A Proposal for the Development of Governors Island

Last week, City and State officials announced the issuance of a "request for proposals" for the development of Governors Island. If you don't already know, Governors Island is located in the New York Harbor, approximately one-half mile from Battery Park, in Lower Manhattan and one-quarter mile from Brooklyn. In early 2003, the Federal government returned the Island to the State of New York, the City and the National Park Service for public use, after two centuries of restricted military utilization. Not knowing quite what to do with the land--or better yet, not wanting to pay for whatever will be done to it--the government is now accepting proposals for development schemes for this nascent piece of property.

To the hunters, the hounds, as they say. Governors Island represents one of the largest opportunities for real estate development New York City has seen in decades. As such, countless seasoned developers will no doubt come forward with proposals that will endeavor to turn the island into a veritable cash-cow. Some ideas for development that I've already heard include plans to make it into a family themed amusement park, to build an Indian casino complex, to build a large shopping center, or perhaps to even build residential housing. To the people pushing these ideas, I say this: why not be bold? Why not take this opportunity to rid this city of what some deem to be the "filth" that has plagued it for so long, while at the same time providing an isolated, controlled forum for those of us who just so happen to enjoy engaging in a little filth every once in a while. In other words, why not turn Governors Island into a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah?

Think about it: in certain parts of the city, drug use and violence is out of control. In other parts of the city (Williamsburg), recreational drug use is out of control. No doubt the City, State, and Federal government spend millions of dollars a year attempting to control these types of deviant behavior, but to no avail. So instead of wasting all that money trying to police such behavior, why not give people a limited forum in which they can so behave, and treat their respective bodies like the amusement parks they so desperately crave them to be--and at the same time, turn the island itself into an amusement park devoted entirely to that which makes this city so great--debauchery.

I only found out about this recently, and as such, haven't really thought out the logistics yet. Off the top of my head, however, here are some of the things that I envision:

Transportation: Getting to the island could be perhaps the most fun of all, on the "drinks spiked booze cruise." Like any other booze cruise you've been on, the minute you step foot on the ferry to the new Governor's Island (for which I have yet to come up with a good name (New Jack City was already taken)), a cup of punch will be given to you by a scantilly clad teenage girl (or on Thursday nights in the Summer, by Eva Gabor). Unlike other booze cruises you've been on (or perhaps like others you've been on if you were in a sorority), however, your drink will be spiked with either GHB or ruphenol, depending on what they have in stock that day. By the time you get to the island, you'll barely be able to walk, but more importantly, once you leave, you won't remember what happened to you. Which is all the more reason why, once you get there, to enjoy . . .

The No Strings Sex Arcade: Step right off the ferry and into the No Strings Sex Arcade, where you can opt to join in a game of Skee-ball, play a little Mortal Combat or Mike Tyson's Punch Out, or perhaps, engage in unprotected, anal sex with an anonymous partner who, if you are a guy, will allow you to get up and go watch-tv/eat a sandwich immediately afterwards without forcing you to "cuddle," and if you are a girl, will stay with you for the rest of your time on the island and will "really listen" to every word you say until the moment you leave, or until you pass out, and have to hitch a lift on . . .

Iggy Pop's Wild Ride: On this 1930's style choo-choo train that will quickly transport you to any of the 5 main stops on the island, a steady supply of amyl nitrate is constantly fed through the air conditioning/ventilation system. As such, even if you opted to take a dip in the "Grain Alcohol Aquifer" right outside Barb's Barbituate Parlor in downtown "Drugville," you'll perk right up after only a few seconds on the train. And who wouldn't need a little perking up prior to a visit to the . . .

Pavilion of Great Crackheads: Housed in Castle Williams, an actual fortress structure built in revolutionary times for use in fighting against the British (and that has since been deemed a national landmark), the Pavilion of Great Crackheads will be an interactive museum devoted to the greatest junkies and drunks of the modern era. Walk through a painstakingly rebuilt replica of the very hotel room in which Sid Vicious mainlined heroin and killed his girlfriend Nancy Spungen, where re-enactments of the crime take place every hour on the hour. If that's not your cup of tea, check out a real life David Crosby intervention, where you and your friends can take part in any one of 3 interventions, held daily, to get everyone's favorite former Byrd and the "C" in "CSNY," to stop freebasing coke, because, seriously, the guy must almost be seventy by now. And of course, don't miss out on the "Mona Lisa" of the museum, William Burroughs' famous half-eaten tuna salad sandwich on rye toast. If you're a fan of his classic if not nonsensical book "Naked Lunch," for which this very sandwich was the inspiration--or if you just like staring at 35 year old preserved foodstuffs--this, my friends, is the exhibit for you. And if it, by chance, makes you a little bit hungry, not to fret, head on over to . . .

The Food Court (for which I have yet to come up with a semi-clever yet actually stupid fake name): Here at the Food Court, relive past Halloweens spent in the suburbs by picking up a candy bar with a rusty razorblade in the middle. Or, try one of "Jerry's Famous Muffins," available in two flavors: "blueberry" and "LSD." If you're anything like me, however, you won't be hungry at all, having been "pulling your dinner from your pocket all night." If that's the case, jump on the Iggy Pop Express and head on over to the island's main staple . . .

Ibiza-burg: I know, I know, normally, you hate clubs as much as the next guy (unless the next guy is a cracked-out guido, in which case you hate them even more). On the new Governor's Island, however, you'll be too hopped up on amphetamines and firewater to give a hoot. That said, Ibiza-burg is not your regular club. Rather, it is 5 different clubs playing 5 different types of music--house, garage, techno, trance, and vapor--although all truth be told, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between any of these types of music even if you were sober--which you won't be, because someone will have just slipped you a mickey. Don't like to dance? Perhaps, but there's no question that you never get tired of scoffing at underage asian teenagers with pacifiers in their mouths and glow-sticks around their necks spinning in circles in apparent attempts to create large wind gusts that would blow their overly strict and protective immigrant parents back East. Feel free to laugh your sick, sadistic ass off all night. But if clubbing is just too "mainstream" for you, head on over to . . .

The Hipster's Hideaway: After all, what would a drug-themed island be without a haven for the hipster? Nothing, that's what. Even if you aren't wearing a ripped MGD t-shirt under a corderoy blazer--or are just wearing such duds to be "ironic"--you'll certainly enjoy the non-stop flow of Sparks and visceral self-loathing that this ceaseless crowd of trust fund babies turned agitated, indie-rock adoring folk bring with them wherever they go. Step into this bastion of self-consciousness housed in the basement of an abandoned poultry slaughterhouse, grab the energy drink of your choice, and rock out to the house band The Libertines-- fronted by everyone's favorite crackhead, Pete Doherty--reunited 5 nights a week for the low, low price of just a few grams of the china white and a used waterbed. Although the place shuts down at 5 am, don't worry, no one actually leaves. Instead, everyone just stands around with their heads hung low, trying to figure out where to go next without attracting too much attention. Of course, everone always ends up back at the No Strings Sex Arcade, because by that time the coke'll have worn out, and all the young dudes can get it up again.


Believe it or not, Governors Island was once used by the Lenape Native Americans tribe as a place to gather nuts and to fish. Now that the island is again up for grabs, I say, lets take it back to its native roots--except instead of being a place for people to gather nuts and fish, now it'll be a place for people to gather and imbibe assorted otherwise-illegal narcotics and have copious amounts of consequence free sex in an enjoyable, semi-safe environment. If you're intersted in helping me with my formal proposal for developing Governor's Island into the modern day Sodom and Gomorrah that I've been dreaming about since childhood, please let me know. Something tells me that putting together a formal response is gonna be difficult, so I'll be needing all the help that I can get--and I don't think this isn't the type of help that my shrink can give me.