Voyeur

My Black Party days are long past but now the that the "20-hour dance event" has moved from the wilds of Brooklyn back into Manhattan, I checked it out at the halfway point.  The new venue, at the corner of 50th Street and 12th Avenue, ain't no Roseland.

In a full display of our community's diversity, the undressed and foil-wrapped men are retrieving their clothes, the jacketed men are checking theirs.

Pedestrians, drivers and passengers all gawked along with me, albeit for different reasons. The confused expressions on a family of cruise ship passengers said it all:  "Mommy, why aren't the men wrapped in tin foil wearing any pants?"