As those of who have bothered to read my stories published on the Internets know, there is a "contact the author" in my bio on the bottom to contact me if anyone so desires.
This weekend I got two. Both were "fans" of my stuff (I was a little worried before I read) I am happy to report and interestingly enough, they found me on different sites.
Granted, one fan sounded about 15, but it's her kinda grass root support that will undoubtedly catapult my name in the echelon of writers in history. At least she didn't write "lol" at all.
The other fan is an author of several short story collections, a man who has a column on one of my favorite sites (McSweeney's), a teacher at local universities in Florida and is even running for Congress.
Well, let me tell you....to say that I was difficult to live with yesterday is a bit of an understatement - here's a sample of dialogue between my girlfriend and myself on way home from Central Park -
Her - What should we eat tonite?
The Author - The author thinks pasta
Her - Oh brother
The Author - Hey, don't be all jealous cause YOU don't get fan letters
Her - you're an idiot
here's another as we lounged on the sofa -
Her - What's the weather gonna be tomorrow
The Author - The author senses rain
Her - You're an idiot
Anyway, our evening basically went like that - a lot of playa-hatin', a lot of eye-rollin', etc
I decided to check out the dude's website - i found a few interesting nuggets...
1. When running a few years ago, he came out in support for reparations for slavery
2. he ran once while advocating giving horses the right to vote (he pledged to vote "neigh" on every issue) - he got 26% of the vote btw
3. in 1984 when he ran for president (yes, THE president) , he wanted to move the nation's capital to Davenport, Iowa, make El Salvador the nation's 51st state, and have Jane Wyman as his running mate since she has experience in dumping Ronald Reagan.
So doing a straw poll (whatever that is), it appears my fanbase consists of 15 year old girls (at least I hope she's 15, she certainly writes like it) and the insane.
Rock On,
Aitch
Friday, October 20, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
I Hate to Sound Like Everyone Else but....
So I went to this open mic competition at Sal's Comedy Hole last night. Actually, I thought it was an open mic type competition but someone told me that they have ringers in the finals (Ted Alexandro won last year).
Anyway, I hate to sound like everyone else but, the other comics were pretty bad. A couple were worth noting...
One guy came up to the stage wearing a cloth sack over his head with the eyes and mouth cut out. He had buttons sewn onto it and wearing a headband. Tucked into the headband were limp corn husks, which dangled around his head. He stomped on the stage and in a loud and extremely hoarse voice declared himself an alien that came here around the time of the Incas (or the Mayans, I forget, but does it really matter?). He took out a chocolate bar, claimed to have invented it and started eating it. He announced his intention to sing "The Chocolate Song," imploring us to sing along if we knew the words.
He started to stomp on stage while chanting "Chocolate!" every so often (I knew the words after one refrain). When not staring at him in shock, the other comics were glancing at each other with an "Is this fo' real?" look.
Awesome...next time you see me, ask for an impression...the dude who sits next to me cracks up every time I do it (and I've already done it 30 times this morning).
This other dude gets up...I know him from the scene. He's been at it for like 4 years or so - not passed at any major clubs, but he's generally somewhat funny. Weird guy though, sometimes he's cool, sometimes he's a ...well, not cool. Last night? Not cool.
After a couple of his jokes are met with blank faces (it's a freaking open mic, what does he expect?), he started berating the other comics.
"How dare you unfunny muthafuckers stare at me!"
"How many people come to see YOU perform?"
"This is insane...you have no idea how funny this is...YOU people staring at ME! This is a joke!"
"I don't why I do this shit!"
He went on for like half his allotted five minutes...just berating the crowd of comics for not laughing at his jokes. Couple of things here - 1) You'd think that having done this for several years he'd be used to the open mic scene. It's miserable, but whatever...we do it to get comfortable on stage. 2) If he was really good, he wouldn't have to do open mics...methinks someone's really just angry for not being funny enough, and best of all (to me) 3) After his harangue, he continued to tell some jokes...and the comics laughed! Jeez...show some self-respect. I don't laugh anyway, but if I was a laugher, there's NO WAY I'd let him intimidate me into laughing for him. Yes, it actually pissed me off that people started laughing for him.
Long story short (I know, too late), the MC, this really young, absolutely atrocious "comic" (he prefaced every joke he told with "I know this jokes no good, but I'm gonna tell it anyway" - at least he warned us)...he was the judge to pick the finalists. He picked two guys who worked at the club, one guy who was really funny, and one guy who MUSTA been a regular at their open mic cause I have no idea why he was selected. Absolutely brutal.
And to top the evening off, the rain soaked my pants...yes, the very pants I was bringing into the cleaners. Nevermind.
Rock On,
Aitch
Anyway, I hate to sound like everyone else but, the other comics were pretty bad. A couple were worth noting...
One guy came up to the stage wearing a cloth sack over his head with the eyes and mouth cut out. He had buttons sewn onto it and wearing a headband. Tucked into the headband were limp corn husks, which dangled around his head. He stomped on the stage and in a loud and extremely hoarse voice declared himself an alien that came here around the time of the Incas (or the Mayans, I forget, but does it really matter?). He took out a chocolate bar, claimed to have invented it and started eating it. He announced his intention to sing "The Chocolate Song," imploring us to sing along if we knew the words.
He started to stomp on stage while chanting "Chocolate!" every so often (I knew the words after one refrain). When not staring at him in shock, the other comics were glancing at each other with an "Is this fo' real?" look.
Awesome...next time you see me, ask for an impression...the dude who sits next to me cracks up every time I do it (and I've already done it 30 times this morning).
This other dude gets up...I know him from the scene. He's been at it for like 4 years or so - not passed at any major clubs, but he's generally somewhat funny. Weird guy though, sometimes he's cool, sometimes he's a ...well, not cool. Last night? Not cool.
After a couple of his jokes are met with blank faces (it's a freaking open mic, what does he expect?), he started berating the other comics.
"How dare you unfunny muthafuckers stare at me!"
"How many people come to see YOU perform?"
"This is insane...you have no idea how funny this is...YOU people staring at ME! This is a joke!"
"I don't why I do this shit!"
He went on for like half his allotted five minutes...just berating the crowd of comics for not laughing at his jokes. Couple of things here - 1) You'd think that having done this for several years he'd be used to the open mic scene. It's miserable, but whatever...we do it to get comfortable on stage. 2) If he was really good, he wouldn't have to do open mics...methinks someone's really just angry for not being funny enough, and best of all (to me) 3) After his harangue, he continued to tell some jokes...and the comics laughed! Jeez...show some self-respect. I don't laugh anyway, but if I was a laugher, there's NO WAY I'd let him intimidate me into laughing for him. Yes, it actually pissed me off that people started laughing for him.
Long story short (I know, too late), the MC, this really young, absolutely atrocious "comic" (he prefaced every joke he told with "I know this jokes no good, but I'm gonna tell it anyway" - at least he warned us)...he was the judge to pick the finalists. He picked two guys who worked at the club, one guy who was really funny, and one guy who MUSTA been a regular at their open mic cause I have no idea why he was selected. Absolutely brutal.
And to top the evening off, the rain soaked my pants...yes, the very pants I was bringing into the cleaners. Nevermind.
Rock On,
Aitch
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Hot Yoga
So last night, instead of watching the World Series, I contorted my body into a variety of poses for 90 minutes while in heat that approximated 110 degrees (and I'm not exaggerating). That's what Bikram Yoga is (well, except for the missing the World Series part).
You know how every five years or so scientists change their mind about whether certain items are good for you...you know, things like coffee, dark chocolate, and Woody Allen movies? Well, I wish there were odds I can get that one day a study will announce that Bikram Yoga should be avoided at all costs. In fact, I think the press release will read something like, "We have no idea why anyone thought that standing on one leg while twisting your arms and legs into a pretzel...in a room where temperatures approach 110 degree was good for you, but thanks to this study, it's been confirmed. It's not. Not at all...Serious damage to your heart brain, liver, kidney's, sweat glands and spleen may occur. That is all."
So I started sweated after three minutes. Within ten minutes my face was red, after twenty it was purple and after a half-hour, my skin was bubbling. Several of the poses I couldn't do under normal circumstances, nevermind having to concentrate while sweat burned my eyes.
As we moved into a pose, the instructor (about 5'5" 120 pounds) announced it by name. Here are some of them...
Dandayamana Bibhaktapada Paschimottanasana
Arda Chandrasana Padahastasana
ok..two is enough - I felt like saying "bless you" each time but it didn't seem like the type of crowd that would get, or appreciate it - besides, I had to save my strength.
After class, while still dripping (in fact, I'm still sweating), I asked the instructor how many times one should do it a week to get a benefit out of it.
He replied, "Good question!" and then he thoughtfully continued, I'd say five times."
I laughed. When I noticed that he wasn't even smiling, I stopped.
I'm fairly certain that this Yoga is prohibited under the Geneva Convention and if it isn't, it should be.
Rock On,
Aitch
You know how every five years or so scientists change their mind about whether certain items are good for you...you know, things like coffee, dark chocolate, and Woody Allen movies? Well, I wish there were odds I can get that one day a study will announce that Bikram Yoga should be avoided at all costs. In fact, I think the press release will read something like, "We have no idea why anyone thought that standing on one leg while twisting your arms and legs into a pretzel...in a room where temperatures approach 110 degree was good for you, but thanks to this study, it's been confirmed. It's not. Not at all...Serious damage to your heart brain, liver, kidney's, sweat glands and spleen may occur. That is all."
So I started sweated after three minutes. Within ten minutes my face was red, after twenty it was purple and after a half-hour, my skin was bubbling. Several of the poses I couldn't do under normal circumstances, nevermind having to concentrate while sweat burned my eyes.
As we moved into a pose, the instructor (about 5'5" 120 pounds) announced it by name. Here are some of them...
Dandayamana Bibhaktapada Paschimottanasana
Arda Chandrasana Padahastasana
ok..two is enough - I felt like saying "bless you" each time but it didn't seem like the type of crowd that would get, or appreciate it - besides, I had to save my strength.
After class, while still dripping (in fact, I'm still sweating), I asked the instructor how many times one should do it a week to get a benefit out of it.
He replied, "Good question!" and then he thoughtfully continued, I'd say five times."
I laughed. When I noticed that he wasn't even smiling, I stopped.
I'm fairly certain that this Yoga is prohibited under the Geneva Convention and if it isn't, it should be.
Rock On,
Aitch
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Dinner with Mom - Epilogue
Note - See Previous Two Days to Explain this Post
When we left mom, my girlfriend and I needed a drink...
Sitting at a bar, I said to her, "It's amazing that I grew up so normal."
She responded, "Who says you're normal?"
Touche
Rock On,
Aitch
When we left mom, my girlfriend and I needed a drink...
Sitting at a bar, I said to her, "It's amazing that I grew up so normal."
She responded, "Who says you're normal?"
Touche
Rock On,
Aitch
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Dinner with Mom - Part Two
Note - see yesterday for Part One
So we walk the five blocks to One83 - new restaurant on Upper East Side (I really cant wait till I'm a famous author so I'll have a limo at my beck and call for such occurrences) - there's not many people there (it's 6:30 also) and the waitstaff is beyond attentive - i dunno if its standard there but there were at least three or four people catering to us (I really cant wait till I'm a famous author so I'll have six or seven...one will chew my food for me and feed me like a mother to baby bird)
I'm doin' this in reverse order in terms of timing because I wanna end with The Funniest Moment in The History of Mom Moments.
The Maitre d' was generous enuf to hook us up with a glass of port on the house (he must think I'm a famous writer or something). He brings over the glasses fer us (none fer mom as she doesn't drink) - when he places them on the table, mom noticed that one glass had more in it than the other but she kept the info to herself - oh wait, i'm sorry - SHE TOLD HIM THEY WERE UNEVEN - the poor guy was flustered fer a while blaming the bartender, until I said, "Don't worry about it" - he left...
My girlfriend and I tried our free glasses of uneven port....I made my usual "Moron Wine Connoisseur Face" - as i did it, the maitre d' walked past us as mom said, "If it's making you sick, dont drink it." And with that, my ulcer was that much closer to reality.
For dessert, I got the chocolate fondant cake - another phrasing of the chocolate cake with molten chocolate filling thats becoming as ubiquitous as Chilean Sea Bass on menus - not that i'm complaining - anhoo, mom gets coffee - they were tardy bringing her coffee, I was almost finished with my cake, so mom calls over the maitre d' - "Excuse me, I ordered coffee a while ago... but I dont want it anymore."
The Maitre d' apologized, splaining they were making a new pot or whatever, and the coffee came immediately thereafter - it didn't stop mom from telling me they shouldn't charge us fer the coffee.
"Ummm, mom, they gave us free glasses of port, even if they were uneven."
"Still."
Okay - the main event - here we go...
We get to tawkin' about mom's hair...mom splains how she thinks its too thick in the back and not tapered...just cut in a square - My girlfriend splains how she purposely did it that way because it'll look much better as it grows in, and she wont have to get it cut as often (or something like that...I was busy noticing that the average age of the patrons in the restaurant was 103) - so mom sez...
- are you ready?
"I see...so it's gotta look bad now so it'll look good later"
THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT EVERBODY - MOM'LL BE HERE ONE NIGHT ONLY - PLEASE, AS ALWAYS, TIP YOUR WAITRESSES!!!
Rock On,
Aitch
So we walk the five blocks to One83 - new restaurant on Upper East Side (I really cant wait till I'm a famous author so I'll have a limo at my beck and call for such occurrences) - there's not many people there (it's 6:30 also) and the waitstaff is beyond attentive - i dunno if its standard there but there were at least three or four people catering to us (I really cant wait till I'm a famous author so I'll have six or seven...one will chew my food for me and feed me like a mother to baby bird)
I'm doin' this in reverse order in terms of timing because I wanna end with The Funniest Moment in The History of Mom Moments.
The Maitre d' was generous enuf to hook us up with a glass of port on the house (he must think I'm a famous writer or something). He brings over the glasses fer us (none fer mom as she doesn't drink) - when he places them on the table, mom noticed that one glass had more in it than the other but she kept the info to herself - oh wait, i'm sorry - SHE TOLD HIM THEY WERE UNEVEN - the poor guy was flustered fer a while blaming the bartender, until I said, "Don't worry about it" - he left...
My girlfriend and I tried our free glasses of uneven port....I made my usual "Moron Wine Connoisseur Face" - as i did it, the maitre d' walked past us as mom said, "If it's making you sick, dont drink it." And with that, my ulcer was that much closer to reality.
For dessert, I got the chocolate fondant cake - another phrasing of the chocolate cake with molten chocolate filling thats becoming as ubiquitous as Chilean Sea Bass on menus - not that i'm complaining - anhoo, mom gets coffee - they were tardy bringing her coffee, I was almost finished with my cake, so mom calls over the maitre d' - "Excuse me, I ordered coffee a while ago... but I dont want it anymore."
The Maitre d' apologized, splaining they were making a new pot or whatever, and the coffee came immediately thereafter - it didn't stop mom from telling me they shouldn't charge us fer the coffee.
"Ummm, mom, they gave us free glasses of port, even if they were uneven."
"Still."
Okay - the main event - here we go...
We get to tawkin' about mom's hair...mom splains how she thinks its too thick in the back and not tapered...just cut in a square - My girlfriend splains how she purposely did it that way because it'll look much better as it grows in, and she wont have to get it cut as often (or something like that...I was busy noticing that the average age of the patrons in the restaurant was 103) - so mom sez...
- are you ready?
"I see...so it's gotta look bad now so it'll look good later"
THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT EVERBODY - MOM'LL BE HERE ONE NIGHT ONLY - PLEASE, AS ALWAYS, TIP YOUR WAITRESSES!!!
Rock On,
Aitch
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Dinner WIth Mom - Part One
So here's the backdrop - on Thursday, my girlfriend cut my mom's hair at Bumble and Bumble (the salon she works at) - it was a free cut for my mom's birthday - mind you, mom normally gets her hair cut fer 15 bucks, my girlfriend's are about 150 - not to say her cuts are necessarily ten times better...i'm just sayin' is all.
Since i wasn't there, i can't comment in detail about how mom told my girlfriend that if I met my ex-wife now, we'd be "perfect" fer each other (btw - if that sounded familiar, it should since she was just reiterating what she told her that THE FIRST TIME THEY MET!... god help me).
So mom was gonna meet me in my apartment and wait fer my girlfriend, who was going to join us. The first thing I said was, "Look at you! Nice haircut! Do you like it?" Her response?
"Weelllllllll...it's goooooood," she said slowly and unsurely.
"Okay, whats the matter?"
"Well, you tell me. Look at the back," she said, turning around.
"I'm no expert but it looks fine to me," I replied and then continued, "What's wrong with it?"
"Well, my other girl tapers the back and leaves it longer. As you can see, the back is straight and much fuller."
"Maybe thats the difference between gettin' a 15 dollar haircut and a 150 dollar one."
"Maybe...should I say something to her?"
You'd think logically I'd say, "NO! DO NOT SAY ANYTHING!" but quite frankly, I knew that it didn't matter what I said, so I answered, "If you wanna, go ahead. I'm sure she can take it."
I was already lookin' forward to dinner...as was my stomach which was startin' to hurt..though methinks it may've just been my soon to be born ulcer.
So we've got over an hour to kill - i run out of conversation in 12 seconds - mom hasn't read my Ray Romano tale yet so I insist that she read it right there, thereby killing two birds with one stone - I figured she'd love it - she's always askin' why she's not in any of my stories and all - peeps love the stories that they can best relate to - she IS the story - how can she not relate?!? So I'm pretending to read GQ (new Sedaris story in it), while watching her out of corner of my eye - she giggles every once in a while but not nearly as much as I'd hoped for - when I see she's finished i immediately ask, "Well?!?"
She replies, "So exactly which part is supposed to be funny?"
I just sat there and we stared at each other for about ten seconds...
Let's move on before the vein in my forehead blows....
Next mom notices what a lovely sweater I had draped on my sofa...I tell her that my girlfriend gave it to me cause it was too big on her...
She looks at it and says, "Extra Large?!? Of course it's too big fer her."
I replied, "Well, it was prolly one of her ex-boyfriends." I know, I was askin' fer it.
Mom says, without missing a beat, "I hope you washed it."
"Nah...I just put it right on...apparently, he was a Drakkar Noir kinda guy."
"No really...I hope you washed it."
"I DID!"
"Okay, I just never know when you're kidding."
Why me?
So then she asks what she should get my girlfriend fer Christmas...
"She likes those good smelly candle thingies."
"Oh, great ...I'll get her those...oh wait...you dont leave them going when you go to sleep, do you?"
"Yes, we leave them on...and place them next to her wall made out of cardboard which we soak with lighter fluid."
"I know you're kidding but maybe thats not a good gift."
"Mom, we DONT leave them on!"
"I'd worry."
"Fine...dont get them...good grief."
TO BE CONTINUED (dinnertime!)
Rock On,
Aitch
Since i wasn't there, i can't comment in detail about how mom told my girlfriend that if I met my ex-wife now, we'd be "perfect" fer each other (btw - if that sounded familiar, it should since she was just reiterating what she told her that THE FIRST TIME THEY MET!... god help me).
So mom was gonna meet me in my apartment and wait fer my girlfriend, who was going to join us. The first thing I said was, "Look at you! Nice haircut! Do you like it?" Her response?
"Weelllllllll...it's goooooood," she said slowly and unsurely.
"Okay, whats the matter?"
"Well, you tell me. Look at the back," she said, turning around.
"I'm no expert but it looks fine to me," I replied and then continued, "What's wrong with it?"
"Well, my other girl tapers the back and leaves it longer. As you can see, the back is straight and much fuller."
"Maybe thats the difference between gettin' a 15 dollar haircut and a 150 dollar one."
"Maybe...should I say something to her?"
You'd think logically I'd say, "NO! DO NOT SAY ANYTHING!" but quite frankly, I knew that it didn't matter what I said, so I answered, "If you wanna, go ahead. I'm sure she can take it."
I was already lookin' forward to dinner...as was my stomach which was startin' to hurt..though methinks it may've just been my soon to be born ulcer.
So we've got over an hour to kill - i run out of conversation in 12 seconds - mom hasn't read my Ray Romano tale yet so I insist that she read it right there, thereby killing two birds with one stone - I figured she'd love it - she's always askin' why she's not in any of my stories and all - peeps love the stories that they can best relate to - she IS the story - how can she not relate?!? So I'm pretending to read GQ (new Sedaris story in it), while watching her out of corner of my eye - she giggles every once in a while but not nearly as much as I'd hoped for - when I see she's finished i immediately ask, "Well?!?"
She replies, "So exactly which part is supposed to be funny?"
I just sat there and we stared at each other for about ten seconds...
Let's move on before the vein in my forehead blows....
Next mom notices what a lovely sweater I had draped on my sofa...I tell her that my girlfriend gave it to me cause it was too big on her...
She looks at it and says, "Extra Large?!? Of course it's too big fer her."
I replied, "Well, it was prolly one of her ex-boyfriends." I know, I was askin' fer it.
Mom says, without missing a beat, "I hope you washed it."
"Nah...I just put it right on...apparently, he was a Drakkar Noir kinda guy."
"No really...I hope you washed it."
"I DID!"
"Okay, I just never know when you're kidding."
Why me?
So then she asks what she should get my girlfriend fer Christmas...
"She likes those good smelly candle thingies."
"Oh, great ...I'll get her those...oh wait...you dont leave them going when you go to sleep, do you?"
"I know you're kidding but maybe thats not a good gift."
"Mom, we DONT leave them on!"
"I'd worry."
"Fine...dont get them...good grief."
TO BE CONTINUED (dinnertime!)
Rock On,
Aitch
Monday, September 18, 2006
Worst...Tailgate...Ever
So I usually go to one football game a year with my boyz (Rich, Vic, and Mike). We get there early, bring a bbq, a cooler, a football to toss around etc. and take in the whole tailgating experience with fellow football fans. That game was yesterday.
One of my buds, Vic, spent last week compiling and e-mailing lists of items to bring (tin foil, utensils, spatula, etc). He even called on Sunday morning to make sure we didn't forget anything.
It was great day, about 80-85 degrees, a little too warm for me, but great for normal people. Rich and I started out bright and early, packed up his car and hit the road at around 11 AM to pick Vic up. We got to Vic, whereupon he checks the trunk to make sure we got everything. We transferred the cooler, hibachi, etc to Vic's car as he was driving.
We got to the Meadowlands by 12:45, the parking lot was already beginning to fill up (for a 4 PM game). We chose a spot and took everything out of the trunk - chairs, cooler, radio, etc. We sat down, opened beers and I believe Rich said, "Perfect day," as we basked in the sun, waiting for Mike to join us.
Then Vic said, "I forgot the tickets."
Rich and I looked at each other, both smirking. "Good one," I said.
"No, seriously, I forgot the tickets," Vic insisted as he reached in all of his pockets. By this time, Rich and I were smiling from ear to ear. I leaned back, soaking in the sun.
"So what should we do?" Vic asked, a bit panic-stricken. he sun seemed to get hotter. Though not sure I believed him, I humored him by calling Mike's cell to see where he was...maybe he could pick Vic up and drive him home and back. I got his answering machine. We decided that Vic would drive back to get the tix but it wouldn't make sense for Rich and I to go too. We'd just sit there, in our parking space and try to hold the spot until Mike arrived. I still didn't believe him but I did start to sweat.
I still wasn't sure I believed him when he got in his car and drove off, thinking he' loop around and try to play it off like he "got" us.
When he left the parking area was when I definitely believed him.
He disappeared and there was Rich and I, sitting in the space, cars around us, people bbq'ing. We couldn't even bbq cause we were afraid someone would chase us out of the carless spot. So we sat there...and waited...and waited...and waited. We joked the only thing that would've made this better is if it started raining. I guess we would've had to hide under someone's car.
After a half hour, Mike called, he was there, but our lot was closed - he had to park on the other side of an enclosed bridge, about a 15 minute walk from where we were. Not sure what to do since we now realized that we'd have to drag all of our stuff to the car when we were through, we decided to start the que up, since we were running out of time before the game and had a lot of food (so less to carry). The downside being that we'd have to leave the bbq there and pick it up after the game (too hot to move).
So we got it going and Vic finally comes around 3 PM...he also had to park in that same lot, 15 minutes away. Also, a couple of Rich's friends attending the game joined us. Rich cooked up what he could (without even time to eat much, and we ended up throwing out stuff).
Then, around 3:45 me and Vic figure we should get the cooler, chairs, radio back to the car. We gave Rich and Mike their tix, and headed on out. The cooler was still full so we each grabbed one handle and with our free hands, Vic carried the radio and I carried the two chairs respectively. So it was 85 degrees, we're awkwardly carrying all this crap and we're going against all the people walking towards the stadium. We had to stop a few times to rest when Vic started to cry (may've been sweat)
Anyway, we only missed a a little of the game, but when the Pats were up 24-0 midway through the 3rd Quarter, I figured what else could happen (btw - the Jets did rally late though too little)...then the game ended.
So we made a bit of a circular route to pick up the bbq and our flatware (Rich was worried that someone stole it and he'd have to explain it to his wife) and walked to our car.
Long story short (I know, too late) - we left the stadium around 7:15 - thanks to traffic, Rich and I walked in around 11:15.
Just perfect.
Rock On,
Aitch
One of my buds, Vic, spent last week compiling and e-mailing lists of items to bring (tin foil, utensils, spatula, etc). He even called on Sunday morning to make sure we didn't forget anything.
It was great day, about 80-85 degrees, a little too warm for me, but great for normal people. Rich and I started out bright and early, packed up his car and hit the road at around 11 AM to pick Vic up. We got to Vic, whereupon he checks the trunk to make sure we got everything. We transferred the cooler, hibachi, etc to Vic's car as he was driving.
We got to the Meadowlands by 12:45, the parking lot was already beginning to fill up (for a 4 PM game). We chose a spot and took everything out of the trunk - chairs, cooler, radio, etc. We sat down, opened beers and I believe Rich said, "Perfect day," as we basked in the sun, waiting for Mike to join us.
Then Vic said, "I forgot the tickets."
Rich and I looked at each other, both smirking. "Good one," I said.
"No, seriously, I forgot the tickets," Vic insisted as he reached in all of his pockets. By this time, Rich and I were smiling from ear to ear. I leaned back, soaking in the sun.
"So what should we do?" Vic asked, a bit panic-stricken. he sun seemed to get hotter. Though not sure I believed him, I humored him by calling Mike's cell to see where he was...maybe he could pick Vic up and drive him home and back. I got his answering machine. We decided that Vic would drive back to get the tix but it wouldn't make sense for Rich and I to go too. We'd just sit there, in our parking space and try to hold the spot until Mike arrived. I still didn't believe him but I did start to sweat.
I still wasn't sure I believed him when he got in his car and drove off, thinking he' loop around and try to play it off like he "got" us.
When he left the parking area was when I definitely believed him.
He disappeared and there was Rich and I, sitting in the space, cars around us, people bbq'ing. We couldn't even bbq cause we were afraid someone would chase us out of the carless spot. So we sat there...and waited...and waited...and waited. We joked the only thing that would've made this better is if it started raining. I guess we would've had to hide under someone's car.
After a half hour, Mike called, he was there, but our lot was closed - he had to park on the other side of an enclosed bridge, about a 15 minute walk from where we were. Not sure what to do since we now realized that we'd have to drag all of our stuff to the car when we were through, we decided to start the que up, since we were running out of time before the game and had a lot of food (so less to carry). The downside being that we'd have to leave the bbq there and pick it up after the game (too hot to move).
So we got it going and Vic finally comes around 3 PM...he also had to park in that same lot, 15 minutes away. Also, a couple of Rich's friends attending the game joined us. Rich cooked up what he could (without even time to eat much, and we ended up throwing out stuff).
Then, around 3:45 me and Vic figure we should get the cooler, chairs, radio back to the car. We gave Rich and Mike their tix, and headed on out. The cooler was still full so we each grabbed one handle and with our free hands, Vic carried the radio and I carried the two chairs respectively. So it was 85 degrees, we're awkwardly carrying all this crap and we're going against all the people walking towards the stadium. We had to stop a few times to rest when Vic started to cry (may've been sweat)
Anyway, we only missed a a little of the game, but when the Pats were up 24-0 midway through the 3rd Quarter, I figured what else could happen (btw - the Jets did rally late though too little)...then the game ended.
So we made a bit of a circular route to pick up the bbq and our flatware (Rich was worried that someone stole it and he'd have to explain it to his wife) and walked to our car.
Long story short (I know, too late) - we left the stadium around 7:15 - thanks to traffic, Rich and I walked in around 11:15.
Just perfect.
Rock On,
Aitch
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