Throwed Rolls and Cowboy Whores (NSFW) (Not really.. but there are nipples)

I set off from San Francisco, emotions and thoughts veering wildly in every direction at once, but my car firmly planted and pointing straight towards Vegas. Of course. Where else would I go when all else fails and I am down to my last few bucks? That last great American desert oasis of hope. Where dreams come and go but the stench of desperation clings and suffocates. Well, speaking for myself, anyway. But seriously, it was great to see Dan and Kash and the rest of the guys again. I am proud to say that I got Kash re-hooked on poker... he once was lost, but now he's found.

After Vegas I headed to a place I was sorry to have missed on my way out west... Tombstone, AZ. I've always wanted to go to an old cowboy town and this is probably the granddaddy of them all. Land of Earp and Holliday, the Clantons and the OK Corral, the Crystal Palace Saloon and Boothill. Stuff of legend and many, many movies. I mosied down the main drag for a while before I siddled up to the bar at Big Nose Kate's Saloon, formerly the Grand Hotel built in 1881, now named after Tombstone's first and most famous "shady lady". The BBQ sandwich was tasty and the Sioux City Sarsaparilla was.. um.. good and sarsy. Plus, there was some really cool paintings and stained glass work in the room. When I get my own whore house someday, this is how I want it to look. I mean, I know they just took a lot of these ideas from Better Whore House Living magazine, but still... pretty cool.

After lunch I swung by the OK Coral and Boothill... although I was just a leeetle too cheap to pay to go inside them. I got the idea from the outside. I spent most of the morning just wandering the streets wishing I was wearing a cowboy hat and a six shooter. I weren't looking for no trouble but I also had no intention of backing down from none, neither. Anybody looked at me crosswise and I'd shoot 'em down where they stood. In my brain I was your Huckleberry.. either a sheriff, a bad guy, or a mysterious hired gun, it didn't really matter. I had my horse (a fine black Korean-born filly) hitched nearby and I was ready to take all comers and ride off into the afternoon haze, vanishing like a spectre, leaving the townsfolk to wonder whether I was real or a phantasmagorical instrument of retribution sent from the heavens...  It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. Take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have. Well, that's how it went down in my brain, anyway. With apologies to Clint for stealing his lines and persona.

From Tombstone it was a relatively short drive to El Paso, where I got to see Margaret and Mia again. They are doing great and looking well and as I write this Mia has just graduated from second grade and is smarter than all of us. We had awesome Mexican food at Margaret's favorite place, Lucy's Restaurant, where I mistook an overturned pool table for some kind of new, or possibly archaic, bar game I was unaware of. In the moment, as I fiddled with what turned out to be the legs of the table, trying desperately to figure out what they did, I genuinely had no idea it was just a pool table on it's side. Even after Margaret laughed at me I still didn't catch on right away. It must have been that my mind was exhausted from being on the road... yeah, that's the ticket.

Next up was a stop I had been excited about since I saw Pee Wee's Big Adventure in 1985... The Alamo! I'm not sure I ever really knew what exactly happened there until recently, but the words were always iconic in my mind. THE ALAMO. I could not drive through Texas and not stop for a look see. Turns out it is right in the heart of downtown San Antonio and it is smaller than you might imagine but, you know, still old and historic and stuff. Davy Crocket wasn't there, but his statue was. And they still sell coonskin caps in the gift shop. I stayed the night in San Antonio and also walked along the famed River Walk. This is a mall and a bunch of other shops and restaurants along a below-street-level river, again right in the heart of downtown. It's quite the happening hang out. I had a fine walk and some genuine tourist trap quality Tex-Mex fajitas before retiring for the evening.

The next day, somewhere between San Antone' and Houston, I saw a sign for Joel's Bar-B-Q. Well, obviously I had to do this. There's a picture of Foxy at Joel's. Sad to say the sandwich was mediocre, but the place had that middle of nowhere Texas charm and was clearly a favorite with the locals. I personally witnessed two separate big ol' country fat asses slugging beers and ribs before driving off in their pick-ups. So, if you're ever in wherever-the-hell-I-was, TX, stop by my joint for some good people watching and some totally average food. It's not like there are many other options.

From Joel's it was a long, slow drive to Biloxi, MS (who knew it was spring break and that everybody and their mothers was driving to New Orleans and thereby clogging up my road?). I checked into my hotel, completely dog-ass tired but determined to get me some hot casino action before bedtime. I took a shower and set off to find the Beau Rivage casino, which has a reputation for being the Bellagio of the Gulf Coast. Well, once I started to walk the casino, it took me about a minute to realize that Biloxi is basically inbred hillbilly bizarro Vegas. I mean, no offense. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I guess having lived in Vegas, I'm spoiled, but to me Biloxi was just not that exciting. Everybody else (the inbred hillbillies) seemed to be having a good time, but this was not the place for me. Hey, good for them for recovering from Katrina, though!

The next day was a short one, as I made a pit stop only a couple hours from Biloxi, in Robertsdale, AL, where my dad's cousin Sandy lives. As they might say in Alabama, he's kin. And kin is kin. Sandy and his wife showed me a great time, actually.. including a memorable trip to the house of throwed rolls and fried okra, Lambert's Cafe. And by "throwed rolls" they mean exactly that. Periodically throughout your meal a waiter will circle the room pushing a cart full of big, fresh from the oven, steaming hot and yeasty pull-apart dinner rolls. The smell will catch you first; then you'll hear the waiter's call; then you'll see people raising their hands, so you'll raise yours, too; than the waiter, across the room and wearing an oven mitt, will grab up a roll from the tray, wind up like a baseball pitcher, and hurl a sinking fastroll right into your outstretched hands. The roll is so fresh that as your hands squeeze around it to secure your catch, bits of bun will break off and go flying, so that by the end of your meal the floor will look like two vast armies of bread soldiers just had an epic battle. After you have secured your roll, still reeling from trying to understand what just happened, another waiter will come around with a big jar of apple butter and you will say 'yes please'. And this dance will repeat itself at least three times before you go. These rolls are damn good. The fried catfish, aforementioned fried okra, fried potatoes and onions, and fried apples were outstanding, too. Plus, they were fried.

Well, I guess that about wraps up this story. I spent the night in Alabama, then the next day cruised on into F-L-A and the rest is history. My past has now caught up with my present. If not yet in real life, at least in the blogosphere.

Ch. 6a - The End of the Beginning (Thank You!)

So, my Hyundai and I have arrived in San Francisco safe and sound.. I didn't get any tickets or flats along the way and I saw a lot of strange, beautiful things, including a lot of my favorite people in the world (we all of us are strange and beautiful, don't you think?). In short, this post and this blog is dedicated to them... THANK YOU!!! Whatever it is that I have done, I couldn't have done it without you.

Thank you Mitch; Aunt Lorrie; Becky, Chris, Brendan, and Doolin O'Brien; Margaret and Mia and Margaret's Grandma; Dan and Kash; and Danie and Jesse. Also, thanks to my New York cousins, Sara and Ellie, and my New York friends Justin and Laura, all of whom offered and would have been glad to let my unemployed ass sleep on their couches before I left. Thanks, too, to my parents, Aunt Arlie, Uncle Stan, Uncle Bob, Buba, Grandma and Grandpa, and all my family in Florida who gave me their continual moral support. I may end up sleeping on their couches one day too, and they'll be more than happy to have me, I know that.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I love you all, and if I ever get a couch of my own, you know you have a place to stay in San Francisco..

In geographical order, from east to west, here are all the homes, rooms, or view from the homes I slept in along the way; my homes away from home:

Looking back on this blog I realize that how I chose to tell my story had a lot to do with where I was at the time I actually got down to telling it.. all the places you see above. History is always presented through the prism of the present I guess, this is nothing new, but even my own past is constantly changing in my mind as I look back on it. Maybe someday I'll rewrite this story entirely and come to wildly different conclusions.. or maybe I won't. Until then, this is only 'the end of the beginning' of the second (or is it the third? fourth? Whatever.) metaphorical book of my life. I don't know how it will all end. But it had to start somewhere.

Ch. 5 - The Thing of It Is

Leaving El Paso was hard for me. I mean, how could I leave all that Mexican food! But seriously, saying goodbye to Margaret and Mia is always tough and doesn't seem to be getting easier. I guess it's not supposed to. Oh well, as I drove away I was forced to console myself with thoughts of how much money I was going to win in Vegas. Man, I love to gamble! There, I said it, and I don't care who knows it! Anyway, besides the gambling (it's progress that I'm allowing for the possibility that there is anything besides gambling, right?), I was anxious to see my friends that are still in Vegas. It had been only just over a year since I left, but I swear "the Vegas era" feels like a different lifetime to me now. So much (and yet, so little) has happened since I lived there.. and I can hardly believe that I lived there for four years! I can't imagine living anyplace for that long now. Operation Wanderlust is in full effect, people.

Nevertheless, I was driving to Las Vegas for the second time in my life and I could hardly wait to get there. The siren song of Vegas is strong and relentless - to me it sounds like chips being shuffled at the poker table. My friends Dan (another person from Texas, a Jew from Texas at that) and Kash were letting me stay on their futon for as long as I wished.. My plan was to make my big score and get while the getting was good. I just about stuck to the plan, too. But before I even got to Vegas, I had to make a stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere Arizona to see... THE THING!!!

Once again I was sucked in by mile after mile of billboards for a tourist trap, this one simply stating in big bold letters on a yellow sign that I must "see the Thing!" Naturally, they do not tell you what the "Thing" is.. marketing genius. "The Thing, what is it?" as another of the billboards read. Will it be scary? Will it be gross? Will it be human? Will it be lame? Most assuredly, yes, it will be lame, but there is only one way to find out.. stop and "see the thing!" So, I stopped, payed my $1 (even this price hurt me to pay) to go behind the closed door in the back of the convenience store, walked along the path to what I was told is just the first of three (!) buildings holding the thing, opened the creaky door to what looked like a big metal shed, and... I almost don't want to ruin the mystery just in case you ever find yourself driving from El Paso to Las Vegas... but, here's the thing about the "thing":

Yes, that says that this car was believed to be Hitler's car.. "The THING of it is, it can't be proved." So, yep, lame-o. The rest of the "exhibits" in the sheds were similar: old horse-drawn carriages, old Coke machines, old guns, old torture devices with mannequins staged to show how it was done. OK, the place did get weird after a while and I realized it would be completely creepy at night.. a great setting for some horror movie where stupid white teenagers get axed by the local ax-murderer. Come to think of it, while on the surface this place was nothing more than a cheesy conglomeration of leftover crap from bygone eras, I think it was actually more than the sum of its parts.. Anyway, I know I personally couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Onward to Sin City. This was the longest leg of my trip, over 12 hours, and I was dog ass tired when I finally rolled into the valley. Still, I got that old familiar feeling of excitement as I looked down on the city lights glimmering in the desert night, and, just like any good tourist, I felt I needed to cruise the strip from Mandalay Bay to The Sahara. And cruise I did, windows down, arm hanging out, inhaling deep breaths of the gambling mecca of the world.. smelled like victory.. and chlorine from the Bellagio fountain. The traffic was still bad on the strip, a good sign for the economy I suppose. I was a little worried there was gonna be no one there from the horror stories I had been hearing. Anyway, I saw some new buildings and enjoyed my cruise, but I also quickly realized that a year away was not enough for me to find the strip newly exciting upon my return. In fact, just the opposite was true. I returned with a new perspective and, alas, the magic of Vegas may be gone for me now. Not to sound elitist or snobby (I promise I am nothing if not a common man), but it all just seemed so fake to me now. Of course, The Strip always has been nothing but artifice designed to distract you while you lose the family nest egg, and I can appreciate how well it does just that. But the total lack of anything, you know, real was just so apparent to me now and it was already starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Don't get me wrong, I still think Vegas is a great and necessary place, and I think a lot of other cities would benefit by adopting some of the things Vegas does right: everything's open 24 hrs, food and drinks are mostly available for cheap, big beautiful bowling alleys are abundant and games are $1 after midnight. Vegas is a fantastic place to visit, but it's hard for me to imagine living there anymore. The stimulus overload is just too much.. which is weird considering I just came from New York freakin' City, but Vegas has a whole different set of stimuli. I guess it's fairly obvious, but I see now how it might not be the best place for one's mental or physical long term health.

Nevertheless, I wasn't planning on being there long term and I had a lot of lost poker time to make up for.. I wasn't gonna let a little bad taste in my mouth stop me from mainlining as much hardcore Vegas action as my system could handle in a week! But first, I needed Del Taco and sleep.

Ch. 4a - Rosa's Cantina

Down in the west Texas town of El Paso... I saw two of the most beautiful people in the world. For that is where my friends Margaret and Mia live. Mia is Margaret's daughter, for anyone who doesn't know. I met them in Las Vegas, then they moved to Jersey, then I moved to Jersey, then they moved to El Paso, then, as you know, I decided to quit my job and go on a month long road trip, zig-zagging my way cross-country. It had been almost a year since I'd seen them and there was no way I wasn't gonna zig (or was it a zag?) through El Paso. Plus, I had never been in Texas (except the airports.. everyone has a layover in Houston or Dallas eventually) and it had been far too long since I had had good Mexican food! I rolled into town at dusk and we met at one of Margaret's favorite Mexican restaurants right off the bat.. she knew what I wanted. Holy god, the food was so good! Jersey and New York just do not have this kind of stuff. Oh, and it was pretty damn awesome to see Margaret and Mia, too!

There's Mia, she's seven and couldn't be more pretty, smart, funny, loving, or toothless. We had a great time watching TV, building forts with couch cushions, playing train, bowling, and playing on the playground at her school. I had sure missed her. More than just a good kid, she really is an amazing person and I am so glad that she and her mom are happy and living in a great place in El Paso.

As for El Paso, like the T-shirt said, it ain't Kansas, and that's a good thing. It's a really pretty town, I thought, yet not like I pictured it at all. It is a desert, but it has mountains that run right through it and give the neighborhoods a more interesting texture. It is a sister city to Juarez, Mexico, which you can see right across the river and the Border Highway, marked by a giant Mexican flag, a flag I'm told is the world's biggest.. who knew? By the way, if you ever go to El Paso, do not go to Juarez.. ever. It is pretty much the center of one of the largest drug cartel gang wars in Mexico, and therefore the world. It's sad, but I repeat, it is not a place to go.. ever.

There is a place you must go, however, if you ever find yourself in Texas: Whataburger! I have many friends from Texas (everybody in Vegas was from freakin' Texas it seemed) and they all talk about Whataburger as if it is the holy grail of burger joints. I have had many a fast food burger (some say too many, I say that is impossible) and I was always skeptical of the supposed greatness of Whataburger. I've had In N' Out, how much better could this place be, really? Well, by golly if those Texans don't know of what they speak.. Whataburger was purty dang delicious! Maybe I was just super hungry when I had it, but I swear the burger was at least as good as In N' Out, the fries were better than McDonald's, and even the ketchup was somehow better than typical Heinz. I was impressed and vowed to get another one before I left (a promise I kept with great enthusiasm). My only complaint about the place is how the name is pronounced; everyone in Texas says it like they are saying "water-burger," not "what-a-burger". Why is this? No one could explain.

The second big tourist stop on my visit was the El Paso Saddleblanket. All along the highway heading into El Paso were billboards insisting that I come see the Saddleblanket world headquarters, where I would find untold quantities of western... well, stuff. I didn't really know what the hell was gonna be there but I knew I wanted to go.. I like all things western; in fact, I always wanted to pretend I was a cowboy. Actually being a cowboy would probably suck, but pretending to be a cowboy could be ideal. Anyway, the Saddleblanket turned out to be a huge complex of wholesale stores selling everything from big Texas style ranch furniture to Mexican trinkets, pottery, and jewelry to actual saddle blankets and other horse tack. It was an impressive display and the prices were good, too.. I bought my T-shirt and a couple cowgirl bags for the girls and mosied on out of there.

The final highlight was a genuine Texas steak dinner at The Edge of Texas, a cool old restaurant (formerly a whorehouse, seriously) outside of town on a real working 88,000 acre ranch... Yeeee-Haw!! We had us some genuine Texas steer and, let me tell you what, it was mighty fine. Mighty, mighty fine. And the big open sky as evening fell is what Texas is all about in my city-slicking mind.. seeing that every night would be the good part about being a real cowboy.

But, of course, the best thing about El Paso is that my friends are there. They'd probably be the best part of whatever town they were in, I think. Not only was it beyond-words great to see them, but I love that I got to see with my own eyes all the places and people that they've been telling me about for years.. I can really visualize their stories now. "Hey," I can say, "I know where 'that' (whatever they're talking about) is!" I like being able to say that.

El Paso was the fourth stop on my journey.. I still had one more to make. Late September and the only thing between me and the coast was Vegas, baby... Vegas.

Ch. 4 - A New Hope

It was a dark and stormy morning when I drove south, away from Denver and towards my next stop in El Paso. I was super excited and absolutely couldn't wait to see Margaret and Mia... but the storm clouds were gathering literally and metaphorically. As I climbed to over 7,000 ft (talking my car through it all the way.. she did fine) I began to worry. Not just about the weather, but about this whole cockamamy scheme of mine.. just what exactly was I doing out here driving, driving, driving across the country? It was now late September, I had been on the road about 3 weeks, and at the moment it began to snow, I couldn't have given you a good answer to that question. As documented, I had my reasons for moving (they seemed valid at the time) and I had had a great time in Denver, but now I was in a cloud of funkiness. Maybe it was just being alone with my thoughts for the first time in a week.. maybe life on the road was finally catching up to me physically.. could I handle the rest of this trip? More to the point, what was I gonna do and how was I gonna do it, when I got to San Francisco? I guess I had thought about it in the past, but not really. Up until this point I had done a pretty good job keeping myself in a deep dark pit of denial.. which I think I had to do as a defense against wussing out and not taking this trip at all. I hadn't been fearless, only willfully clueless. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself here, but I felt like the ostrich with his head buried in the sand. Now, as I ascended the mountains, I was also climbing out of my state of denial into the harsh, depressing light of re-fucking-ality. Jeebus. I was a little freaked out.

The snow was no big deal, though, and the freaked out feeling didn't last long either. As I came through the other side, the weather cleared and the heat of the truth began not to burn quite as much. I thought and thought and thought (and talked and texted while driving.. don't tell anyone) and I began to come to terms with my new worries. This line of thinking was inevitable.. and ultimately, probably, necessary and healthy. I'd be forced to confront these questions sooner or later, why not now? So, I confronted the best I could. There were still a lot of things unknown and unknowable until I got to where I was going.. that was just gonna have to be OK for now. For this plan to work I must stay positive and "keep moving forward" (as Mia and I now know from watching Meet The Robinsons while I was in El Paso). I convinced myself anew that everything would be alright and thus my freak out ended, without any real answers, but with a renewed peace of mind and hope for the future.

I admit that the title for this chapter in the blog occurred to me long before any of the other posts were even written. If you don't get it, congratulations, you are not as much of a dork as me. I was determined to use it no matter if it fit the subject matter or not, hell or high water... as it turned out, it was the perfect title and sums up in three words what I have just rambled about for two paragraphs. Oh well. May the force be with you.

All's quiet on the eastern front

So, it's been a while. I make no excuses, even though I have many. But today I have called out sick and I am watching the snow fall outside my window.. I got nothing but time to think and blog. It's snowing a lot.. like a foot! That's just overkill.. an inch or two and I think we all get the idea, any more than that is just unnecessary. Oh well, whaddya gonna do?

Since my last blog I had a birthday and it is now 2009. I often think about how we will be thought of in a hundred years. Think about how we think of people who were alive in 1909, and born in the 1800's... Like they were almost in a completely different world. Will that be how we are thought of by people in 2109? It's weird. We like to think we are the center of the universe and the most advanced generation ever.. but we're just a passing fancy in the grand scheme of things. Wow, this cold medicine is some good shit.. blowing my mind!

But all that is kinda pointless to think about.. All we can do is live our lives the best we know how in the age we're given. We must do the best we can for ourselves and our loved ones. That's enough for me.

To that end, I am doing OK. They laid off a bunch of people at work... but not me. It's been cold and snowy.. but last week it was 60 and sunny for a day and I hit golf balls. I am reading more than I ever have... the train is good for something. I have now watched all of The Sopranos on DVD... "when in Jersey..". Margaret and Mia moved away and I miss them a lot.. but they're happy and safe in El Paso and I couldn't be happier and thankful for that!

So, it had been a while, but now I'm back on the blogging wagon.. or is it off the wagon? And now a few pictures from the last couple months: (Links to more pictures on the right)
My best snow man so far.. a fine hood ornament. $21 plate of pretty lousy latkes from the Stage Deli.. It was Chanukah and I was desperate. The rocks of Sea Bright, NJ, my most recent daytrip.. about an hour south on the Jersey Shore.

Well, that's all I got for now.

So, This is Fall... Weird.

Fall in New Jersey and New York is real, people! Before now I had never seen an actual season besides summer and maybe one week of winter, at best. It has been nice, as you can see in the pictures of Central Park.. the leaves really do change colors. And then they fall.. hey, I get it now! But... I fear for the coming cold. What is this Florida-by-way-of-Vegas dude gonna do? I really have no idea. Margaret showed me how to wear a scarf, I bought some long underwear, which I figured out how to wear on my own, and I ordered some gore-tex shoes online. I will have the gear, but will I have the will?


Otherwise, a lot has happened the last few weeks, some good, some bad, some meh. I have had some of the best days and some of the worst.. sometimes they were the same day. See what I did there? I will try to catch up on the ol' blog soon.

Enough to say that I deeply miss my two favorite people in New Jersey, but knowing they are happier makes me happy.

No Sleep 'till Brooklyn

Today was a really good day. I got my new couch in the morning (a queen size sleeper for anyone who wants to visit West Orange) and took a trip to Brooklyn with Margaret and Mia in the afternoon. No amount of traffic would stop us from having a great time (this is easy for me to say, since Margaret did the driving, but I think she would agree). Even before either of us moved out here, we planned on going to the New York version of our favorite Vegas clothing store, the Buffalo Exchange.
After a few wrong turns and a GPS swap, we made it to the store in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. It was just OK. A little small and a little snooty vibe made it not as good as the other Buffaloes. Still, we can all say we've been there now and we have the picture to prove it. We found a few things there and worked up an appetite for lunch and our back-up shopping destination...Beacon's Closet. This store turned out to be much bigger and better... we found a few more things and then took a walk through a random summer block party/flea market type thing. The fire hydrants were open and good times were had.

This was all a great way for me to celebrate my first paycheck, which I got on Friday. Almost exactly two months after moving to New York I have officially started making an income... not bad. And taking a drive on a beautiful day with two of my favorite people was exactly what I wanted to do. On the way there we went over the Brooklyn Bridge and on the way back, Mia held her breath as we went underwater in the Holland Tunnel. At one point the traffic was so bad, I had time to jump out of the car and grab some drinks from a street cart... only in New York. Again, I wasn't driving, but time seemed to fly by and it was a fun day. I am going to sleep well.

A week in an Apple

Firstly, let me apologize for the delay since my last post. I've been too tired, lazy, or both.. I have no real excuse. It seems like I've been here longer than I have, but it's really only been about 10 days. This picture is the outside of the building I'm living in.

Following is my first week:

Mon: I forget. Oh wait.. I took the train to 181st St. This is pretty far uptown Manhattan.. now I know what kind of apartment you can get in the city for $1,100. I did not take any pictures.. 'nuff said. I had two hot dogs and a papaya drink for $3.25 and got back on the train. I stopped at Grand Central Station on the way back.. still love that place.

Tues: Got up early and took the 10:13am from Penn Station to West Orange, New Jersey. I was excited for two reasons. First, I was going to see Margaret and Mia, whom I'd been missing. Second, I was taking a real train for the first time. They said, "All aboard!" and a conductor wearing a hat came around and punched a hole in my ticket.. I was in the old west.


I had a great time in Jersey. We had mediocre food (the pizza place ran out of pepperoni.. are you f'ing kidding?!) but the company was great and their neighborhood is pretty.



Wed: Determined to see water of some kind, I set out for the Staten Island Ferry. This is a nice, free 20 minute boat ride through New York harbor with views of lower Manhattan, Ellis Island, and the Statue of Liberty.

Near as I can tell, there ain't a whole lot to do once you get to Staten Island, but the boat ride is nice and the smell of salt water and the feel of the wind on my face was refreshing. When I got back to the mainland I walked around Battery Park and the Financial District of Manhattan.

There is a lot of history down there... there is also a lot of dudes wearing ties. On the way back I passed through the World Trade Center site. This was the first time I've seen it.. It is pretty amazing. Somehow it felt like taking pictures, as if it were some kind of tourist attraction, would be weird.. so I didn't.

Thurs: By this point I'm already starting to tire... I'm sure I've walked more and gotten more sun in the last few days than I did all of last year. But..I had a longing to visit Coney Island. So, I set out on the subway to the land of Nathan's Hot Dogs and the Cyclone.

I must say, the hot dog was really, really good.. worth the line. I did not ride the Cyclone roller coaster.. that thing's almost 100 years old.. screw that. Go ahead, call me chicken. The beach and the boardwalk were pretty nice. I'd go back.. I'd even ride the Cyclone.. No Wonder Wheel though.. I refuse.


Fri: I could be mistaken, but I think I went to the Lower East Side and walked around. I mean, I know I did this, but not certain it was Friday. In any case, I ended up at Katz's Deli, this is the place where Harry met Sally and Sally faked an orgasm. The breakfast special of three pancakes, coffee, and OJ for $6.95 wasn't bad. The pastrami sandwich that I felt obligated to order was just OK. It did not give me an orgasm, which, for $16.99, I was sorta expecting.

So, that was my first Mon-Fri, in short. I've been waking up early, tiring myself out, and going to bed early. If you want, you can see more pictures in my albums listed to the right.