Part I: The Party
The other day I invited a couple of friends to a party that I was going to out in Park Slope. It was going to be low-key, but nice. I told them in an email: "The notice may be short, and the distance may be far, but I know you guys have cars. So let's do it to it." Besides the fact that I was sneakily positioning myself to get a ride home, rather than take the subway, I really wanted them to come.
They're old school cats who've been living in Harlem all their lives. They've seen the condos come up where there used to be abandoned lots. They've watched neighborhoods turn like seasons from a brown autumn, to a white winter. And, for the most part, they - like so many middle and lower-middle class beneficiaries of gentrification - have prospered. One of my friends just bought an X5 BMW to go with his Lexus.
But when I told these two old school Harlemites about the party in Brooklyn, they looked at me like I was crazy. "Brooklyn," my friend with the new X5 said, turning up his nose. "I thought it was only people living out there. I didn't know there were parties in Brooklyn."
He started laughing and giving fives. "I didn't know people partied in Brooklyn. Hahahaha!"
(To be continued...)