The year of our lord, two-thousand aught nine was a distinct nadir in my existence. Like the ’70s in New York City, I look back on 2009 as having been a very dark place in time; hidden danger lurked around every corner. My friends were frenemies and my enemies wanted to murder me. With an ax. Ironically.
Uptown is a place where 2009 lives on with a vengeance – at least on Saturday nights. I spent most of the last Saturday curled up under the overhang of an Asteroids cabinet next to this pinball machine. Periodically someone would ask “is that’s an FM2?” or about my thermos. Between shutters and sips of beer I searched for something that proved I hadn’t accidentally slipped backwards in time a la Billy Pilgrim, in vain.
