Tuesday, September 28, 2004
why i hate florida
last friday, september 24th, i packed my bags and headed down to orlando, f-l-a to go to my friend snowpea's wedding. i knew hurricane jeanne was a'comin', but i figured that i could narrowly avoid disaster-related hilarity since my flight out was for sunday morning early, in theory before the hurricane got there. so, i land in whorelando after a great flight on superawesome jetblue, and see this sign:
which i should have interpreted as a sign to turn tail and head back to new york. shoulda, woulda, coulda, as they say. as planned, i met up at the airport with my friends and fellow wedding attendees j-fly (bistro award winner, and two-time MAC award nominee) and r-toz (all-around stand-up guy). we find a cab and tell the driver to take us to the holiday inn express in cocoa beach. an hour, and $72 later, we arrive. when we try to check in, we find out that we're at the wrong holiday in express in cocoa beach. lame. luckily our cab driver was still there, so we had him take us to the other hotel. we get there and apparently didn't see this sign on the door
'cause we went in and tried to check in. the lady behind the counter said that they were closed, and that the whole area would be evacuated by the next morning at 6 a.m. doublelame. she also informed me that there are fully three holiday inn expresses in cocoa beach, and we were booked at the third one, which was 12 miles in the direction in which we had just come. triplelame. our driver was again still there, so as i was figuring out what the hell was going on, r-toz asked him if he would drive us back.. the guy said yes, but that he had to go to the bathroom, and would be right back. needless to say, he didn't come back. luckily, the hotel lady gave us a number for a cab company, and after a bit of a wait,
our car showed up, driven by a crazy old redneck named tom. half an hour and $40 after that, we were finally at the right holiday inn express where we met up with three other nyfriends. an hour in the hot-tub and the better part of a case of beer later, we had virtually forgotten our troubles. wet, half naked, wrinkly from the tub, and half in the bag due to lots of beer and no food i make my way up to my room only to run into snowpea, her hubby to be, and their families. i kiss snowpea hello and hurriedly make my way back up to my room 'lest i make a bad first impression on the in-laws. once i get to my room i leave a dump (it was decided during our cab ride that that's technically more correct to say than "take a dump") which refused to go down for the whole of my time there. it didn't really smell all that bad, as the poop smell was covered by the smell of mold that permeated the entire floor that my room was on.
that night, we went to the pre-wedding party, which was somewhat marred by the impending natural disaster. lots of people were trying to figure out a way out of dodge despite the fact that the airport was going to be shut down the next day, and amtrak wasn't running at all (the lady on the phone virtually laughed at me when i asked her if there were any trains leaving florida.) post-party, my companions and i weighed our options and decided that 4 of us would drive back up to new york, and 2 of us would stay behind and try to ride out the storm or find an alternate route home. the morning we left, the orlando sky looked like this:
the drive back, though 17 hours long, was largely uneventful. despite the fact that i spent more time traveling than anything else, the trip was worth it because of one small souvenir that i picked up at a rest stop in south carolina.
i imagine that i'm just about the only person that's ever bought one of these out of a sense of irony and not to get in better with my fellow militia-men.
all told, it was good to see snowpea, it was nice taking an impromptu road trip, and i enjoyed watching direct tv while flying (i really like jetblue, y'all!) but it's gonna be a cold, cold day in hell before my ass gets anywhere near florida.
which i should have interpreted as a sign to turn tail and head back to new york. shoulda, woulda, coulda, as they say. as planned, i met up at the airport with my friends and fellow wedding attendees j-fly (bistro award winner, and two-time MAC award nominee) and r-toz (all-around stand-up guy). we find a cab and tell the driver to take us to the holiday inn express in cocoa beach. an hour, and $72 later, we arrive. when we try to check in, we find out that we're at the wrong holiday in express in cocoa beach. lame. luckily our cab driver was still there, so we had him take us to the other hotel. we get there and apparently didn't see this sign on the door
'cause we went in and tried to check in. the lady behind the counter said that they were closed, and that the whole area would be evacuated by the next morning at 6 a.m. doublelame. she also informed me that there are fully three holiday inn expresses in cocoa beach, and we were booked at the third one, which was 12 miles in the direction in which we had just come. triplelame. our driver was again still there, so as i was figuring out what the hell was going on, r-toz asked him if he would drive us back.. the guy said yes, but that he had to go to the bathroom, and would be right back. needless to say, he didn't come back. luckily, the hotel lady gave us a number for a cab company, and after a bit of a wait,
our car showed up, driven by a crazy old redneck named tom. half an hour and $40 after that, we were finally at the right holiday inn express where we met up with three other nyfriends. an hour in the hot-tub and the better part of a case of beer later, we had virtually forgotten our troubles. wet, half naked, wrinkly from the tub, and half in the bag due to lots of beer and no food i make my way up to my room only to run into snowpea, her hubby to be, and their families. i kiss snowpea hello and hurriedly make my way back up to my room 'lest i make a bad first impression on the in-laws. once i get to my room i leave a dump (it was decided during our cab ride that that's technically more correct to say than "take a dump") which refused to go down for the whole of my time there. it didn't really smell all that bad, as the poop smell was covered by the smell of mold that permeated the entire floor that my room was on.
that night, we went to the pre-wedding party, which was somewhat marred by the impending natural disaster. lots of people were trying to figure out a way out of dodge despite the fact that the airport was going to be shut down the next day, and amtrak wasn't running at all (the lady on the phone virtually laughed at me when i asked her if there were any trains leaving florida.) post-party, my companions and i weighed our options and decided that 4 of us would drive back up to new york, and 2 of us would stay behind and try to ride out the storm or find an alternate route home. the morning we left, the orlando sky looked like this:
the drive back, though 17 hours long, was largely uneventful. despite the fact that i spent more time traveling than anything else, the trip was worth it because of one small souvenir that i picked up at a rest stop in south carolina.
i imagine that i'm just about the only person that's ever bought one of these out of a sense of irony and not to get in better with my fellow militia-men.
all told, it was good to see snowpea, it was nice taking an impromptu road trip, and i enjoyed watching direct tv while flying (i really like jetblue, y'all!) but it's gonna be a cold, cold day in hell before my ass gets anywhere near florida.
Monday, September 20, 2004
t.v. dinner? you brought her!
i was watching "unwrapped" on the food network. the topic was "t.v. dinners". marc summers blahbety blahs about how there's this restaurant, ike, here in new york that serves t.v. dinners. like, they make full-on swanson and hungry man t.v. dinners. what? and they take 35 fucking minutes to cook. doublewhat? you wait around for over half an hour for shitty food for the sake of nostalgia and vague hipster cachet? lame. it would officially be like a zillion times better if the restaurant made the same kind of food that came in t.v. dinners, and then served them in t.v. dinner trays. how totally fun would that be?
Saturday, September 18, 2004
These are a few of my favorite things...
note to self: the next time you're bummed out, think about all the things you love. things like...
bright colors and the people who rock them.
hot casual dudes.
art, in all it's fabulous forms...
...and the people who create it.
bright colors and the people who rock them.
hot casual dudes.
art, in all it's fabulous forms...
...and the people who create it.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Don't Do What Donnie Don't Does...
below you'll find a story of my friend b's recent adventures. take the story as you will. i don't condone his actions, though i did get a chuckle out of reading about them. hopefully you will, too:
So here's a little story, I've got to tell…
So the other Thursday night I went out before I was leaving for a trip back to Western New York and had a few drinks. Quite a few, actually, and with an early start, as I went to the pub pretty much right after work. Ended up at Bukowski's, a normal outcome, with a bunch of friends. Had a few there, as well as my first food for the evening (time: 1:30AM). Closed the second pub of the night, and bid my adieus to the people I was with.
About two blocks from my start point, I'm passing a house and I hear this voice say, what I think to be:
"You gotta light?"
I stop, and look towards the voice, still walking down the street.
Then the voice says:
"Hey man, you gotta problem?"
Great. My response is continuing up the street, hoping that dude will get the hint and lose interest.
Not so:
"What was that look for? Why you looking at me like that?"
"Hey man, I'm just trying to get home to bed."
"Nah, nah man, what's your problem? Why you looking at me like that?"
"I didn't even see you until you said something to me, man. I'm just going home."
Now, all the while this is going on, I'm walking down the street, aware of what's going on behind me, but not giving the guy a reason to keep giving me shit. However, the dude is decidedly not losing interest, and has been following me up the street. I'm not really a fighter, I've never been in a fight, though I've talked myself out of more than a couple. I'm really not interested in having my first fight be when I'm pretty drunk and high from my evening at 2:30AM on my way home from a good night out with friends. I'm trying to talk/maneuver my way out of this, but it doesn't seem to be working, especially since the next thing that happens is me getting hit by a trash bag that our man just threw at me. Now I stop, as it's obvious I'm not just walking away.
"What the fuck?"
The guy comes up to me.
"You got $10? You gimme $10, we'll call it even."
Incredulous: "Nah man, I don't have $10."
Now I did have $10, but I'll take a couple of blows and hit this kid in the head a couple times before I give him $10. He's shorter than me, and about the same size as me, so I'm certainly not just going to get beaten.
"C'mon man, you got $10, gimme $10."
"I don't have it. I've been out at the pub all night, I don't have $10."
"You been out drinking?"
"Yeah, I was at the pub. I'm going home to bed."
"You fucked up man?"
Where is this kid going ?
"Yeah, I was at the pub, I'm fucked up."
"You smoke herb, man?"
WTF?
"Yeah."
"You wanna have a smoke?"
"Sure man, you wanna smoke, we can smoke right now. I have a bat."
For the uninclined, a bat is a small one hitter, that's perfect for going out.
Now, I know you're wondering, why would I smoke some dude up that just threw a trash bag at me and wants $10? Basically, if I could have a smoke with this dude (especially since it was pretty guaranteed I would have done so on the walk home anyway) and walk away from a possible fight, why not?
"Come back with me and have a smoke with me and my friend. What's your name, man? Sorry about starting shit with you, I'm drunk and was looking for a fight."
No shit.
"Whatever man, sure. I'll come have a smoke, my name's Ben."
Honestly, why not? It was easier to say yes, then listen to more shit from this dude when I try to walk away. It didn't work the first time. Besides, I'm getting the feeling the guy's chilled out a bit.
We walk back through the gate I was first accosted from and back to a doorway on the side of this house. This kid is rolling a blunt, leaning against the doorway.
"Hey man, this is --- (I forget the guy's name, it doesn't matter). He's rolling us up a blunt to smoke."
Thanks, Sherlock.
"Word. I've got a bat as well." I take a bat hit. Shit, I needed one.
Idle chatter ensues, the gist of which was they were hanging out all night boozing, blah blah, this dude's spoiling for a fight, apologizes several times for being a jackass. Good natured townies, all told. Turns out they're like 21 and 22.
We smoke the blunt, guy wants my phone number, I give it to him. He calls it telling me I better not have given him a wrong number (Okay, buddy). Chicks do that shit, he says. Big surprise. My phone rings, now we have each other's number. Fantastic. I don't even remember dude's name. My phone does. Good enough.
Finally, it's time for me to get on getting on. Guy asks me where I live, I tell him Central Square.
"Yo, you want a ride home?"
"No man. I'll just walk." Ninja, please. You think I want a ride home from your monkey ass?
"You better be careful. That's a bad neighborhood."
"I don't think so. I've lived here for 5 years, and haven't ever been bothered by anybody. Until tonight. By you."
Guy turns all red.
"Man, sorry about that. I'm an asshole."
Yep, you sure are.
But, he did get me high. Gotta give him that.
I take off, walk home, go to bed. I was ready for bed.
So, that's my story. How Ben walked into a shit storm, and came out safe (for those who don't get the double meaning, "safe" is another way some of us say "high"). I hope you all enjoy it.
-B
So here's a little story, I've got to tell…
So the other Thursday night I went out before I was leaving for a trip back to Western New York and had a few drinks. Quite a few, actually, and with an early start, as I went to the pub pretty much right after work. Ended up at Bukowski's, a normal outcome, with a bunch of friends. Had a few there, as well as my first food for the evening (time: 1:30AM). Closed the second pub of the night, and bid my adieus to the people I was with.
About two blocks from my start point, I'm passing a house and I hear this voice say, what I think to be:
"You gotta light?"
I stop, and look towards the voice, still walking down the street.
Then the voice says:
"Hey man, you gotta problem?"
Great. My response is continuing up the street, hoping that dude will get the hint and lose interest.
Not so:
"What was that look for? Why you looking at me like that?"
"Hey man, I'm just trying to get home to bed."
"Nah, nah man, what's your problem? Why you looking at me like that?"
"I didn't even see you until you said something to me, man. I'm just going home."
Now, all the while this is going on, I'm walking down the street, aware of what's going on behind me, but not giving the guy a reason to keep giving me shit. However, the dude is decidedly not losing interest, and has been following me up the street. I'm not really a fighter, I've never been in a fight, though I've talked myself out of more than a couple. I'm really not interested in having my first fight be when I'm pretty drunk and high from my evening at 2:30AM on my way home from a good night out with friends. I'm trying to talk/maneuver my way out of this, but it doesn't seem to be working, especially since the next thing that happens is me getting hit by a trash bag that our man just threw at me. Now I stop, as it's obvious I'm not just walking away.
"What the fuck?"
The guy comes up to me.
"You got $10? You gimme $10, we'll call it even."
Incredulous: "Nah man, I don't have $10."
Now I did have $10, but I'll take a couple of blows and hit this kid in the head a couple times before I give him $10. He's shorter than me, and about the same size as me, so I'm certainly not just going to get beaten.
"C'mon man, you got $10, gimme $10."
"I don't have it. I've been out at the pub all night, I don't have $10."
"You been out drinking?"
"Yeah, I was at the pub. I'm going home to bed."
"You fucked up man?"
Where is this kid going ?
"Yeah, I was at the pub, I'm fucked up."
"You smoke herb, man?"
WTF?
"Yeah."
"You wanna have a smoke?"
"Sure man, you wanna smoke, we can smoke right now. I have a bat."
For the uninclined, a bat is a small one hitter, that's perfect for going out.
Now, I know you're wondering, why would I smoke some dude up that just threw a trash bag at me and wants $10? Basically, if I could have a smoke with this dude (especially since it was pretty guaranteed I would have done so on the walk home anyway) and walk away from a possible fight, why not?
"Come back with me and have a smoke with me and my friend. What's your name, man? Sorry about starting shit with you, I'm drunk and was looking for a fight."
No shit.
"Whatever man, sure. I'll come have a smoke, my name's Ben."
Honestly, why not? It was easier to say yes, then listen to more shit from this dude when I try to walk away. It didn't work the first time. Besides, I'm getting the feeling the guy's chilled out a bit.
We walk back through the gate I was first accosted from and back to a doorway on the side of this house. This kid is rolling a blunt, leaning against the doorway.
"Hey man, this is --- (I forget the guy's name, it doesn't matter). He's rolling us up a blunt to smoke."
Thanks, Sherlock.
"Word. I've got a bat as well." I take a bat hit. Shit, I needed one.
Idle chatter ensues, the gist of which was they were hanging out all night boozing, blah blah, this dude's spoiling for a fight, apologizes several times for being a jackass. Good natured townies, all told. Turns out they're like 21 and 22.
We smoke the blunt, guy wants my phone number, I give it to him. He calls it telling me I better not have given him a wrong number (Okay, buddy). Chicks do that shit, he says. Big surprise. My phone rings, now we have each other's number. Fantastic. I don't even remember dude's name. My phone does. Good enough.
Finally, it's time for me to get on getting on. Guy asks me where I live, I tell him Central Square.
"Yo, you want a ride home?"
"No man. I'll just walk." Ninja, please. You think I want a ride home from your monkey ass?
"You better be careful. That's a bad neighborhood."
"I don't think so. I've lived here for 5 years, and haven't ever been bothered by anybody. Until tonight. By you."
Guy turns all red.
"Man, sorry about that. I'm an asshole."
Yep, you sure are.
But, he did get me high. Gotta give him that.
I take off, walk home, go to bed. I was ready for bed.
So, that's my story. How Ben walked into a shit storm, and came out safe (for those who don't get the double meaning, "safe" is another way some of us say "high"). I hope you all enjoy it.
-B
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Happy, Happy Birthday Baby (Tune Weavers)
Happy, happy birthday, baby
Although you're with somebody new
Thought I'd drop a line to say
That I wish this happy day
Would find me beside you
Happy, happy birthday, baby
No I can't call you my baby
Seems like years ago we met
On a day I can't forget
'Cause that's when we fell in love
Do you remember the names we had for each other
I was your pretty, you were my baby
How could we say goodbye
Hope I didn't spoil your birthday
I'm not acting like a lady
So I'll close this note to you
With good luck and wishes too
Happy, happy birthday, baby
Although you're with somebody new
Thought I'd drop a line to say
That I wish this happy day
Would find me beside you
Happy, happy birthday, baby
No I can't call you my baby
Seems like years ago we met
On a day I can't forget
'Cause that's when we fell in love
Do you remember the names we had for each other
I was your pretty, you were my baby
How could we say goodbye
Hope I didn't spoil your birthday
I'm not acting like a lady
So I'll close this note to you
With good luck and wishes too
Happy, happy birthday, baby
