Doing it Cross-Stitch Style

The holidays are a time of identifying our blessings and being thankful for what we have. We must leave old wounds behind in order to enter into the next level of consciousness. At this level, we endure several glances in the mirror making sure that the person we see is actually the person we want to be. Even more important, is the idea of liking ourselves...progressing to the point of loving ourselves. For me, reaching that point involves patience, love, and a double-cross stitch pattern.

On the phone:

Nando: What are you doing tonight?
Ali: Nothing.
Nando: Really?
Ali: Well, a lot of my other friends are out of town and since I'm going out tomorrow, I think I'll just go out for one drink tonight.
Nando: One drink doesn't exist in your world.
Ali: True.
Nando: I have something for us to do.
Ali: Great! What?
Nando: Listen to this—doesn't it sound like fun? Enjoy snacks while you stitch and embroider your own X-mas stocking at this free midtown sewing session tonight from 6-9pm.
Ali: What? 6-9? That's valuable drinking time. Plus, sewing sounds gay!
Nando: You ARE gay!
Ali: Yeah, but not THAT gay.
Nando: Trust me, YOU'RE that gay.
Ali: I don't do gay stuff.
Nando: You have sex with men, don't you?
Ali: Yeah, but that's for recreational purposes only.
Nando: C'mon, let's go. We'll meet interesting people and besides, it will be something new. And… you will be walking away with your very own Christmas stocking my friend. Don't forget about THAT little treat.
Ali: Like I care—I don't even celebrate Christmas Nando, I'm Muslim, remember? I could care less about stitching the Baby Jesus on a stocking… Although, do you think they have Rudolph the Red nosed reindeer patterns?

My loyal friend agreed to come along but as always, there was a catch. I had to supply him with alcohol. It was 5:00 p.m. on a New York Friday night. I left worked in search of a nearby liquor store; I couldn't help but notice all the Christmas cheer lacking in the city. People were shoving each other on the street, there was yelling, and one guy even knocked over a child as he was rushing past him-- what else could I do, the kid wouldn't move.

I entered the liquor store on the corner of 3rd Ave and 48th street. This was an expensive shop as I can usually get alcohol miniatures for $1.50 in my neighborhood and here the asking price of $1.75 was a bit exorbitant. Don't judge. The clerk posted behind the counter immediately attended to my needs and so did Clarisse, the wine-tasting girl--she wore a ponytail. As my items (2 Bacardi limóns, 2 Bacardi melons, and 2 Bacardi green apples) were being placed in a lovely brown paper bag, I sipped on some repulsive white wine offered to me by Clarisse. I asked for a second tasting just to make sure it was truly disgusting. It was. And by the third cup, it was really revolting.

I took the V train to Macy's Harold's Square on 34th street where I felt like a stranger. Not visiting this part of town since I purchased my snow boots a month ago, there was a beehive of activity taking place. Crowds gathered around the window displays at Macy's had their cameras working overtime. The air was thick, cold, and smelled of steamed weenies. The hot dog vendor on the corner of 34th Street was making a killing.

It was a perfect New York night. The tourists were out on the street pointing their fingers, digital and video cameras towards the Empire State Building, a group of NYPD officers were standing in a huddle drinking coffee and eating donuts. And I was on my way, taking my first steps to opening up a new world; a new level of creativity, a new level of exciting design options, a new level of "Gayness." And with that depressing thought, I popped open my Bacardi miniatures.

As I entered 147 W 35th Street and got off the eighth floor, I heard a voice calling to me. It was a familiar voice, an angelic voice; it was Whitney Houston's Christmas album track 8--jingle bells voice. I stumbled into suite 807 and to my surprise; I was the only male there, besides Gregory the hot male employee behind the counter. Everyone else consisted of wrinkles, orthopedic shoes, and huge sagging breasts--my future was before me. Gregory was a cross between a young George Michael (not the Wham years but the "I want your sex" version) and Adam Levine from Maroon 5. And when he walked up to me, I could smell his essence. It was as if I were breathing for the first time. His scent awakened my senses. It sent a pleasurable shock wave through my body, sort of what the homeless feel when they find a good piece of chicken in the garbage. His tempting fragrance lingered on his tall thin yet masculine body; it was a mixture of musk, lust, and Dr. Pepper.

Ali arrived at the "Sew Fast Sew Easy" studio and demanded alcohol. Gregory directed us into the sewing room filled with 20 intimidating sewing machines. We took two seats by the corner. I was stuck with an older model while Ali's eyes gleamed sitting in front of the Limited Edition Project Runway Innov-ís 4--a 40-Stitch Computerized Sewing Machine. A young hip instructor named Angela wearing a brown, yellow, and orange psychedelic dress came over to instruct us on using the machines. She coached and convinced us to practice sewing on left-over felt pieces and turning then into holiday cards; eventually moving onto the more complicated stocking.

My Muslim friend and I were the only men present and needed alcohol to feel at ease. The tiny bottles were hidden away from the innocent sewing circle and when no one was looking, we'd quickly pour them into our diet 7-up cans offered by the studio. The first 20 minutes of the session were spent cutting stocking patterns out of red and green felt.

Ali: This is boring. I want to sew already.
Nando: She told us we had to cut our patterns first, otherwise what are we going to sew together?
Ali: Oh, that makes sense. By the way, where are the cranks on these things?
Nando: What cranks?
Ali: The cranks, you know, how do they sew without cranking up the machines?
Nando: It's called electricity; you third-world idiot.

It was time. We switched on our machines and were set to sew. I could hear my heart pounding. I could hear an inner voice saying, "Go for it tiger!" I could hear the sounds of a sewer going crazy with their machine. I looked over and to my surprise; it was Ali creating a double-cross stitch pattern at the speed of light. His inner Korean sweatshop girl must have been ignited after the instructors speech on "How sewing can change your life." There was no stopping him. He was whipping through his patterns like an S&M porn whore.

Ali: (shouting with glee--and just for the record, this was the first time I have ever seen glee-induced shouting) Nando, LOOK! I did my first center-needle-stretch repeat-crossover-stitch. And look at my line, it's so straight.
Nando: Right about now, that's the only straight thing on you.
Ali: Don't forget to hit the back button on your machine when you're done, it will cross back over your last section in reverse in order to reinforce your work. See how my layers are...
Nando: (interrupting him) OK I get it! Just shut up and sew.
Ali: Nando, not to criticize your sewing technique, but your pressing to hard on your foot peddle and it's a delicate machine that doesn't require too much force.
Nando: Who ARE you?

Ali skipped phases two through four of the "So you decided to Sew" handbook. He was that advanced. I, on the other had, required special assistance inserting the thread through the needle. I blame the alcohol.

As I finally got the hang of my machine and was working my way through the recommended learning phases, Ali jumped up and ran over to the instructor to show off his felt Christmas card. The instructor, with passion in her heart and a plastic cup full of red wine in her hand, interrupted the session in order to expose Ali's creation to the class. They applauded. He sewed two strips of felt (one green and one red) on each side of his card. I, on the other hand, learned how to stop my machine from making a horrible shrieking sound.

Ali: (as he came back to his seat) This is so much fun! I can't wait to start on my stocking. The only problem is...I'm not sure if I will use a butterfly-stitch or the trickier three-step zigzag-rotating pattern.
Nando: Can I see your card?
Ali: Sure, here you go.
Nando: (in a jealous and evil tone) It looks like the Mexican flag, if you ask me.
Ali: (his face of happiness fell off) What? Noooo! It's Christmas! It's Christmas colors Nando! (Tears were forming in his eyes) Do you really think it looks like the Mexican flag? I was going to give this to Jay as a present. (Holding back tears and regaining his confidence) I think I'll sew a tiny stocking in the middle and that will clear any confusion.
Nando: How are things going with Jay?
Ali: Ah, they're going so well. I really like him. Did I tell you we went to see Cirque du Soleil's Wintuk?
Nando: Three times.

Although talking about the men we were currently dating while sewing Christmas stockings was not unusual for us, it was a new dimension we had entered. By the time I moved onto my stocking, I was bored--so I had the Pakistani Martha Stewart finish mine off and called it a night.

Nando: I'm glad you had fun. Next week we are going to a Christmas cooking class where you will learn to make your very own Bûche de Noël.
Ali: What's that?
Nando: It's a Yule log.
Ali: What's a Yule log?
Nando: It's a cake Ali, it's a cake!
Ali: Why can't you just say cake?
Nando: Is there any alcohol left?

Moral of the Story:
a. The holidays and various Bacardi products bring friends closer together.
b. When sewing a double over lock stitch, it's best to reinforce your ends.
c. I'm renewing my gym membership--if my future is to end up in a sewing circle, I will have the firmest breasts!


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Nando & The Popular Game