Pillow Fight Highlights

Waiting for the start signal, I am sitting on the steps. The girl next me is talking to her friend, but I am feeling gregarious and cut in.
Her: There’s a tent over there for trading confessions.
Me: How does that work? You just walk in there and start trading confessions with a total stranger?
Her: No, that would be a date.

At the whistle-blow, wading in to the fray, and hearing all of the laughter.

The strange combination of loopy fun and aggression. The pure dissonance of doing something you have only done at home, as a child and doing it outdoors, as an adult, with strangers, in a city where you are usually highly on guard. Knowing that not only are you not hurting anyone, you have their permission to hit them—a hole in the crowd happens, you look at each other, smile, and whale on each other.

Some guy and I are busting on each other when I feel some part of my arm make contact, it’s hard to tell where and how hard. But he says, “oh, that was below the belt, uh, I need to take a minute”. And I apologize, somewhat mortified. Then he yells “sucker!” and shanghais me. Excellent fake out, what a bastard!

I burst out of the fight circle onto the margins for a rest, and there’s a guy standing there. We look at each other and just go at it ferociously, hollering at each other
Him: “I’ll fuck you up!”
Me: “I’ll fuck you up with a fish stick!”
Him: “Hey, you have fish sticks in your pocket?”
Me: “No, I’m just happy to see you!”

Later his friend comes up and says her whacking action is being impeded by her tote and hand bags. I tell her I’ll hold them if she wants to go back in unencumbered. She looks at me and says, “OK, Complete Stranger!” being sorta sarcastic, like how retarded am I to think that she would let a total stranger in NY hold her purse. But know what? She did it. How cool is that?

Laughter. Tons of laughter. Could power Monsteropolis for decades.