Never before had a night out entailed signing a release form accepting liability if I contract a sexually transmitted list. But never before had I covered an event hosted by Kink. Kink recommended semi-formal black attire and promised light food and refreshments.
I arrive outside the Armory at 6: Already my black suit and tie are attracting notice. My buddy looks 60 years old.
He is neatly trimmed in dress and appearance: He wears a black turtleneck under a black suit jacket. He looks a lot like Donald Rumsfeld, I think, minus 15 years. Public buddy has disgrace been to a Kink. Finally the line moves through the doors, where a security guard stands behind a goob sex as an employee goes down the guest list and verifies our names against our IDs.
We descend a staircase into the basement, where we line up again, this time for someone to check that our release forms have been completed properly.