A White Stretch Limo with Texan Bullhorns

Sometimes bizarre can be exciting. At least that's how I would describe perhaps one of the most interesting experiences I've had in a big city reminiscent of a scene from a movie conceptualized to depict the endless possibilities of entertainment nestled inbetween the East River and Hudson also known as Manhattan.

It was Saturday night and I was playing host to yet another one of my mates from my study abroad experience in London-- RM who was in town for the night in true celebratory fashion. I was in my usual stomping ground of the Lower East Side at a bar/club called Keys on 13th St. between Ave. A and 1st Ave. when RM showed up all smiles and with a pocket of money itching to be spent on booze. He had his friend Colin tag along for the festivities-- assuring him that CM and I were a trip to hang with-- prompting us to guarantee them a good night out on the town.

Apart from the usual boozing at the bar, partying with some broads from FSU and bombing shots like it was our job.... CM had come to know and grow to love a entrepreneur who owns a white stretch limo with Texan horns latched to the grill appropriately named "Big Al." Up until the mid-1990s limo pulled up on Ave. A and CM swung the door open to reveal a velvet red leather interior with zebra print shag carpetting, purple track-trimmed lighting and a psychedlic light display resting atop the back windshield-- did the adventures with "Big Al" CM ranted about seem like that out of a Snoop Dogg Up-in-Smoke Soul Plane movie. I was proven wrong when I gave into temptation and for the betterment of my friend RM having a good time out in Manhattan to hop into the limo with CM, RM and our lovely female guests.

No sooner did the door close did the limo start making its way through the blocks of the Lower East Side. The shabby and surprisingly retro-tastic limo was decked out with munchies (uhmm) and adult beverages. The limo, while timeless, was surprisingly fitted with a quality sound system navigable by the iPod resting atop the beverage bar left to the discretion of its passengers. It really felt like something out of a novel written about NYC and while incredibly cheesey (albeit partially sketchy) it was unbelieveably fun. Big Al rolled down the chauffer window to pass his guests a 6 pack of Budweiser cans (to keep with true tradition these were no Bud lights) and other paraphenilia in which the passengers had the option to partake in-- I'll leave it at that for you to make your own assumptions. He was a generous man from what I caught of the back of his head....he appeared tall, black and bald but that's merely my own conclusion considering he didn't even turn around to pass the beer back or glance at who it was partaking in the car service he provides. It seemd CM and him had worked up a nice working relationship and CM had become a regular. I rode along intently listening to whatever song selections the girls made and taking in as much of the uber swanky environment I had volunteered to be in. It could honestly only be described as pimp-a-licious. That's what it felt like....as if I should be decked out in a purple velour suit with my pimp cane in one hand and my bling-studded pimp chalice in the other. If it sounds as bizarre as I'm making it seem...it really was.

The drive lasted a good 30 minutes with no particular destination in mind--we ended up back at the bar, so that our other friends could take a ride around. By the end of it all...you kind of wonder if it's all just a supped-up taxi ride with a great story to tell come Monday. Perhaps, but I gotta tell ya -- it makes for yet another ridiculous story about what this city has to offer.