Cruising in NYC

It always feels like a free-for-all driving in New York. Whether it's the Henry Hudson (9A), the Cross Bronx, the infamous BQE or the LIE, and forget about the Long Island parkways, it always feels like a mad dash for the goal line, a race to an unending finish or something from an improbable action film where the hero comes so close but never quite gets rear-ended or makes a wrong move and puts the nose of his car into a wall. That is until today, where I was driving just over on the New Jersey Pike, dreaming about the Sopranos theme song looking at the industry of Perth Amboy or whatever is over there west of the Hudson and out of nowhere, Wham... ok it wasn't a truck or a car that hit me. A rock the size of a golfball flipped up into the air from atop a small truck and smashed a small indentation into my windshield, breaking the glass and starting the dreaded spiderweb. My surprise, fear and eventual anger almost got the better of me, but I regained composure and leveled the car back in my lane and drove on. Everytime I have driven in NYC, I fear the worst and this time, although not the worst, it was certainly an inconvenience. Broken windshield in all, I lugged into my location and wiped it from my mind and dove into work.

Life is elusive

I came dangerously close to receding again in the shoadows this friday night but I decided to pull myself out of it and convince my brother and his girlfriend to go to a local bar overlooking the waterfront of RI. We had a few Sam Summers or Mojitos, chatted quietly at a plastic table and then decided mutually that our time would be better spent somewhere else, perhaps home. This is not before the crowds of moron meat-heads and chicken-heads invaded the bar and polluted the sounds of pleasant sea breeze and gentle waves crushing the rocks at the seashore with banter of the brainless, worthless drivel. And I know, because I was trying to listen. I was trying to listen to what these obnoxious fools could possibly be spewing besides their self-indulging aura.com

When leaving, my brother's girlfriend said to me, "This is really not my crowd."
I nodded and thought as I gazed back towards all the patrons gathered on the rooftop deck and could recall the few times I frequented this place as a college student and as a recent grad combing the ranks for potentials. And I realized that this wasn't my crowd anymore either. Image isn't everything.

July 4 on a Wednesday

Independence Day is synonymous with BBQ, cookouts, outdoor drinking, lawn sports and time off. When we get Independence Day on a Wednesday you get a day off in the middle of the week, hardly a relaxing bloc of days. Think about it. If the 4th falls on a Monday or Tuesday you get a long weekend that ends with a day of sun, food and drink with the festivities thrown in. If it falls on a Thursday or Friday the weekend is kicked off by a full day of party and then the rest of the weekend to duplicate. With a wednesday, its not worth expanding either weekend by taking two days off, before or after and therefore, the 4th just sits alone, with only the weight of one measley day to celebrate our nations' founding. Have fun and remember to call a cab if you have too much because the boss may not look kindly to an unplanned vacation day by reason of the ol' slammer.