In 1987, when The Rocky Horror Picture Show was just a pre-teen, I was a 15-year-old virgin -- both in the RHPS sense of the word (i.e. having never seen the cult classic) and literally (i.e. having never done the deed).
Recently, a severe heat advisory was upon us in New York City, however for the unsuspecting patrons of a serene Chelsea café which normally tends to the urban chic, there was no warning that performance artist Kenyon Phillips was about to arrive.
There's a way out of this mess. It's an easy one, really, although it does require some suspension of disbelief on everyone's part. Just change the date on the floor of Congress. No, not the date on the bill, the actual date.
I'm so glad that I was part of the spark that ignited this eternal flame. I'm so glad I was there when it all began. It will forever prove to me that we can indeed rise like Phoenixes from the ashes of our own devastating personal events.