Queers hanging out in public were once considered a staple of West Village street culture. Yet within the climate of the Giuliani/Bloomberg “quality of life” crusade, the presence of gender insubordinate young Black and Latino queer youth, as opposed to white men with moustaches, is often viewed as a problem. […]
The crackdown is part of a campaign designed to privatize, sanitize, and control public spaces such as the piers throughout New York City. It began in 1994 as a cornerstone of Mayor Rudy Giuliani’s pledge to clean up New York City. Existing “quality of life” legislation falls under Article 240, Title N, Offenses Against Public Order, Public Sensibilities, and the Right to Privacy. Such “offenses” include “rioting, unlawful assembly, criminal anarchy, disorderly conduct, harassment, loitering, public intoxication, and criminal nuisance in a public space” (McClean, 2002). [… In 1995] the New York City Council passed a zoning law intended to restrict and shut down adult-use spaces such as strip clubs, bookstores, video stores, and movie houses. Mayor Giuliani hoped to shut down almost every adult business that dealt with sexual materials or entertainment.
When quasi-private interior spaces targeted by the zoning law were shut down, people with nowhere else to go moved outside. But visible signs of public sexual culture were further targeted with the police carrying out undercover sting operations, resulting in stepped-up arrests of men charged with indecent exposure, soliciting sex, and other “lewd” acts. Some were based on entrapment, while others were wrongful arrests. During one three-day sting by the Port Authority police in 1997, ninety men were arrested in the men’s bathroom in the PATH station concourse of the World Trade Center (Schindler, 1997).
Adonis elaborated: “If two heterosexuals were in the park making out and the police walked by, they wouldn’t say anything. If two homosexuals were doing things, they would say something.” Many of the “quality of life” initiatives appeared to specifically target queers. Selective enforcement of a Prohibition-era cabaret law, zoning ordinances, a ban on dancing, and fire codes were used to produce a constant flow of legal assaults narrowing the types of clubs and bars functioning in Manhattan. Before summer of 1997 some seventeen gay businesses, nine theaters, and eight clubs—including five in close proximity on Fourteenth Street—were closed for violations of the state health code banning oral, anal, or vaginal sex on business premises. That summer, fifty queer businesses faced some fourteen hundred inspections (Schindler, 1997). Many clubs could not endure the legal barrage and were forced to close their doors.
One such space was the Two Potato, a bar at the corner of Christopher and Greenwich Streets, close to the piers. […] L.P. and several others I interviewed recalled the Two Potato as a “legendary” gathering place for queer and transgender people of color. Like the West Village in general, the Two Potato provided a refuge when the AIDS epidemic hit. “At night people could spread out to Fourteenth Street and over to Two Potato on the water and just drink and wild out and have sex, and feel like we were still normal,” L.P. recalled. Yet the feeling of safety engendered within the queer spaces of the West Village was placed in jeopardy by phobias accompanying the epidemic. As L.P. explained, “We’d have to do a lot of fighting because there was a lot of prejudice.”
The pattern is simple enough. Moral guardians use fears about the AIDS crisis to justify restricting access to spaces such as the piers and Two Potato, supposedly in the name of community health and “the children.” What unfolds is a general “not in my backyard” thinking stirred up by the “quality of life” campaign. The result is simple. “He [Giuliani] used the excuse of AIDS. He was saying that [public sex] was a way to spread the virus, but responsible adults who knew about it used condoms. They were consenting adults,” Adonis explained.
Yet as the AIDS era wore on, anxieties about the epidemic coincided with countless other cultural phobias and inequalities. L.P. explained that just getting off the train at Fourteenth Street could be an ordeal. “If you got off the train and you looked gay, you might get beat up by a group of kids. ‘Faggot, we don’t want you in New York.’ And the police were no help. The cops would stand there and watch because they were in agreement that this was the gay man’s disease and that they didn’t want to get any bodily fluids on them or get involved. Let the faggot get what he deserves.” For L.P., navigating from the Bronx to the Village “was like going through a gauntlet.” Between the antivagrancy laws, a social purity crusade described as a “quality of life” campaign, and AIDS hysteria, L.P.—like many other queer youth—engaged in a struggle against what amounted to a panic over queer space.
In August 2001, after years of “quality of life” complaints, the Two Potato’s liquor license came up for review prior to renewal, and the bar was closed (McLean, 2002). For L.P. and countless others, the impact of the club’s closure and the subsequent erection of fences at the piers was immediate. “It made it very hard for us to function,” L.P. recalled. “You couldn’t hang out by the water anymore. They were doing construction on the highway so you couldn’t really go down there.”
Sylvia Rivera struggled for over thirty years to force the city to accept and protect the right of transgender people to walk or work in public space. In many ways, the youth who continue to struggle for queer spaces are working from the same vantage point. Queer space is about creating room for the spectacle of difference as opposed to assimilating sameness. As long as autonomous zones pop up, the possibility remains.
Benjamin Shepard, “Sylvia and Sylvia’s Children: A Battle for a Queer Public Space,” in That’s Revolting!: Queer Strategies for Resisting Assimilation (2008), ed. Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore
some context people don’t realize is their inheritance when they panic over lgbt sexuality
“I remember when I first came to this city. I was fourteen. My mom had just killed herself and my stepdad was back in prison, and I got here and I didn’t know anybody, and I ended up living with this albino guy who was like cleaning windshields outside port authority, and then he killed himself, and then I found aromatherapy. So believe me, I know exactly how you feel.”
“Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in airplanes or in their offices: secretaries, business men and women, military and federal workers, moms and dads, friends and neighbors. Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror. The pictures of airplanes flying into buildings, fires burning, huge – huge structures collapsing have filled us with disbelief, terrible sadness, and a quiet, unyielding anger. These acts of mass murder were intended to frighten our nation into chaos and retreat. But they have failed. Our country is strong.”
- George W. Bush
Today marks 15 years since that tragic day. Never forget the evil we witnessed that morning and never forget the heroism that followed in the wake of that evil.
Authority Police Officers Michael Wholeyleft and David LeMagneright last
seen in this picture assisting in the evacuation on 9/11/01. They
immediately ran back in to assist in further rescue, never to be seen
Continuation of this! I have a couple more nights of sleeping difficulty planned for poor Nursey, and eventually the whole thing is going up on ao3. This one got long. And if someone could help me figure out how to make the “keep reading” work for mobile…that would be GREAT - the internet is failing me.
Nursey’s bus leaves for Maine at 9:45am from Port Authority, and Nursey finds himself sprinting through the uptown building at 9:40 after initially going to the wrong gate. His duffle bag bounces against his side as he clambers down the escalator, finally arriving at his gate two minutes before the bus is supposed to depart. Panting, he hands his ticket to a very bored-looking driver, and hauls himself onto the bus. He finds a seat near the back, wanting to avoid the inevitable fall on the way to the shitty on-bus bathroom later on. Stowing his bag overhead, Nursey finally drops into his seat and lets out a long breath.
Me: made it :)
Dexyyy: Proud of you.
Dexyyy: What’s your ETA again?
Me: supposed to be around 7:30 I think? Bus takes fucking forever. Stops and shit
Summary: After the fall of SHIELD, The Winter Soldier slowly breaks through his HYDRA programming while on the run. As he makes his way out of America on foot, The Winter Soldier slowly rediscover himself, as Bucky Barnes.
or, the story where Bucky decides to get reacquainted with his past his own way.
A/N: Sorry for the wait, I have so many things going on right now so I’m not sure when part 3 will be up, but it’s coming, don’t worry. I’m not abandoning this one.
The Windows on the World
on the North Tower (Building One) of the original World Trade Center complex in Lower Manhattan. Windows on the World was destroyed when the North Tower collapsed
during the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. At the time of the
attack on the World Trade Center, the restaurant was hosting regular
breakfast patrons and the Risk Waters Financial Technology Congress. Everyone present in the restaurant when American Airlines Flight 11
penetrated the North Tower perished that day, as all stairwells leading
to below the impact zone were blocked immediately. Victims trapped in
Windows died either from smoke inhalation from the fire, jumping or falling to their deaths, or the eventual collapse of the North Tower 102 minutes later.
At the time of the attacks, there were 72 restaurant staff present in
the restaurant, including acting manager Christine Anne Olender, whose
desperate calls to Port Authority police represented the restaurant’s final communications. 16 Incisive Media-Risk Waters Group employees, and 76 other guests/contractors were also present. After about 9:40 AM, no further distress calls from the restaurant were
made. The last people to leave the restaurant before Flight 11 collided
with the North Tower at 8:46 AM were Michael Nestor, Liz Thompson,
Geoffrey Wharton, and Richard Tierney. They departed at 8:44 AM and
survived the attack.
World Trade Center lessor Larry Silverstein
was regularly holding breakfast meetings in Windows on the World with
tenants as part of his recent acquisition of the Twin Towers from the
Port Authority, and was scheduled to be in the restaurant on the morning
of the attacks. However, his wife insisted he go to a dermatologist’s
appointment that morning, whereby he avoided death.
Isamu Noguchi, Figure Portion of Composition for Arrivals Building, Idlewild Airport, 1956-58, Greek marble
A scale model of Noguchi’s proposal for Skidmore, Owings and Merrill and NY Port Authority, executed in Greek marble and intended for SOM’s new Arrivals building at Idlewild Airport (renamed JFK Airport) was exhibited in Noguchi’s 1959 exhibition at Stable Gallery in New York. The sculpture remained in Noguchi’s collection but unfortunately was broken and left unrepaired in his lifetime.
In one of those “humans, the weird aliens” posts that came around recently (I apologize to the creator but I’m unable to find it to source it) the aspect of human ability to survive anything and being utterly disregarding of their own safety was mentioned.
And that started this whole headcanon how thunderstorm season is considered this super dangerous weather on Palaven when turians would just stay home and wait the storms out.
Just imagine the crew back in ME1 stopping on Palaven:
“Sorry, Commander,” Garrus says, scanning reports on his omni-tool. “Calamitae season came early this year, we’ll have to wait out the storms here at the port for a few days.”
“What do you mean, when it’s raining, you don’t go outside?” Shepard asks.
“Calamitae is a bit more than just rain.”
Shepard goes to the window and looks outside. Dark grey and blue clouds fill the sky, boiling and rolling in the storms. Rain splashes against the windows and makes the mass effect fields swirl in blue circles at every impact.
“It looks just like the storms at home, when I was a child. Mindoir always had great storms.” Shepard has a faint smile on her face and Garrus watches her. The Commander doesn’t speak often of her childhood before the batarians attacked the colony.
“We just have to wait it out, Calamitae storms usually pass after a day.”
The Commander snorts. “I’m not staying inside just because it rains a bit.”
“It’s a storm, Commander. Turians have always waited out the Calamitae storms,” Garrus explains but he can see that he’s not convincing her. That grin is spreading on her face, that grin he has learned to fear.
“Oh please, we’re not hiding because of a little storm,” she says. “Hey, Alenko, what would you call this weather out there?”
“Canadian summer, Commander,” Alenko says without missing a beat. “A bit warm though.”
“Damn right. Put on your coats guys, we’re going outside.”
Garrus’ mandibles hang slack in disbelief as he watches the humans cover themselves and their gear with a hooded tarp and walk outside into the inferno of the Calamitae. They stomp forward like the storm is not trying to rip off their clothes, gear, and the skin off their faces.
They even sing and grin while they splash through the puddles on the ground. Garrus turns to the representative of the port authority, who is probably questioning his own sanity as he watches the humans walk through the storm.
“I need to borrow your environmental hazard gear,” Garrus says.
The turian looks at him wide eyed and trills in shock. “Yes, of course. It’s military grade. You should be fine.” He casts another look through the window. “Probably.”
“Spirits help me,” Garrus says. No wonder Shanxi had been such a disaster. Someone should have warned the turians that humans were crazy.
“I think Amy believed in Seth and wanted Seth and was very clear about it. She thought she had a chemistry with Seth, and obviously she did. And they arrived together. Their first show, both of them, was 9/11. So welcome to Saturday Night Live. There’s cops and Port Authority guys and firemen, and the mayor had been working down at Ground Zero, hadn’t been anywhere but Ground Zero, and walked into the studio with a thousand-yard stare. I’m with Paul Simon, who’s doing “The Boxer,” and the mayor is there and all the rest, and that’s Amy and Seth’s debut. I think they bonded really strongly at that. And I think she saw something in him; she knew they had something and she was right. She knew they could take that to another level.”
Today was meant to have been the first day of the rest of
your life. A happy day, you were escaping the clutches of your fanatically puritan
parents and beginning your life over again as the mistress of your own
However, as was usual, life had taken a very unexpected turn
for you. Just this morning you had awoken on board the ship expecting today to
be the day you made land and were reunited with your betrothed. The man who was
saving you from your father.
Instead as you walked the deck of the ship stepping over
bodies of the crew you’d gotten used to over the past few weeks you only
absently managed to note that there was blood all over the bottom of your new
very expensive lace dress.
It had all happened so fast that you didn’t really know what
had occurred. Other than screaming and the sounds of fighting and groaning you
had no idea how this had happened.
“Well well what do we have here?”
Jerking out of your daze you looked up into the face of a
man who was even more covered in blood than you were. Long hair hanging around
his face and a smirk on his mouth. Blue eyes staring down at you made cold
shivers ripple over your skin despite the Caribbean sun beating down.
“A little bird flying around a ship like this”
“What?… Who are you?” your voice was wobbly as you took a
small step backwards away from this man who was inciting such a reaction in
you. “What’s happening?”
The smirk got wider as he closed the gap between the two of
you once more with graceful ease. “Well sweetheart it seems we got more plunder
than we bargained for upon boarding this ship”
“Plunder?” a horrible thought skittered through your brain
lodging there uncomfortably. “Pirate. You’re a pirate”
“The best pirate pet” reaching out he ran a finger over the
lace shoulder of your dress. “Fancy dress like this must be worth a bit of
More and more men were rounding up around you and this
pirate, all of them wearing similar smirks and grins in relation to your
“Not as much as you want it to be”
He actually laughed at that, a gravelly sound that echoed
around your chest and through your body. “Well look at that, the kitten has
claws. What’s your name love?”
You didn’t know if it was wise to tell him who you were but
you couldn’t think of a better option at this point. “Y/N Y/L/N”
“Pretty name” he came forward one more step, now so close
that you could smell the sweat and blood coming off of his skin. “Captain
Charles Vane. It’s an honour to meet you love” he waved a hand around behind
him at the men surrounding you both. “This is the lovely crew of my ship, the
Ranger. Of which you’ve recently become a valued guest”
Well that did not sound good. You may have been sheltered
but even you had heard of the Ranger and its infamous crew of pirates. You also
knew that whatever the crew of the Ranger and more specifically its Captain
thought you were worth they were wrong. Your father had made it very clear when
you stepped onto the ship that you were no longer his responsibility and he
would have nothing more to do with you, especially not to pay a ransom to a
“You won’t get what you need off of me Captain Vane, or what
you think I’m worth to you”
Vane’s arm went around your shoulders and your muscles
tensed up as you were pulled along the deck of the ship to the railings where a
plank was placed.
“You better hope you’re worth exactly what I think love” he
whispered in your ear giving you a push as you stumbled over the plank and onto
a pirate ship.
Yeah, your life was definitely not going as planned.
You weren’t sure if you were a captive or not at this point.
You weren’t tied up and were free to roam around the small cabin you’d been
placed in. Of course, the door to the cabin was securely locked and you weren’t
going to try and leave this room.
It was a nice room, the best one on the ship. After all it
was the Captains own cabin and was therefore decadent to an indecent level.
The bed covered with throws of fur skins and silks. A large
wooden desk pressed against one wall with multiple papers and objects strewn
about the polished oak surface. Objects that the errant captain of this ship
had no doubt stolen on previous raids.
Captain Vane had dumped you here with that annoying smirk
still on his face about 3 hours ago. You’d heard the ominous sound of a lock
clicking in the door behind him and your heart had sunk in trepidation. You
were essentially a prisoner without chains.
Your ship should already have docked by now and as you
perched on the desk chair you wondered if your betrothed was worried about you.
The whole ship had essentially disappeared. The port authorities would expect
piracy and send out the royal navy ships, not that they would find much left.
Before the Ranger had left the crew had managed to sink the remains of the
What was going to happen to you now was a question you were
trying not to think about. The horrible thought of what Vane would do to you
when he realised he wouldn’t get the ransom he wanted from your father and you
were in fact worth nothing to him.
The lock clicking once more in the door sent you jumping to
your feet and fleeing to the back wall pressing your back against the wooden
Through the now open doorway Captain Vane appeared once
more, he shut the door behind him leaning casually against it with arms crossed
across his chest.
“Making yourself comfortable love?”
You watched him carefully, his posture was deliberately
relaxed and casual but you could see the hidden tension in his muscles. You
after all were very adept at reading male body language. You’d had to be living
with your father.
“Do I look comfortable?” you asked him with more sarcasm
than you’d thought you were brave enough to attempt. “I’m a captive on one of
the most notorious pirate’s ships known around the Caribbean. Would you be
He laughed once again the noise rumbled around the room
small cabin and threw goosebumps along your spine. Pushing off the wall he came
across the room to stand directly in front of you staring down into your face.
“Come for a walk love” it wasn’t a question or a request
instead he took your wrist in his grasp and yanked you forward. You stumbled
along behind the captain as he pulled you from the cabin along the narrow
corridor and out onto the deck of the ship.
You tried to ignore the fact that you could feel the eyes of
ever crew member following the path of you and their captain as he dragged you
up the stairs to the stern of the ship where the wheel was.
He pulled you in front of him pressing you against the
railing and holding you there with his hands on either side of your body.
You could feel the heat from his body warming your back.
“What do you want from me Captain Vane? I won’t get you the ransom you’re
hoping for. I promise you that”
“I’m curious love just what you think it is I’m hoping for?”
“A ransom…money” you questioned, when you got no reply from
Vane you twisted your head to look around at him. “What else could you want?”
“What else indeed” his face was incredibly close to your own
as his eyes flicked down to your hand and the large diamond currently resting
on your third finger. “That is a large rock sweetheart. But no wedding ring”
“Betrothed” you whispered.
“Ah young love. What a shame to keep you apart”
“I don’t love him” you didn’t know where those words had
come from or why in the world you had admitted that to this pirate captain, in
fact you didn’t even think you’d admitted that to yourself before. Now you’d
said it though you realised it was totally true. “I don’t know him well enough
to love him”
“An arranged marriage?” his voice was soft in your ear as
you’d gone back to staring out across the sea into the horizon.
“No, not arranged” staring out at the sea you thought of
your father’s face when you’d told him you were getting married. That you were
escaping from him. You faded into silence, this was quite possible the
strangest conversation you’d ever had with anyone before.
Vane’s hands moved from the railing to rest on your waist
and you tensed instantly. “We’ll be making land this evening. I’m sure you’ll
enjoy Nassau pet”
“Nassau? You’re taking me to Nassau?”
“Where else sweetheart?” he chuckled once more, one hand
moving from your waist to go to your left hand picking it up and holding it in
front of you. “Might want to lose the diamond sweetheart. It would be a shame
to see such a pretty girl lose a finger over a man’s ring she doesn’t even
With that stark warning ringing in your ears the captain
abruptly let go of you and melted away back into the ship, leaving you stood at
the railings with a rock as big as the diamond on your finger sitting solidly
in your stomach.
H’OKAY. SO. Last night we saw Dave Malloy as Pierre!! :D
We’d been planning this trip since they announced he was doing a series of shows–we knew we had to see him but we needed to make it work with timing and vacation days and stuff like that, so we ended up tagging this trip onto the front of my trip to Charlotte later this week, which inadvertently made it the first show after the Tonys, which we won’t talk about because I think I’ve made my saltiness on that front PRETTY CLEAR so far. With things working out the way they did, we decided that we should get a gift for Malloy to acknowledge how much this show has meant to us and that he won all the Tonys in our hearts. Initially I thought a plant was a good idea because flowers die and are also awkward to carry around. From there, my brain thought: well, we should put it in a box so he can just throw it in his bag. We should decorate the box. We should decorate the box to look like the theatre.
(At queer speed dating the other night, someone asked me which Parks and Rec character I most identify with. I said, “I feel like Ben Wyatt, but if you ask any of my friends, they’d say I’m Leslie Knope.”)
So, we decided all this on Monday night? So Tuesday was spent running around getting fabric and glue guns and putting all of this together. All of the little frames have pictures of members of the creative team. It’s PRETTY DARN CUTE, I’ve gotta say.
The entire day was a wild ride–we got the thing done just in time, then realized that my dad had taken my car keys with him so we were gonna miss the bus. Then he managed to get them to us in time for us to make the bus. Then the bus was stuck in traffic TWICE AS LONG AS USUAL. The florist was out of succulents and I had to run all over to find one. Literally run. I ran. With my legs and my lungs and stuff. It was the worst. But I managed to get to the theatre at 6:55 and use the rest room and get into my seat and chug a smoothie.