SO. We decided to spend our anniversary where we had one of our first dates, all those years ago - the Un-American Film Festival. Its a festival of short indie films that are critical of the government, concerned about social justice, that sort of earnest thing. Plus bands and open bar and a great view of the fireworks. Sweet.

We were kind of broke, so we wanted to hit the open bar for as much as it was worth (if not more), so we arrived shortly after five. They were closing off that part of the river from people at 6, so it was a good thing we were early. As we walked in we found ourselves traveling alongside a girl who looked like a 13 year old fetus and a chick who may have been her mom or maybe her really old looking best friend. They were wearing day glow flower print dresses and jumpers and carrying tasty looking cupcakes. Interesting.

So we got in and had beers and settled ourself in some chairs and started enjoying watching everyone and getting tipsy. Everyone wanted the free beers, so the beer line was really long and we took turns going up. We watched people. The fetus and her mom(?) met up with an extremely motley crew of people that included a guy who looked like the love child of Rick Moranis and a hobbit, a girl who WISHED she were a lesbian librarian, a completely normal looking teen and a guy who was like, 27, with a freakily carved goatee and a semi-erect penis that was not at all concealed in the short and loose high school gym shorts he was wearing. For added style, the shorts had a hole right over the asshole and the guy kept wiping his dirty hands all over them. It became apparent that freaky hard on and the fetus were a couple? Jen wondered if perhaps they had met at a ren faire? But then changed her opinion. Local drama club seemed more likely.

There weren't enough bathrooms and we were getting rained on but we were having a great time. We kissed, Jen generously lent rain gear to the people in our vicinity, (including the mom (?)). We ate a really tasty australian thai chicken pot pie. We were in love.

Then it was just after 9 and the fireworks were going to start. I was on an interminable line for the bathroom, bonding with the people ahead and behind me. Jen had watched someone pee in her pants on the bathroom line earlier. The bathroom line fucking sucked. I was worried I was gonna miss the fireworks, but finally FINALLY I got to pee and hurried back to Jen, who was being really lovely and friendly to everyone. And that was when she realized...her wallet was stolen. Her wallet with all our tiny monies and her license and credit cards and MY license and credit cards and metro card and. everything.

We checked all around. Everyone helped us look. Retraced steps. All that bullshit. But it wasn't anywhere. Except in a THEIF'S POCKET. Well fuck you theif. We had 23 dollars and maxed out credit cards. Good luck with that.

It was all pretty horrible at the time. Tears. Recriminations. I tried to be supportive, but I did end up being an ass. We left while the fireworks were still booming and booked it across town, fighting all the way. People from the east river to 7th Ave were treated to a free performance by the Lesbian Histrionic Travelling Theatrical Troupe (of Two).

We got a subway home, cards were cancelled, strong drinks were had, and sad hugs, and eventually, grumpily, we went to bed.

In the morning, we woke up and the emotions reemerged as we investigated how to get new IDs and cards and all that bullshit. But we worked past it. Sang some Dolly Parton songs together. We went downtown, filed a police report, did a great deal of grocery shopping with one of Jen's remaining credit cards and calmed the fuck down. My mom took us to dinner. Everyone pities us.