Black Party NYC

This year I really wanted to revisit the Black Party in NY. I had this feeling it was not to be and I was correct again. I returned from the Dominican Republic and I was very sick with a lung infection. The night of the black party my temperature was 104 and I knew the only date I had was with my bed. After two days of sleeping I started feeling better and starting thinking about my black parties past.

I am not big on spending the whole night up at some club or even doing any drugs to accomplish this feat so I don't know why I wanted to go in the first place.

In 1987 my friends talked me into attending my first Black Party at the original Saint location. I remember driving to NY and parking on 2nd ave near St. Marks place. Robert Mclaughlin was a friend of mine who always worked all these venues, black parties, white parties, red parties, you name it and he always had some connection to get us in. That night was no different, we all met at around 1am in front of the Saint. The DJ for the evening was Chuck Parsons, and lighting man extraordinaire Richard Sabala. The minute we arrived I remember everyone mentioning that I should take some coke to keep me up for the night, I figured that I didn't need it and boy was I wrong. The place was filled with hot men, and remember this was 1987 and Aids had did its number already on the community. Little did I know that out of 8 of us there that night only 2 of us are alive today.

I remember that this was billed as the safe black party, the invitation came with a condom attached.

The music was amazing, and the crowd was really upbeat. I hung near this huge table filled with fruit and kept thinking Ill never make it to 12noon like most of my friends.

They had a huge round sitting area downstairs and my friend Robert was taking a break from bar tendering, so I went over and sat with him. We talked about how this night had such a strange feeling and like we were dancing for our lives. He didn't know it that night but he was so right. The strange thing was 10 years later I met him in Palm Springs at a house he was staying at for the White Party. He couldn't attend the White Party because his HIV medication was giving him such bad diarrhea, I stayed by the pool with him and we talked into the night. I think we both knew the life we had know was coming to end. A few weeks later he was found dead in his apartment.

Back to 1987 and the Black Party, while Robert and I were talking he was cruising some guy across the way from us. I was so tired, I laid my head on his lap and almost dozed off. I remember Robert yelling someone get him home, I woke up and said guys we will speak tomorrow. They were all laughing, they knew me better than I knew myself, I would never make the night. After I left I walked to my car and I saw glass all over the floor, I knew immediately the car window was smashed and the radio stolen. It turned out to be a very expensive night but one I would pay anything again to redo with my friends. I am glad for the memories good and bad. Maybe next year.................................