Thursday 2013-03-28, 12:00am
Memories of the Nassau Coliseum, Long Island’s now-crumbling arena.
Memories of the Nassau Coliseum, Long Island’s now-crumbling arena.
Twenty-three years ago I became a woman, in a way. This advent of femininity did not happen in a decorated ballroom or at a presentation about “protection” presented by the school nurse; it happened at a hockey arena on Hempstead Turnpike in Uniondale, New York, during the first rock concert of my lifetime. Because during this night—on which Warrant and Mötley Crüe played—I got to see Tommy Lee’s butt for the first time.
It’s the first week of 2013. Superstorm Sandy blew through two months ago. “The power’s out.” My son calls me at work to tell me this, and it all comes back—the cold, the dark, the days without power. I have flashbacks. My heart starts to do its palpitation thing and I reach into my bag for a Xanax even as I’m dialing the number for the Long Island Power Authority. “Your power will be back on by 11 a.m.,” a recorded voice assures me. I am not optimistic.