. Over twelve hours later! Not good. And when he did wake up, he had so many bruises and injuries you would have thought he was dragged from behind a truck and hog tied to some tree in the meat wrack. Good Lord. Vodka and Red Bull should not be mixed. Let that be a lesson.

This all reminds me of the one and only time I was the doctor on Fire Island over two years ago. I took charge of my post on the day of the Ascension Party. Within two hours, I was called to a house where a twenty-five year old male was on the ground lifeless while his hysterical friends fluttered about. He had overdosed on GHB while soaking in the hot tub. Then when his friends tried to revive him, they panicked when he became unresponsive. Unfortunately, they delayed calling 911 and someone had the bright idea to insert some Crystal Meth into his anus in an attempt to wake him up from his coma. Meth plus the GHB likely caused his myocardial infarction. I spent that afternoon carrying a dead boy into an ambulance.

Now you understand why I don’t go to the Ascension Party.

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And just what is it we’re celebrating anyway? Ascencion to this former Catholic commemorates Jesus’ ascencion into heaven. Is that what we’re doing out there? Baking in the sun, instigating God into taking us up to the heavens? Not me. If I’m going to heaven, it will be while I’m eating pizza in bed watching Project Runway with Chad on my left and Hoffman on my lap.

Make it work, Lord.

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One Comment

  1. Posted August 26, 2009 at 2:05 pm | Permalink

    Yeah, I find there’s nothing sexier than going to a party…and passing a line-up of ambulances outside!


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