Started out innocently enough. I saw a flier for a party near my beat, Sunset Park. Not really, though. It was Industrial City.  This little enclave of concrete, brick and old school manufacturing within good smelling range of the Gowanus. Actually, smack dab between the Gowanus and the BQE.

The flier mentioned it was a free warehouse party, which was all I needed to know. It was about a week before Halloween and I needed some free drinks in my system, even if it was mystery punch. On my way to the event, I noticed on the flyer I printed that there was a small box in the corner saying it was a benefit for Artists 4 Isreal. Okay. Not big deal, everyone is entitled to their political agenda.

When I arrived at the event, after walking down a long cobble stone industrial-rimmed street off 3rd Avenue, I walked up a short flight of steps and saw a large door with two young buxom ladies standing out front. They each had super sexy “Halloween costumes” on and held onto an iPad and mini keyboard. I figured they were asking people to sign up for something upon entering this free jump-off.

“$10 dollars please,” said the young lady. After making my ” Damn, I thought it was free,” face, I dropped the “I’m a reporter” line on her.

“Well it’s to benefit Artists 4 Isreal. Plus, we have free drinks.”

“Well, I’ won’t drink,” was my reply. I then stopped staring at her chest and strolled inside, camera in hand.

I didn’t really know what I was getting into. This was definitely some Brooklyn, hipster, arty, loft party. There were projections, pumpkins, half-nekked women with paint on them walking around. Hipsters. Thug hipsters. People who looked out of place. Someone collapsed and the medics were called in. I met a guy in a blue robe.

It was surreal to me for that section of Brooklyn. Nothing was really making sense. There was a lot of fitness in the room. I actually did sneak some punch, but believe me it didn’t compromise my ethics.

The dude in the blue robe, the coordinator of the event, and a distance relative of a famous lawyer called me over for a “photo op”. He was smashing pumpkins. No, not those Pumpkins.

It was some art intervention type thingy, only a dude in a yarmulke participated and OBAMA was written on one of the pumpkins. Damn, this was some real radical shit going on. Was I messed up for watching this and taking pictures? I was practicing my journalistic distance. Besides, he was letting me take pictures and I figured it would make for an interesting “check out what I saw” story.

 

 

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