- Hauled our collective Bungalow Butt down to Chelsea in an (expensive) cab
- Screwed ourselves out of the opportunity for real culture
- Spent money on tickets for this retarded performance
- And had to stand like rejects in the back of the "intimate" theatre for such a piece of doo-doo dance performance
And so, when the train reached 72nd Street, I did the only logical thing. I jumped off and ran into Fairway to erase the memories of bad New York culture and touch honest produce, sincere dry goods and real meat from (formerly) living creatures who did not imagine that their aimless amblings made them members of an elite known as Artists.