Remember a couple of summers ago when the Northeastern U.S. experienced that big blackout that took out power to most of the major cities in the region?

Well, I surely do. I was living in New York at the time. Queens to be exact. I had a little shitty one-bedroom apartment in one of those 18-floor slumlord dens. I had just moved to the city after high school and was working waiting tables while I tried to develop my ‘music career’. Anyway, I was really struggling to make ends meet, so my home didn’t have a lot of the ‘amenities’ that other apartments have.

One of these such luxuries was air conditioning, so I had become accustomed to sweltering in the New York summertime heat. I don’t think people who haven’t lived here really understand how hot it actually gets in the city in late July and August. Think about it. 8 million people piled on top of each other, all living in a giant asphalt jungle. It’s one great big sweatbox.

Well, like I said, I was pretty used to the heat. But my one reprieve from the overbearing warmth radiating up from the pavement and bearing down from the sun overhead was the fire escape outside my bedroom window. At night, I would just sit out there in a little rickety lawn chair, drink a mojito, and listen to the sounds of the city buzzing around me.

It had that raw romanticism to it that only a starving artist yearns to experience. At that time, I was dating a handsome Italian guy named Giuseppe. Giuseppe appreciated my idealism, and shared openly in my ‘minimalist’ way of life.

Well, the night the lights went out, me and Giuseppe were sitting out on my fire escape, wedged in on those little lawn chairs, and sipping gingerly at out sweet rum drinks. It was a night like any other of the dozens of nights we’d spent out there doing the exact same thing, except, of course, for one major difference – the complete lack of light.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a darkness quite like that. We had lit a few candles out on the fire escape to light our little makeshift balcony, but without that light, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. With no lights, and the buildings blocking out or swallowing up what little moonlight tried to peek through the clouds overhead, the city had fallen into total and complete pitch black.

After a few minutes of admiring the shear awe-inspiring quiet of the darkened city, Giuseppe sparked the idea that we could pass the time until the power came back on by fooling around inside.

I told him it was way too hot in there for that and that I didn’t want to have to go down to the Laundromat tomorrow to wash my sweat-stained sheets.

Countering my argument, Giuseppe suggested that we just stay out on the fire escape. At first I was a little apprehensive, but when I thought about it for a bit, I realized that there was no chance anyone could see us.

He blew out the candle on his side of the escape and I blew out mine. And then, there in the darkness, we clumsily groped about to find each other while our eyes tried to adjust to the lack of light.

Giuseppe kissed me in one of those long, deep passionate kisses that you