I would suggest not peeing while holding
a glass of water. It can be very distracting.

A Night In The Life of Rebecca Fogelstein

It has been a strange couple of days. The strangeness
began Friday night-Friday the 13th. First, I let my
'yet to graduate from hair school' younger sister color
my hair. She wanted me to go darker in shade. I was
all game for it until the color turned our really, really
dark making me look as if I should be hanging out at
the cube at Astor Place with my little pack of blinking
tongue ringed goth buddies.

Despite the hair fiasco, I plunged forth into the night.
I was already late to hear my friend Dana's band play.
I jumped in a taxi and when it came time to pay I
reached down in my bag only to discover I'd not
only forgotten my wallet but also my ID to get into
the place. 'Fuck!' I yelled to no one in particular.

Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly noticed a
glimmer from the seat next to me. I look down and
what is there but a woman's red leather wallet with
a silver buckle. I quickly opened the wallet, paid for
the cab (YES-I put the money back later when I
returned it the next day) and dashed out the cab to
join the line of hipsters waiting outside the club.

"ID Please." said the huge bouncer with a flashlight.
"Um�here you go." I said rummaging through the wallet.
I quickly look at the drivers license of a girl with wavy
dirty brown hair, a round face and thick black eyebrows.
It wouldn't have been a total stretch hadn't it been for my
new goth look but I was desperate.

"Ok�who do we have here�Rebecca Fogelstein�you
live near Flatbush Ave huh?'
"Um�yup I do." (heart thumping)
"Do you like the neighborhood? I live over there."
"Yes�fantastic neighborhood. Just moved there."

I was sweating and my eyes were darting. As many of
you know I am a HORRIBLE liar. I always have been.
Instead of just saying a co-worker was 'on another line'
the other day I said she was 'out getting pizza.'

'Ok Rebecca. Have fun tonight' the guy winked and
let me in.

When I got in the club I called and left a message for
Rebecca Fogelstein. She wasn't home. The rest of the
night I was only called 'Rebecca Fogelstein' by all my
friends. I felt like a new woman. The hair, the ID. As
we drank beers and smoked cigarettes, we each took
a turn to look at the wallet and get a glimpse inside
the mind of this mysterious personality. From her
buisness cards we discovered she was a holistic
nutritionist. We found a card for a physic healer. We
discovered that she had overnighted a package to
Mexico on Monday and that she had the home
number of one Lieutenant Jay Robert Fuller.

At the end of the night at around 2:00am, I went
up to get one last round for everyone.

'ID please.' Said the bartender.
'No problem!' I said a little too loudly.

The bartender took the ID. She looked back at me.
She looked back at the ID. She tapped a fellow
bartender on the shoulder and pointed at me. He
shook his head laughing as in 'no way'. She walked
back over to me and said, 'Honey�let's face it�this
is SO not you.'