Before It Disappears

The New York Times has an article in Sunday's Travel section that struck me as particularly strange. It's titled "Before it Disappears," and it talks about visiting endangered locations before they disappear once and for all. What with global warming, air pollution, and acid rain, the world is changing, and we're losing some incredible, one-of-a-kind spots. They mention the Galapagos Islands, the Arctic, and the Amazon, but all I could think of was, uh, dudes, did you miss the obvious?

Like, what about New York? It's losing its soul like Pete Doherty is losing teeth, but the Times is oblivious to that.

I mean, sure, it's sad the ice in the Arctic is melting. But every day another gay dive closes, to reopen as a dress studio run by some overprivileged white girl who's seen "Project Runway" twice. Maybe she's talented and really loves clothes, but no checkered dirndl is going to help us out when it's three in the morning and we need to be pounded like a nail.

Okay, it's awful that all the coral are dying in the Great Barrier Reef. But what about S&M clubs with torture racks? Both Hellfire and the Lure were replaced by upscale Italian restaurants. Now if we want to get abused we have to order decaf espresso at Starbucks.

And granted, the atolls in the Maldives aren't long for this world. But what about the Chelsea piers, a recently-demolished playground for homosex? Now where will we find a warehouse full of jock-strapped guys with paddles, and more steamed buns than you'd find at a Chinese bakery? Williams-Sonoma isn't open twenty-four hours a day, you know.

In short, all the "tourists of doom" should head straight for New York City before it's completely sanitized. And if they've got a ball gag, a raccoon suit, or an inflatable Abe Vigoda doll, they'll want to bring them along.

Before It Disappears