IcelandAir good, Iceland not so much

On my way back from London I once again flew IcelandAir, to keep costs low. The airline is fantastic, providing great entertainment options and plenty of legroom. The in-flight entertainment system features about 10 movies which you can select to start at your own convenience, as well as several TV shows. I like this a lot better than the DirectTV option in terms of convenience, although, of course it does mean less variety. Fortunately for me both times I've flown on IcelandAir the selection has been great. On my flight from Heathrow to Keflavik International, I watched the Alvin and the Chipmunks sequel (I'm not proud of it, but I was curious to see what songs they would use/the treatment of the Chipettes, etc. since I was a fan of the cartoon back in the day) and the pilot episode of Glee (because I wanted to see what all the hype was about). That basically kept me occupied during the 3 hour flight.

Then I landed in Iceland, at Keflavik International airport, which, the in-flight entertainment system informed me won best airport in Europe in 2008. Just like the claim that Portland's airport made about winning such an award, I had to wonder, what jackass is voting in this competition? The airport absolutely sucks.
You exit the gate and immediately are forced onto line for passport inspection. Yeah that's normal, except you'd expect a little bit more room to maneuver. You litterally exit the gate and are on the line. There are 4 or 5 other gates with passengers trying to board a plane and it gets crammed and crowded pretty quickly. Once you make it through that checkpoint you have about zero options other than to proceed through another passport checkpoint in order to get your connecting flight gate. Great. Through that and there was a pair of non-police or customs officials with a little table forcing us to show our passports for inspection again - 10 seconds after the Icelandic border patrol just checked it! Okay that was annoying, but I powered on... to the 1 eatery I had access to in the entire airport. It's not a restaurant, it's not a fast food counter, it's 2 commercial refigerators with drinks, a case with a couple of shrink wrapped pre-made sandwiches and a small rotating warming tray with some horrible looking dish that was claimed to be pizza. After a fairly expensive and mostly inedible meal I lined up at the gate where my passport and boarding pass were checked again. However this time we couldn't get to the gate, it was up an escalator that was blocked off. So, the entire flight was then cramped into a small room next to an escalator that was roped off. Once it was opened it was a free-for-all to get on the plane. No organization or anything.

Back on the plane and I tuned in to watch 'Date Night' the Tina Fey and Steve Carrell movie. It was alright. I planned on watching 'Little Miss Sunshine', and then wrapping up with 'Die Hard' (great movie for a plane ride. Die Hard 2 of course, is a horrible choice) but exhaustion caught up so I took a nap. I woke up and programmed a 40 song playlist featuring the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Queen and Eric Clapton which, with a few sporadic naps, got me safely to JFK. Flashed my passport a few times, explained I was studying abroad and I was back in the US of A, and it was good to be home.

The hour and a half of traffic to get over the Whitestone Bridge however, was not.

The long road home

It started the other night, when we all hugged Jess goodbye before heading into another bar. She was the first of the 5 to go.

We made it through the weekend and then this morning with one last "Bob Hug" we said goodbye to Julie.

And then there were 3.

I'm leaving Saturday morning, on my way back to the U.S. Back to N.Y. Back to the familiarity of the doctor's office.

They'll be in San Francisco and Stockholm. I'll be at home.

For 3 months we've been about as close as family. We've lived and worked together and had good times and some times that were slightly less fun, thanks to health and just the random issues that pop up in life.
Through it all though we made our way with smiles on our faces and some pretty damn fine advertising for our books.

It was the best of times, it was the greatest of times. It was our tale of this city.

Does this mean that I'm an international chef?

This past Saturday night my friend Aaron and I cooked dinner for the girls at his place. He handled salad and apps while I prepared the main course. Apparently I had shot my mouth off about cooking lasagna one time too many and Jess called it in, so I was tasked with baking a meat lasagna, with garlic bread, of course.

Unfortunately, I forgot my camera so there will be no "Culinary Adventures" photo album associated with the meal.

I woke up on Saturday morning after a fun and drink filled Friday and spent most of the mid-afternoon purchasing ingredients. It's a fairly minor task in the states because finding ingredients to do your own cook is normal. In London, it's a pain in the ass. I quickly realized why British food gets the rap that it does - they don't even have the proper ingredients to cook something that doesn't suck. Everything is pre-made or in a jar. Like "Burger Sauce". I have no idea what that is, but it's some generic crap in a squeeze tube that you're supposed to want to put on a well cooked piece of meat. No thanks. There is no spice (i.e. flavor) aisle in the supermarket and the theme of the day is always "grab and go" for meals. It's sad really. I know American's are over eaters but part of that is because our food tastes good.

So back to the story. I left for Aaron's missing only a few ingredients: an egg (which I didn't want to try to take on the train), sliced mozzarella (I like the way it cooks more than the shredded variety) and garlic powder (again no spice aisle). I finally gave in an picked up a package of shredded mozzarella on the way. After meeting me at the train station Aaron and I picked up some eggs and by the greatest of fortunes, the small corner store we went to had a bag of garlic powder. So, no armed with all the ingredients we headed for the kitchen.

It was fun putting together the lasagna and the minor difficulties we ran into - ran out of noodles for the top layer so I got creative with the structure, not understanding British oven settings and setting the oven to broil for the first 15 minutes (which resulted in some very nicely melted cheese on top). But we overcame that, set the oven correctly and I whipped up a batch of garlic bread.

We all sat around the table and had a nice meal. It felt good to cook again. Especially when everyone went to for seconds.

The All American Birthday

Now turning 28 isn't the sexiest of birthdays. In fact, it's probably one of the more humdrum or troublesome ones, as you realize your twenties are quickly fleeting and soon you'll be thirty, are still in school, have no job and in no position for marriage or any of that family stuff that your friends are starting to do.

Still with all of that working against me, I was determined to have a good one. Unfortunately, it was a Tuesday, so I still had to go to work. So I put on my new (bad ass) Rolling Stones t-shirt and headed towards the tube.

After I made my usual commute to the office my friends surprised me with breakfast - a handful of mini chocolate muffins and a pair of (delicious) donuts, all with candles. They sang and it was nice, and as previously mentioned, delicious.

Then it was back to work - the perfect remedy for a birthday when you're too old to just get drunk and pass out and too young to hate the thought of getting older and just want to sleep. So we got cracking on our assignments.

At lunch time I made a quick run to Subway for the sub of the day (Tuesday is meatball marinara - and there is no $5 footlong in England. Not even a £5 footlong) and paired it with my birthday present to myself - a can of Mountain Dew, bottled back in the good 'ol US of A with the familiar list of ingredients. Yay America!

After doing a few more hours of work, the group informed me that we had to get going. They had planned my birthday for me and swore to keep it a surprise. Of course after the mega surprise party that Jenn had thrown for me years ago, I've learned to be a little more aware of my surroundings and at least had an idea of what dinner would be like.

It was what I hoped - we went to a place called 'The Big Easy' which is an American themed crabshack and steakhouse. Fantastic. On Tuesdays they also have a great deal, called their deluxe lobster bake. It looks something like this:





That would be a whole Maine lobster, atlantic crab claw, tiger prawns and mussels served with small potatoes and a complimentary Becks. (Not pictured is the incredible belgian waffle ice cream sundae for dessert.) And to make it even more American - when we sat down we noticed an autographed picture of Stevie Wonder, who has eaten there and then they started playing "Kiss" by Prince. It was my own little slice of Americana.

After dinner and dessert I was informed that the party would continue. We hopped on a double decker (and got the front row on the top) and headed towards Picaddilly Circus. There, I was taken to 'Funland' or as I shall refer to it - British Dave and Busters, just without the restaurant. We headed upstairs to the bowling alley and got our bowling on with a few drinks. I was fairly embarrassing, threatening to not break 100 until, when in the 10th frame I finally hit my groove and rolled back to back strikes (the strike dance followed). In the end I had a 106, allowing me to save face.

From there most people headed back home leaving me and Deanna to explore the arcade and play some games. Basically the equivalent of mom and dad going home and leaving the kids alone in a candy store. After waving goodbye to our friends our eyes beemed as we went exploring. The plan was to look around for a while before playing anything, so that we wouldn't waste our time or money on not-worthwhile games.

Of course, within 2 minutes of making this plan we had already started pumping 1 pound coins into Time Crisis 4 to play co-op. It was a lot of fun, and D is a pretty good shot. We finally broke away from the machine and continued looking around. We found bumper cars, but without the rest of the group we took a rain check. More games were played - including the obligatory Sure Shot basketball, some skee-ball, and... a knock-off version of DDR which ended with exhaustion and laughs, mixed with some crushed spirits. Fortunately, digital dancing isn't real dancing just like Guitar Hero isn't playing the guitar.

In the end we cashed in our tickets for 3 bird shaped whistles (one each for D, myself and Julie).
It was the greatest international birthday I ever had, thanks to a great group of Americans.

My hero - the gimp

Despite a hospital visit last Christmas time, reuniting with my doctor in New York before flying over to London and some new medicines, I still haven't been healthy in over a year. Really healthy, like the way you expect to feel on an average day.

It starts to weigh on you after a while. Maybe you start thinking about giving in and resigning yourself to the new status quo. You can start to feel sorry for yourself, no matter how against your nature it may be or how you despise people who post stupid "FML" status messages on the internet like their lives are all that bad. You wind up holding on to your physical and mental state by a thread. You find yourself needing some semblance of hope, or motivation to keep going after all this time.
And then you see a guy hobbling down the street. A gimp, for the un-pc crowd of which I associate, or a "poor soul" as my mom would immediately refer to them. On your first look your immediate emotional response is something like pitty, although you won't admit it. You watch as a veritable dead-leg is half dragged and half flung in front in order to poorly simulate the walking motion you yourself have no issues performing.

Then I took a second to process what I saw.

It's about 8:30 in the morning.This man is wearing a nice suit. Not gaudy, nor pauperish. It's contemporary, stylish and fits him well.
His shoes aren't dull. They're well maintained.
He's got his laptop/messenger back slung over his shoulder, like me and everyone else.

He's on his way to work. He's not feeling sorry for himself or asking anyone for a hand. He walks funny, he knows it, so he leaves early knowing he needs more time to get to the train.
He's got his headphones on and is listening to whatever music makes him happy.
He lives his life, given the hand he's been dealt.
Despite the professional appearance, the nice clothes and the calm demeanor this guy has his middle finger to the sky telling the universe that it can go fuck itself because it's not going to stop him.

He's gangsta
And he's my hero.

A little bit of home in London: Jersey Boys

After years of not being able to get tickets in New York (partially because I was only in the state for brief periods at a time and more with the incredible cost), I was able to score a pair to see the show here in London.

It was GREAT!

A couple of things struck me though about the London theater-going experience, especially since I expected them all to be snooty, uptight, Victorian types.
1) You don't get a Paybill or any sort of complimentary program when you enter. - Rather disappointing
2) You can take your drink from the bar with you to your seat. - Not the case in NY
3) Ushers don't hound you the minute you pull out a camera. My friend Julie was able to take 2 pics of us before the performance started without someone dashing over threatening to remove us or confiscate the camera. - Also, not the case in NY
4) After intermission there was no light dimming or universal announcement to return to your seats. We were back in time yet I still missed that "familiar" signal. - Obviously that's how it's done in New York.

Okay, so on to the show. I knew part of the story - the simple aspect that these guys had gotten into a few scrapes with the law before hitting it big. What I didn't know was all of the turmoil and other stuff that had gone down. It was entertaining and informative (E/I - just like those old "Saved by the Bell" episodes).

The humor was great, although I think most of it was lost on the London crowd who I guess just don't get what it's like to be an Italian from Jersey. Me, an Italian from New York, with roots in the old neighborhoods and countless family stories told over incredibly large holiday meals - I get it.

I don't want to give it away considering I'm probably not the only person back east who wanted to see it but couldn't afford a ticket, but it's a real roller coaster of emotions. What makes it more powerful, of course, are the songs. Especially when you get to "My Eyes Adored You".

Later in the show you're scratching your head wondering what is "this song" that Bobby is so sure is a hit and the record companies and radio stations won't play. Then when Frankie comes out and you hear the first few notes, you almost smack yourself in the head and wonder "what the F were these guys thinking? That's a great F-ing song." Well, if your from NY or NJ you say that. Everyone else can just wonder why it didn't originally get airplay.

It gets sad and happy again from that point on. But in the end, you have a great finale number and even if it took a few years and flying across the Atlantic, you know it was worth it.

Country Roads: Part 6 - On the way to Uncle's

Country Roads Part 6 - On the way to Lou's

Okay where I was I? Oh yea, Sikeston, Missouri in a really nice suite. So I did the usual, woke up, had breakfast, showered and jumped back in the car. Although this day was unlike all of the others, today was the day that I was going to make it to Memphis, Tennesse and get some of Uncle Lou's Fried chicken (as seen on the Food Network). It's not much of an exaggeration to say that it was actually Uncle Lou's which inspired this whole trip across the country.

I had seen it on TV and wanted it. Then I thought to myself - "honestly, when the hell am I ever going to go to Memphis?" Well I made up a reason, to get back to NY from SF. Sure, it's not the most direct route, but like I said, otherwise when would I really ever go to Memphis?

So in the car I hit the push button start and was on my back onto the highway south. I will admit that I got a little nervous for a minute when I saw the sign welcoming me to Arkansas because I had completely missed the fact that my route would take me through R Kansas for about half an hour. Once I had successfully cleared one of the states I was pretty sure that I'd never go to, I was into Tennessee. I was excited. And hot, it was already in the mid-90s and we're not even at noon yet.

As the in car thermometer hit 102 the GPS guided me into the non-tourst part of Memphis where I found Uncle Lou's Famous Fried Chicken in small and somewhat suspicious looking strip mall.

I walked in and despite the fact that there was a Dallas Cowboys flag hanging for some sort of fundraiser or something, I felt right at home. I quickly looked over the menu and decided on the mixed 3 piece meal with Sweet Spicy Love (the mild variety) and a large version of Uncle Lous cool aid. I took a seat at one of the tables and about 10 minutes or so later the man himself, Uncle Lou, emerged from the kitchen with my order. The meal came with french fries and a honey biscuit, both of which were just alright, but the chicken. Oh the chicken. Yeah, it was incredible. Sweet, Spicy Love is the sauce that our sauces should aspire to be. After a great meal I bought a bottle of SSL to bring home to mom to make her KFC take out, awesome.

Back in the car and it's about 105 degrees now as I make towards Kentucky. A few flash rainstorms (my first precipitation of the trip) got the temperature down to a cool 95 degrees. The incredibly hot temperatures have since caused a problem with my memory and I don't really remember the rest of Tennessee. I did stop at a gas station/souvenoir stand to pick up some gifts for my mom and grandfather (he was station in Tennessee during the war and really loved it) but other than that, I don't remember anything else.

Inside of Kentucky I had to fill up at a gas station, I think someways past Frankfurt. I ran in to grab a bottle of water as the temp had gone back up to 97, and was utterly shocked at the incredibly beautiful girl working at the counter. I noticed her as I walked in and made my way to the cooler to grab a bottle of water. As I picked out a bottle I started trying to figure out what the hell she was doing there. She was beauitful so why would she be working in a gas station in the middle of nowhere Kentucky? In NY she would have at least had a photo casting call to model...uhm, something but in Kentucky she was rotting away at a gas station. I wished I didn't have a carload of crap so that I could offer to take her away from this boring life (and 97 degree heat) and bring her back with me to the big city.

I paid for my water and she asked if I needed anything else. My head finally caught up and I scrolled through possible responses about asking for her number, or to run away with me. Instead though, I declined her offer and got back into the car to once again wish I had said something different.

Drove the rest of the way to Lexington where I stayed at a Red Roof Inn. It was pretty pricey but like most nights, I was exhausted when I got there and wasn't going to bother trying to drive around for a better rate. So I unpacked, showered and hit the bed. I was pretty close now - in the Eastern time zone, so it wouldn't be long now.

Preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse

Before I left SF I made a trip to a local shooting range with a friend from school. I was psyched because I had always wondering what it felt like to fire a real firearm. So we headed over the Golden Gate Bridge and made a left just slightly past San Quentin prison.

Inside the range we got to choose our weapon. My goal was to fire a SIG P229 (the standard issue sidearm of NCIS), but had to confess to the guy at the counter that I have never fired live ammo before.

He gave us a .22 revolver and a box of 50 bullets. We also got to choose our target, which was easy since there was a freakin zombie target. I was excited to pump some lead into him.

Out on the actual range, I hung up our zombie, loaded the revolver and squeezed off all six rounds. Due to the small caliber of the bullets I couldn't tell where I had hit on the target. I immediately understood why .22s are for women. Chelsea and I switched off until we had gone through the case of bullets. Afterwards we headed back to the counter to get a bigger gun.

This time I asked for the SIG. We got it and went back to the range, where on my first shot it jammed. Realizing that trying to fix it myself, without a knowledge of how it works could potentially be fatal, I went back to the counter. The guy came back to the range with us and started working on the gun. After a few minutes he declared that the firing pin had broken and we would need another gun. Back at the counter he asked what I would like to go with. Unfortunately I was only able to fire one shot with my Tony Dinozzo SIG, so I told him to just give me anything that would fire the ammo we had just bought (9mm).

This one had weight and the first shot felt much more satisfying than any of the .22s. We polished off our ammo pack and I bent down to police my brass and take a few casings as souvenirs. We exited and paid and then grabbed a quick lunch at In N' Out.

It was only when I got home and looked at my souvenirs that I realized I picked up the wrong shells. I had a .22 from the revolver and meant to have a .9mm from each of the two pistols but upon further inspection I had picked up two .45 caliber shells. it was a bit sad that I grabbed the wrong ones, but I'm still keeping them to remember this experience by.

Country Roads: Part 5 - Barbecue and Burgers

When we last left our hero he was laying down for a night's sleep in Lawrence, Kansas. I awoke the next morning ready to head back out on the road and finish another Agatha Christie murder mystery. First I grabbed some food from the continental breakfast. The bagel was horrible so I jumped into the shower and figured I'd munch on the fruit loops while I was on the road. After my shower I dressed and loaded up the car with no problems, except that I spilled the Fruit Loops in the parking lot. It was a little after 11 so breakfast at McDonald's was out of the question, but I figured I'd stop over for an orange juice and to borrow the Wi-Fi. Then back in the car I could just munch on another mini box of cereal I had brought with me.

I arrived at the Lawrence, KS McDonalds and my jaw dropped. Right there on the door was a sign - "Breakfast served until 11:30am EVERYDAY" (I added the caps). I was shocked, surprised and totally giddy as I probably scared the girl at the counter with my excitement that I could still get my regular breakfast. It was delicious. I mapped out my route and started driving towards my lunch spot - Oklahoma Joe's Barbecue in Kansas City.

As you would probably expect by now, the drive wasn't very exciting. The conclusion of "Murder in Mesopotamia" however was exciting.

After driving by the gas station that houses Oklahoma Joes I finally figured out where it was and was able to get a parking spot fairly close to the door, which was good since it was already 97 degrees. Now, I had looked up places in Kansas that Food Network had been to (specifically Triple D), but none of them were barbecue places. So I ran a Google search for the best barbecue in Kansas City. Oklahoma Joes was right at the top, and since it's inside of a gas station, I had to check it out.

So what did I order? The 2 meat combo plate - brisket and ribs which comes with 2 slices of buttered toast, a side of french fries and large styrofoam cup of Mountain Dew. I took my tray and found a counter stool by the window, facing out by my car. I immediately grabbed 2 sections of paper towel and was ready to dig in. From the beginning it had the makings of my best meal of the trip. I ate the brisket and while it was good I immediately regretted not having ordered the sausage instead. Oh well. Then I dug into the ribs. Yeah... Kansas City knows barbecue. The meat was perfect. Stays on the bone until it hits your mouth and then slides right off. Great flavor, great color and that's all you can ask for. I alternated rib and toast for a while, occasionally sipping on some Dew. When I finished, I was done. I began to worry about falling asleep at the wheel thanks to a food coma but figured that if I filled up the cup with some more Mountain Dew that could keep me awake until St. Louis.

On the way out I bought a bottle of their CowTown barbecue sauce to bring home to mom.

Back in the car and on the road, it's time for another mystery and some music. I was into Missouri now and really had no expectations until I hit St. Louis. And then I saw what I believed to be a mirage on the highway. I couldn't believe that I had seen what I thought I had seen. But if it was real, I couldn't let it pass by. I jumped off at the next exit to investigate. Had I been wrong and it was a mirage I would only lose about 5 minutes. If I was right I'd have a story to tell.

I pulled off at the exit for Wentzville, Missouri. It reminded me a bit of the Cortland Town Center in Mohegan Lake in terms of colors and structure for a strip mall. By now I had confirmed I was not seeing things and anticipation was building. It was only fitting that the Rolling Stones were playing as I pulled in to...

White Castle.

I ordered light, since I still had a few hundred miles to St. Louis and well, they don't call 'em Belly Bombers for nothing. So 2 burgers and an order of chicken rings. Of course I couldn't experience this alone, I sent texts to several people and called back to NY to my White Castle compatriot, Richie, who would appreciate this.

His first question, "any white people there?"
"They all are." I answered.

Not only that, but there was no bullet proof glass in front of the counter. It was a strange sight for me to see. But the food was still the food, so it was all good and I was back on the road.

As I was driving I realized this would probably be the best food day of the trip - the best McDonalds in the country, great barbecue and then White Castle. And I still hadn't eaten dinner yet.

I pulled into St. Louis and eagerly started looking for the Arch. I made the mistake of using the GPS again and all it could find was "St. Louis Art". Great, big help.

I eventually made my way over and found a parking lot to drop the car off while I did the tourist thing. First stop, of course, was the Mississippi River. I took some pictures, stuck my hand and acted like a real tourist. Then it was over to the arch. I didn't go inside for time and money constraints, but did stand in what I believe to be roughly the exact middle. Took some pictures, went over to Busch Stadium and took some more pictures, grabbed a burger at Hardees (specifically to use the restroom) and was then back in the car around 8 or so as the sun was going down.

Trying to make it as close to Memphis as I could, without running into my Arizona/Utah problem, when the GPS started reading "Low Battery", I had it find me a local hotel. Another Best Western in Sikeston, Missouri, so I figured it'd be pretty cheap. I pulled in and asked for a room. $73.95. At this point I was pretty tired from all the heat, and wasn't sure if the GPS had enough juice to get me to another place, so I reluctantly said yes.

I got the key to my room and brought my first load of stuff in. I opened the door and looked to the left for a light switch, turned on the lights and expected to see a small bathroom off to the side. Instead I found what looked like a closet. I looked ahead and didn't see a bed, instead I saw a mini-fridge with microwave, a couch, coffee table and arm chair. I stepped in a little more and saw a TV and desk and another room. Inside of the other room was a king sized bed, dresser, another TV, 2 lamp tables and then a separate bathroom. I suddenly wasn't so pissed about the price for the night. I brought in the rest of my stuff and then took a refreshing shower before going to bed.

Sikeston, Missouri - Southern Hospitality starts here. That's what the brochures say, and I'm inclined to agree.

Country Roads: Part 3 - Highway to Heaven

I awoke on Day 3 around 6am as the sun began to shine through the windshield. I thought about repositioning myself so that the light wasn't in my eyes and trying to sleep a little more, but figured that it wouldn't be long before the hotel staff were awake and discovered me. And the last thing I wanted was to pay for a hotel room I didn't get to sleep in.

So I turned on the car and continued my journey. I needed gas so I made an almost immediate stop at the first place I saw. Bought a 24oz Lemon-Lime Gatorade for breakfast, took most of my medication (all of the important ones) and chowed down on a mini box of Fruit Loops I had packed for just such an emergency. Then I headed out.

I had crossed into Utah under the cover of night so I didn't really see much of it until the next day. The mountains were beautiful. I stopped at a few "scenic turnoffs" to snap some pictures. Then I would jump back in the car and continue to press onward.

Around the town of MOAB, Utah I passed by a McDonalds and needing to pee decided this was a good place to stop. Besides, since I had been driving since 6am I definitely deserved a proper breakfast. As I walked in I noticed the "Free Wi-Fi" sign on the door and after using the lavy (practicing for London), I ran back to my car and got my laptop.

I ordered the usual, 2 sausage biscuits and a medium OJ, and sat down to enjoy and map out my route for the day. I was heading towards Denver. And after the incident the night before, I was more vigilant in looking up places to stay. I got addresses and phone numbers in case the GPS crapped out on me before I got someone, I could call and ask for directions. I also updated my fledgling fantasy baseball teams, responded to some emails and updated my Facebook status. Honestly I could work out of a McDonalds now a days.

I got back in the car, directions in hand, breakfast in belly and continued my tour of Utah. I passed by a small shop offering ATV and Dirt Bike tours and turned around to drive by it 3 more times. I was seriously considering it, as it is on my life's to do list. However, I was exhausted. I realized that it wouldn't be as fun or safe in my current condition. So I continued towards I-70. Once I got on, I pulled over at the first gas station, circled around back and grabbed myself a trucker nap.

I woke up an hour or so later as the sun was now high over head and it was starting to heat up in the desert. I went inside the convenience mart, where I picked up some water and an enticing looking ice cream treat - Snickers Brownie Bar. It was damn good. I got back in the car and kept driving.

A little later on I pulled off again to grab another nap. This time it was at a Kum and Go convenience store. I mention the name only because this is obviously the work of a copywriter. Someone decided that they absolutely had to use a "U" instead of the "O "and "E". Then they realized it may be offensive and unappetizing to, well just about everyone, so they kicked out the "C" and replaced it with a "K" to add a coolness factor to it. I laughed a lot at that.

Back in the car and the day is really long. Stopped for gas and grabbed a quick bite at a Wendy's. But the real hero was the Frizzle.

It's like a slurpee. Whatever this chain of stores' brand. There were two options, "Rock n' Roll" which looked to be a combination of berries and "Dragon Fruit" which seemed to have grapes and a dragonfruit. I made my decision in the only logical way possible. Which one was purpler, because purple-ness is next to godliness. The Dragonfruit won out.

It was incredibly delicious.

Back on the road and I was into Colorado now. I had passed through maybe 2 counties and had seen the rockies (Rich, they really are big. John Denver wasn't lying) in the distance. Now I was driving on what I will forever call the "Highway to Heaven".

This has to be the most beautiful stretch of road in the country. You're driving in between the mountains. The Colorado River is on your side. East and West traffic are separated. There are tunnels through the mountains. The speed limit is 75mph. There's nothing about it that isn't perfect.

Remember in the end of Gladiator, when Russell Crowe is dying and he sees himself walking through the golden fields on the way to his family? I'd like this stretch of road to be what I see when I reach that moment. It's truely remarkable.

So after all that I made it to Denver. I passed by Invesco Field and stopped at a Burger King which had Wi-Fi (to change it up, plus I had a gift card) and got directions to a nearby motel. I called to check availability this time and the woman at the counter told me not to worry. So I inputted the coordinates into Google Maps and was off.

20 minutes later I was back at Burger King. Since my battery in my laptop was dying I didn't pay attention to my starting location, which was wrong, and therefore gave me directions I could never follow. I plugged in after finding an available outlet and re-tried to get directions.

Driving down the road I saw the hotel to my right. Then a sign saying the bridge was out. I went down the next turn and tried to find my way about 700 feet over to get to the hotel. Couldn't do it. Got frustrated and went to look for another way there. Came back again and this time noticed the orange Detour signs. Followed them and got to the hotel.

$39.99 for the night.

I wasn't expecting much. But they had a laundry room so I decided to wash all of the dirty laundry I was bringing with me (since it was the only bag of clothes I could reach and had worn the same shirt and shorts for the past 2 days). When I got to my room I was amazed.

A fridge. Not the mini kind, the same size as my apartment in Binghamton all those years ago.
A microwave.
A sink (kitchen).
A stove.
Plenty of outlets.
A king sized bed.
Plus free Wi-Fi

It was great. I ran down and put my laundry in. Brought up some drinks from the cooler and put them in the fridge. Started charging everything. When the clothes were done I got in the shower, did some internet work and then, around 1 or 2 in the morning, finally went to bed.

Country Roads: Part 2 - He's a Highway Child/Gimme Gimme Shelter

After an exciting, and grueling first day I decided to take advantage of the noon check-out time for my hotel in Vegas.

I woke up around 20 after 10 in order to catch the end of breakfast in the hotel restaurant - it wasn't free but $3.50 a short stack of pancakes isn't bad. Of course when you throw on the apple juice and the side of bacon it turned into an $8 breakfast, but whatever, I need to eat.

After breakfast I went back to my room, showered, and packed up my things. My route was already planned out, I'm going to the Grand Canyon. But first, a stop for lunch at a place featured on Diner's, Drive-Ins, and Dives, "The 4 Kegs".

Guy Fieri was actually a regular customer there when he went to UNLV. I threw the coordinates into the GPS and despite the 95 degree heat, made it. I grabbed a booth next to a sort of wall of fame, where Guy had signed some pictures. I also had a good view of 2 TVs - one showing the Italy World Cup match, and the other college baseball, but with the ESPN bottom line. After weighing my options (something I really have to do when eating out), I decided to throw caution into the wind and order one of the 4 Kegs strombolis. I got the meatball one. I hoped I wouldn't regret subjecting my stomach to it.

It came and looked great. I bit into it and it was gr... friggin hot! I was eventually able to get some in my mouth and was very happy I ordered it. The crust was light and crisp and the meatballs were good. As I was eating Italy tied their match at 1 and earned a draw. After powering through half of the stromboli I was ready to depart.

Back in the car and on to the Grand Canyon! Except that I was stuck in traffic before the Hoover Dam for an hour, maybe longer as there's only 1 lane to go through the security check. To kill some time I called my mom to check in and tell her everything was good - minus the traffic and the heat.

After a long time I finally got past security and got to drive on the Hoover Dam into Arizona. From there it was pretty smooth sailing until I was stopped again on my way into Grand Canyon National Park. Not as much of an inconvenience, just wondered why the line I was on moving about 6 times slower than the other one. Then I saw the $25 access charge and cursed TJ in my head again. Regardless, I got into the park as the sun was getting ready to set. I parked by the visitor's center, grabbed my camera and headed over to the South Rim.

I took a bunch of pictures and tried to get the sunset-ting effect but the SLR kept making things brighter. So I played a little with the aperture and shutter speed, although I'm not sure I made anything better. I silently wished Manolo was around so I could ask him how to take the picture I wanted. Oh well. I suppose I should get a book of digital photography basics, or ask Julie to explain and help me learn, when I see her in London. Her photos are great and I'm not a complete moron, so she should be able to teach me.

Anyway, I got back in the car as the sun had nearly gone down, and started driving out the other side of the park. It was getting darker and darker and I began to plan where to spend the night. I also wanted to make sure that I got enough mileage in, so that I didn't set myself back on the time I predicted for the trip.

I kept driving and looking at the signs for upcoming towns. I eventually settled on Kayenta, Arizona and had the GPS navigate me to a Hampton Inn. I got out of the car and went to the front door.

Locked.
That's strange.

Oh well, there's a Holiday Inn on the otherside of the street and a little ways up. I went in and asked for a room - they were booked. The woman told me that she was pretty sure that the Hampton Inn (that I had come from) and the Best Western down the street were also fully booked. Now if I was smart I would have asked what the hell was going on that all the hotels were booked, but it was late, I was tired and now needed to drive further.

With the GPS as my guide I kept searching for a place to spend the night. By now we're approaching 1 in the morning.

Funny thing, Arizona isn't really dense with hotels so you have to drive a fairly long ways. I went to 3 or 4 more hotels, many closed for the night where I'd have to call to get someone to come back to the hotel. Plus it seemed like $99 for the night was the best deal.

So after visiting hotel number 5 or 6 since finding out that I had no place to stay, I decided to (smartly) rough it. I pulled around back of a nice looking hotel, found an empty parking space, turned the car off, set my cell phone alarm and put my hat over my eyes to get some sleep because it was now after 2am.

It wasn't the most comfortable rest and I only got a few hours (maybe 3), but now I have this story.

Country Roads: Part 1B - Yosemite Sam's a one arm bandit

Car is loaded up and all I need to do is pay to get out of the garage. It's $27 for 24 hours, I had the car parked there 30 or so, and it's $27 for a lost ticket. I've got a brilliant idea - I'll just tell the guy I lost my ticket.

Apparently, I'm not the only genius to have this idea. He tells me to pull the car up to the gate because he has to check the license. Great, I'm gonna get busted before the trip starts and all I wanted to do was save a few bucks for a slurpee on the road. Hey I don't know, maybe he couldn't find it or karma bailed me out but he let me go with a $27 payment and didn't say anything to indicate I had done something "naughty". Now that's a good sign for the trip.

Of course because I'm cliche I turned on "Highway to Hell" as I began the trip. Drove over the Bay Bridge for the first time, was surprised that they don't charge for it, figured that was another good sign and headed out towards Yosemite National Park.

I inputted "Yosemite National Park" into my GPS (a Garmin Nuvi - just so you know) and got the directions. They differed a bit from what I had copied down on Google Maps, but then again Yosemite is pretty big and just figured this was taking me to a different part of the park. Besides, it's easier to look at the little screen on the dash than it is to fumble through a notepad and read stuff.

So yeah. The GPS took me to a park on Yosemite Ave, in a residential section of Merced, CA. I tried several combinations, menus, etc. to find the big fucking NATIONAL PARK listing, but it doesn't appear to exist in the Garmin world. Fucking GPS.

It's a good thing I've hated it just about since I bought it, don't trust it, and had the written instructions, which I followed. Amazing that GPS systems cost money, Google Maps is free and only 1 of them knows how to get to one of the largest national parks in the United States.

When the GPS tapped out and read "Low Battery" after 3 hours or so, I gladly turned it off.

Got to Yosemite and was shocked that you have to pay to get in. Not only that, but it's $20. Silently cursed T.J. in my head. Got into the park and didn't really know what to look for/do - other than I'd be exiting the other side. Sort of got lost, but more like didn't really take the most efficient route, but saw some cool waterfalls and took some (hopefully) good pictures*. Also encountered one of the nastiest and smelliest restrooms/outhouses in the world. Unfortunately when you've got to pee, you've got to pee. That's why there's pocket sized hand sanitizer.

So after I had my fill of beautiful natural scenery (and forgiven T.J. in my head) I started to make my way to the other end of the park. Here's the problem. The speed limit is like 30mph (which makes sense), except that when you chart your course on Google Maps it estimates time/distance combos at around 60mph. So yeah... it was a lot later than I planned on when I got out of Yosemite.

Not a problem though, I just won't drive all the way to Vegas. I'll stop somewhere after I get my 577 miles in. (That's the number per day that I calculated to do my original route in 7 days). Besides, it's almost 10:30pm and I started driving at 10:30am.

Now here's the fun part.

After I passed by a small village with places to sleep at 540 miles or so, I was all set to spend the night in the next area listed on the road signs. Except, it was just a few gas stations.

Okay, I'll stay at the next one.

No lodging.

The next one? Gas station.

So now I'm looking at the upcoming areas signs posted on the road, it's nearly midnight, and there's just one option left.

You guessed it, Vegas.

In a way, I was sort of happy. I'd be doing an all day drive to get to Vegas, at night, and come barreling down onto the strip in all it's glory. Plus, since my original plan was to make it to Vegas on Day 1 (not a complicated feat other than getting slowed down in Yosemite by the low speed limit) - I knew of a cheap place to crash. Even had the address.

I hit the Vegas city limits and I'm looking at exit signs for Las Vegas Blvd. Can't find any. Okay, now we're having problems. Get off at one of the exits and try to find it. Not working. I momentarily thought about calling Mr. Scott back home (since he knows Vegas like I know the script to the movie "Clue") but 3am may be early even for him. So I made a desperate move. I tried to turn on my GPS.

To my surprise it worked and after some fiddling had the address entered. Of course it gave me 2 options, North Las Vegas Blvd, or South. I chose North. I followed it and didn't see the Howard Johnson. Problem. However, I did pass by a Best Western, so I back tracked it over there, crossed my fingers it wasn't more than $60 a night and went in.

$49.95 for the night. It's about 12:30-1 in the morning when I get to my room. I set everything to charge, crank the AC, plan a little of Day 2's route and get to sleep.

*A note about pictures from this trip - I'll add them at the end. I shot/shoot everything in RAW format on my SLR so will do some editing/correcting in Photoshop. (Read as: Manolo told me to do this, so I do it even though I have no idea what I'm doing).

We've come to the end of the road

I'm sitting here, in my room in San Francisco, while everyone else is out. I've been having abdominal pains for most of the day. My room is cluttered, yet without life and personality as most of my important belongings have long since been shipped back to NY or, in the case of my beloved big screen, sold earlier this evening.

Tomorrow figures to be a day of mostly packing, culminating in a trip down to Sunnyvale to pick up my car one last time. Park it overnight in a nearby lot and spent a good portion of the night packing it. If I'm feeling better I may break to have one last hurrah at one of the nearby bars, or randomly call people from school to see who is around and out. When that fails, I'll have a drink alone. Fitting.

As I was about to leave NY I wrote a lot about how I felt, the excitement of "starting" my life, reflecting back on those people who had made the most impact and wondering how I'd get on without them.

Nearly three years later has my life actually "started", or did it do that back in August 1982 and I've just been too caught up in looking for a big moment to realize it? Those same great friends who shaped me into the person that was able to come to California have all since changed. Marriage for many, new jobs for others and we haven't been as close. No visits since I moved. We've only seen each other when I made the effort to come home. That stings.

I spent a fair amount of energy and time ragging on California, comparing it unfavorably to New York and various other things that I could easily see coming across as hatred for the state or the city of California. Neither of which are true. While it is true that I can honestly say that I don't belong/fit here, I cannot diminish that it was this three year adventure that taught me that as well as many other undiscovered things about myself. For that I can be nothing other than grateful.

A big thank you to all, for this life changing experience. I'm finally up in the driver's seat of my own life rather than sitting in the back watching the trees pass by and occasionally asking for the radio to be turned up. Without further ado, the payoff to this post - my attempt at summarizing my time in California with the soundtrack of my life:

1 - California; Phantom Planet - it's happy, upbeat and like me was full of hope when I arrived
2 - California Love; Tupac and Dr. Dre - "well let me welcome everybody to the wild wild west", thank you very much. Nice to be here.
3 - Welcome to the Good Life; Kanye West - going to work for Google and riding high
4 - You Can't Always Get What You Want; The Rolling Stones - the gig at Google isn't what I thought it was going to be, I start to discover other abilities and interests
5 - Fat Lip; Sum 41 - "don't wanna fall in line, be another victim of your conformity" decided that I don't like the Google Kool-Aid. (Regular Kool-Aid however is delicious)
6 - Renegades of Funk; Rage Against the Machine - start the ConOps question wall and co-found the ConOps Fun Council. Outlet for creativity created, countdown started
7 - Gives You Hell; The All-American Rejects - part ways with Google
8 - Juicy; Notorious B.I.G. - complete 1st quarter at Miami Ad School and attend graduation. Mentally re-write this song to be my graduation speech
9 - Public Service Announcement; Jay-Z - win an award for White Castle work, start to come into my own at MAS
10 - New York State of Mind; Billy Joel - always in the back of my head as I continually find slight differences in perception and attitude on the West Coast that I really don't like. (If you're driving a Smart car or riding a Vespa you should be laughed at by everyone, not just me)
11 - Killing in the Name of; Rage Against the Machine - quarter away locations announced, mass competition to go to London. Only know one way to compete, kill 'em all, take no prisoners.
12 - London Calling; The Clash - I am as good as I say I am
13 - Country Roads; John Denver - decide that I have one chance left to drive cross country and this time I'm going to do it.
14 - Here I go Again; Whitesnake - "I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin." - Neo, the Matrix
15 - Good; Better than Ezra - Giving crap is something I do as a term of endearment. It was good living with you.
16 - End of the Road; Boyz II Men - where do you think I got the title from?
17 - Take another little piece of my heart in San Francisco; Janis Joplin/Tony Bennett mashup that I should create - It'll never be "home" but it was for a while. Maybe I'll be able to look back years from now as the place I got my start. The place I came into my own. Maybe it's just three years of bad pizza. Whatever it is, it's a part of me.

McRib Road Trip

It's been an exhausting day, let me tell you.

My alarm woke me up at 8am because I was silly ambitious enough to believe that I could take my medication, a shower, eat breakfast, pack, catch the bus and then catch the 9:15 train. At 8:20 I packed it in realizing that wasn't going to happen. Reset the alarm for quarter to 9 and tried again.

This time I was up, showered, packed and had my pop-tart as I was on my way to the bus. The bus dropped me off at the Caltrain station with about 15 minutes to spare so I figured that was enough time to grab a donut and hot chocolate for the almost 80 ride to Sunnyvale (on weekends all trains run local and with Oregon in town to play Stanford they added an extra stop. Oh joy). Anyway I got to Happy Donut and ordered. Unfortunately, there were a few other people and only 1 woman running the counter so it took a bit longer than expected - i.e. I bought my ticket for the 10:15 train about about 10:14 and jumped on seconds before it started to pull away from the station. Great beginning to the trip.

I managed to catch a minimal amount of zzzs on the train, maybe 20 minutes, after I had finished my donut and hot chocolate. They were good, not Dunkin Donuts good, but not something to complain about. When the train finally reached Sunnyvale I jumped off and began the mile walk to my old apartment. Okay fine, it's .9miles according to Google Maps but I have to change sides of the street so I round up. I was relieved when I made it to my car, one because she was still there in one piece and two because it meant that this trip was really ready to begin. I piled my gear in, selected the first CD and promptly headed to 7-11 to get some on the road nurishment. I was really looking forward to a bear claw but they didn't have any, so I grabbed a frosted apple danish and a Revive Vitamin Water. As I explain in the video, it was a bit too early for the Mountain Dew Big Gulp. I wound up barely drinking any of the Vitamin Water as the hot chocolate just sort of kept me full.

Anyway, after packing up the snacks I programed the GPS and hit the road. I reached California's famed Highway 101 at 12:27pm. The GPS told me that I would be riding it for about 247 miles and at the time I thought nothing of it. Unbeknownst to me, that at about 55 miles out, just past Gilroy, 101 is no longer a freeway and just a two lane road. Almost like the Taconic but without the familiarity I was baffled as to how fast I could go, so I just found some cars and kept up with them.

Then the farmland came. The cows, the crops, the John Deere tractors, all of it. Some of the hills and mountains in the distance were really nice, but oh my god was it boring as hell to drive though. This of course, went on for hours. At around 2:30pm I convinced myself to pull over and stretch/get some gas (I was running at half a tank). About 10 minutes and $31 later I was back on the road. Here's where it started to get fun. When I originally set out my GPS said my arrival time would be 4:40pm. Just before I took a break I had gotten it down to 4:32pm. When I jumped back in the car it was suddenly at 4:42pm and I wasn't happy. Still a two lane road, now with some trucks and stuff so speed is anything but constant. I'm probably about 70 miles from the exit I'm supposed to take off of 101 when my GPS informs me that it's low on battery. Just fucking great. I didn't need it to tell me to keep driving 200 miles and countdown for me, but now when I'm going to need actual directions you're going to crap out on me. Brilliant. I really think I bought into the hype of those things too much. I hate it. I think all of your problems can be solved with a paper map, a navigator or an internet capable phone that can display Google Maps.

I'm getting close to the turn-off and the scenery is incredible. I'm in Pismo Beach, I discover after checking a sign or two. Unfortunately it doesn't last for ever and we're back to farm country. Finally get to make the turn-off. Signs are telling me that Santa Barbara is only another 70 miles away - I can't wait. Then I notice that the next turn I need to make is to get onto 101 South (in about 20 miles). That's the exact road I just got off of. Again, California's highway system is retarded. Also, many fewer rest stops, and small road side conveniences than you'd notice. Jersey - 1, California - 0. So I'm heading towards 101 (again) when guess what? You know it. The GPS goes black. So I know the next direction is to get on 101 S and after that I guess aim the car at the water and try not to go through any walls? I manage to get a few quick glimpses as to the next direction before the battery totally dies. This of course requires me to re-turn on the GPS, wait for it to load, accept the warning not to type or input things while driving, and then hit the map button - while driving; 3 times. I manage to wind up on a road and see a sign for a visitors information booth. Bingo I can find information there.

Except that they're charging $3 for parking and I don't know where the hell I am. So I pass it up and start driving down, what I now know, is Castillo St, right near the harbor. It's really pretty and the sun is starting to set. Well I need to find State St to get my McRib or find a place to stay for the night. (Lesson learned, plan this part in advance for all future trips). I pass by a few streets, and see a bunch of small little motels, all with bright red "No Vacancy" signs. Okay, that's a problem I'll tackle later. I finally find State St and start counting the numbers, I"m looking for 1213. I'm at 26. Great. State St. is the main drag, like you see in all of those movies - typical California. The sides are littered with shops, and restaurants, there are pedestrian crossings every half block and stupid traffic lights. Traffic goes at a snails pace. Oh, and there's no streetside parking either. Despite all of that, I finally make it to the 1200 block and spot MckieDs on my left. At the corner I make a right and follow the signs for a parking garage. I park and grab my video camera, I'm gushing with excitement and the need to pee. I exit the parking lot, cross the street and enter. There are signs, signs saying "The McRib is back!" I'm so happy, it's not in vain. As is expected the guy in front of me takes way too long to order. I wrote a pretty funny short piece about that in high school but can't seem to find a backup copy anywhere. When I'm home I'll have to look for the original paper and re-type it, because it was good. Anyway, there's some funny commentary of me on the video whispering behind him how I will kill him if he doesn't hurry up.

When it's finally my turn I excitedly tell the girl "I want the McRib meal!" She asks if I want the large and for no reason I say "yes". I pay for the food and wait for my order number to be called. I get it and sit down, anxiously awaiting to see the treatment of the McRib. It's got it's own special box! It's big, not the little McRib Jr. they tried to pass off during one of the "McRib farewell tours" years back. This thing is big. I open the buns to check - onions, pickles and sauce. We're good. I close the sandwich back up and take a bite.

Delicious. Look, I know it's probably unreasonable to say that a single food item could be worth traveling 300 miles (when I travel 3,000 back to NY it's for several food items), but it sure seemed close. I loved every bite and the possibly two minutes it took to devour. I think I wiped my mouth twice or it would have been less. After enjoying both the meal and the afterglow I returned to the counter and asked what time they closed that night. 10pm was the answer. Great. I'm in good shape. I exited and looked to tackle my next obstacle. Uhm, I have nowhere to sleep. I started walking up State St. to see if I could find some more hotels, motels, Holiday Inns. With the GPS out of commission I was sorta left to hoofing it. I walked up past the 1800 block and found one place with vacancy. It wasn't much of anything and I had set a reservation price at around $50 when I left. When I saw how Santa Barbara was laid out I figured I'd have to raise it, especially being Saturday night, but still didn't want to over pay. The guy said it was $99 for the night. For that crappy place, I couldn't do it. So now I was a bit worried as I walked back to the lighted sections of the town.

Oh yeah, aside, since I was planning on taking pictures of Santa Barbara at sunset. By 6pm it was completely black, like midnight anywhere else. And the streets are pretty poorly lit so there's no pictures of anything. What a bummer.

So as I'm heading back realizing that all the signs I've previously seen said "No Vacancy", don't have a GPS or Internet connection to help me find new places, I'm sorta fucked. Then I decide to do the unthinkable. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I went back to the car and got my laptop and GPS and charger and headed to Starbucks. I waited 10 minutes or so for a table near an outlet to open up and began charging my GPS. Oh yeah, I ordered a small "Signature Hot Chocolate" for $2.95. They called it a "tall" when they gave it to me but the think was anything but. It also wasn't that good. The medium, actual medium, hot chocolate I got at Happy Donuts for $1.64 earlier that morning was far better. Fucking pretentious Starbucks assholes. Then there's the best part. Since when did Starbucks stop giving away free Internet? I'm sure it was a while ago and I didn't get the memo because I never got there, but now I really have no reason to ever again. So my laptop is useless and I'm waiting for my GPS to charge but that only helps if you pick a specific location it can get you there. I needed Google Maps.

I won't say Verizon to the rescue because I was able to use my phone inspite of them, but it was a saving grace. Note to self, upgrade to Android phone as soon as possible so that I can use the internet when I'm in a bind. Anyway, I wrote down the names of some hotels and played some Elite Beat Agents while waiting for the GPS to charge. Still couldn't beat the last level. GPS is charged, the crappy hot chocolate is done and I'm done laughing at everyone at Starbucks so I'm out.

Into the car I program the hotel. Holiday Inn Express sounds good. If I'm going to have to pay more than I wanted, I better get a name I trust. Of course the GPS tells me to go the wrong way on a way one street and then I somehow pass it, which then renders the GPS useless because if you pass the destination it thinks you, I have no idea what the fuck it thinks, but it doesn't show you how to get back there if you miss it. Helpful.

So driving around Santa Barbara is like driving around those little towns on the Jersey Shore. No lights, small signs and one ways going the way you don't want them to go. I wind up lost I think a town or two over. Great. Pick a new hotel so that the GPS is no longer useless. Days Inn. Should be affordable. After some fighting I convince the GPS that I can't drive through a gate onto a private road and we find away around. I reach the Days Inn to find no vacancy. But at least now I know how to get to Castillo, that main strip. I find a place with vacancy and park the car. But rather than go in, I head a few blocks up to show around. Pass another with vacancy to find a third. So I figure I'll work my way backwards. That third place has a 2 queen available for $149. And now I'm realizing I'm screwed again. Head back to place #2 which now suddenly has "No Vacancy". Great. Head back to where I left the car, still don't go in because I decide I'm going to play with fire. I head to State St. A few blocks up I come across a small hotel whose name I recognized from Google Maps. The guy tells me it's $69 a night plus tax. I walk out and head half way up the street to see if I see anything else. At this point it's around quarter after 9 and McDonalds closes at 10. I quickly dart back in and take the room. Then I run back to the car and drive to McDonalds. Stash it on a side street and make my order - 2 McRibs and a medium Sprite.

Side note - this McDonalds was really weird. Aside from having the McRib, all size drinks are $1 and Big Macs are $1.50.

Anyway, I collect my order and run back to the car. Hop in, pull a U-ie and head back to the hotel. Grab all my backs run up to the room and scarf two 2 more McRibs, both delicious. Now I'm exhausted, I've written this to be posted when I get back home and have an Internet connection and I'm going to call it a day/night.

Although I'm not really looking forward to the ride back. Oh well. All in all, I think this will be a great story.

Built from the parts of lesser nerds

Full disclosure: I'm laying in bed, under my covers drinking a bottle of chocolate milk as I write this. Probably the most fitting scenario possible.

Now I'm not claiming superiority or anything like that - I worked at Google and even though I could hold my own in some circles, I met and saw some people who were well beyond me. But that's at Google. When lined up against the relative "norm" of the population I score pretty well on nerd and geek, with computers. For the most part I've managed to keep myself out of the Dungeons & Dragons, cosplay, Anime import, etc. groups. To my friends back home I am the nerd they call with technical questions and many are somewhat impressed that I built a computer for my mom for Mother's Day a few years ago - because the idea of building a computer on your own is so foreign, but mostly because doing that for your mom on Mother's Day is just so gosh darn sweet.

So the other day my mom called me because a friend of her's at work needs to get a new computer - and apparently I have "Nerd to Call" status in the PS105 teaching circle, which is actually nice. So I asked my mom the simple questions, what is she looking to do with it, what programs does she need, how much does she want to spend - the basics. Of course, I got the response I was expecting - bare minimums. That's no fun. But I rattled off some tech. specs to look for on the showroom floor, cautioned about particular components to avoid and threw in some opinion on other things. My mom was happy for the assist and passed along that her friend would be thankful as well.

It was nice to do a mitzvah like that, unfortunately they happen too infrequently for me, but it always leaves me with an emptiness in my mouth. I want more, a bare essentials machine has no excitement for me. Sure, I realize that some people don't do all of the things I do, but why not? It's really not that complicated and it so fun.

So since I've last spoken to my mom I've been compulsively checking out sites and articles for parts and ideas. I keep going back to the idea of a Home Theater PC (HTPC), since the machine I currently have is just about 75% there, but I don't really have money for parts. Besides, as much as I love my box and if asked to sell it would demand an exorbitant sum for it just out of sentimental value, I would want to start over from scratch with a new project, a new idea.

As a way to stave off my frustration with not having the financial capabilities to build a new machine, let alone the space, time or necessary power outlets - I've gotten very nostalgic and tried to back track how I got here to this hobby and occasional obsession.

When I was small my family always had a computer in the house. Sometimes more than one. Either my dad saw the future in them, was equally interested (which I'm pretty sure was part of it), or found a way to steal them from his office without ever being detected. Whatever the case was, I saw them go from a single 5.25" drive to a pair, to a 5.25" and a 3.5" to just two 3.5" disks to installing my first CD-ROM drive a year or so after my dad left. I was maybe 11 at the time and while nervous, still pretty confident that I could install this new piece of hardware. Of course I left out tons of stuff, VGA, Super VGA, DOS, Direct Access, Windows 3.11 and all of that, because that just starts going down a pretty nerdy path. Games were pretty much the driving influence in my interest in the technology. As games got more complex specs increased and mediums changed. A 3.5" disk holds a lot more memory (1.21MB) than a 5.25" (I think they were 785K) so it was more convenient to install 12 disks for Wordperfect than 25. Haha, we actually did stuff like that back then. With games leading the reasoning I also became aware of other great new technologies. I was on the "internet" in 1988(citation needed) without even knowing it. We had a 12.2k modem hooked up for a while. I watched baseball on the Super VGA monitor a couple of times - one machine had a TV tuner card in it. Speakers, microphones and all of these great things that really had no practical use at the time except for showing off or making your kids go "wow." Like the mouse. That was a mind fuck.

Anyway, at 27 it's fairly obvious now that this is part of my life, though I probably would have told myself "well duh" back in the 80s. I suppose there was a chance that I'd grow out of it or lose interest, but there are too many shiny accessories and that's usually my downfall. So I'd just like to hope that my life continues in such a way that I'll always be in a position to explore and keep up with this. Maybe even build a Home Theater PC for my kid when he asks why all the other kids dad's took them to Best Buy and asked them to pick something out and all he got was a UPS truckload from Newegg.

So if you're reading this and you're looking at your old machine, on it's last legs, running slow and unable to do new things, why not give your friend Bob here a call. You'll get a certified, 1 of a kind machine that you can show off to all your friends, and you'll have an extra happy friend.

My best friend's wedding - better than any movie

This is obviously long overdue, but I've been incredibly busy. But that's for another post. This one is all about Mike's wedding.

So you may remember from the Mike's bachelor party recap, that I had arrived to JFK at something like 7am on Friday and gone to the bachelor party that night. Saturday was a day of rest and relaxation reserved for me and the family. My mom, sister and I did our best to cram two birthdays in (my sister's b-day was Friday and mine would be Monday, the day I flew back to Cali).

Sunday morning I woke up bright and early. Well, my version of bright and early - around 10, 10:30am. My mom had pancakes and bacon waiting, because she is just as good as I tell people she is and there was a Revive Vitamin Water in the fridge. Whether it's placebo or that bottle actually contains magic in it, I don't know or care, but it's how I start big days like this or recover from really great nights. I jumped in the shower and got myself ready like it was 9pm and me and the gang were getting ready for a night of legendary partying. In essence that's what I was getting ready for, just with the eternal love and commitment part crammed in the middle there. Oh, and there would be more people than we have ever rolled with. So out of the shower I had the music blasting as I dressed, slowly and methodically. I checked myself after adding each layer to make sure it was just right. After all, I was going to my best friend's wedding, no time for wrinkles, creases, static or anything like that. After finally applying the ceremonial brass buttons to the tux shirt and buttoning up the vest I was out the door, jacket in hand to Mike's to meet up with the rest of the groomsmen for pictures and to catch our ride.

Upon arriving at Mike's I discovered that our tuxes did in fact come with those little pocket squares. I thought it was odd that we weren't getting them. After questioning everyone where they got there's I ran back home and checked a small, inconspicuous bag that hung from the hanger. The pocket square was obstructed by a business card type thing that made me believe it was nothing to concern myself with. So back I raced to have someone fold the square for me. After a few attempts we had it. Well, sort of. The newly declared Mrs. Sergiano was kind enough to refold for me just before the ceremony. It was still early in the morning at this point, noon at the latest so even though we should probably have been throwing back drinks before getting in the limo we couldn't. Instead we snapped a few pics.

After we were all dressed up in our monkey suits (none of us were really excited about it. I mean, we looked nice but those jackets made it really hot) we went outside for what we thought was getting into the limo and heading over to the wedding. No, of course not that'd be too obvious. So instead there were more photos to be taken, this time thought with the whole group, including the groom, who really took his sweet ass time getting dressed. I suppose we could/should have cut him so slack. We didn't.
Anyway, after that was finally over with it was into the limo for the completely non-climactic drive to the reception hall. It was a tad surreal riding in a limo now, dressed in a monkey suit down the same streets I'd been driving on in a t-shirt and shorts since I was 17. Those times it had been to grab some food, or pick up friends or head to the bars. This time, I was going to watch my best friend get married. It was odd to say the least. One thing I will say though, is that it was completely Mike. We're a lot alike and we're very different, and this, this was him. Something simple like this - local and with relatively little production. I'm the over-the-top major blockbuster production type. This stark contrast in our personalities hit me during the ride over and I was glad that we were going where we were going.
We got to the hall and me and the other "lesser groomsmen" were just sort of hanging around by the bar area (which was not open) in front of the room where the ceremony was going to be held. The families were off taking pictures and doing whatever inner circle stuff they do. As guests started to arrive I had an early crack to see who had made it. Jay and Walter, who I hadn't seen in some years (well, I saw Walt at the bachelor party but still), Mike's friend Bobby who I've known for years, his family, our group of friends, and of course my mom and sister. When it was finally time to get the show on the road we groomsmen sprung into action, handing out wedding programs (I'm sure there's a fancier word for it) and yarmulkes (Gentile's pronounce Ya-Ma-Ka) as guests entered. After we had ushered everyone in I got a chance to meet Laurie-Jean, the bridesmaid I would be escorting throughout the course of the evening. See, the rehersal dinner had happened a day or two before I flew in so we had never met. Fortunately, she was really cool and our personalities clicked immediately. Also, I had met her husband during the bachelor party so there was no awkwardness about "man i don't want to look foolish and blow my chances with this girl." By the way, that thought in my head, mixed with some alcohol will always equal a good time. So after deciding to start on the right foot, we had our entrance all worked out and did a couple of trust fall exercises in case one of us tripped and was going down. The plan was for the other to detach their arm from the falling tree and move on as if we had never met. We were the first bridesmaid/groomsmen couple in so we had to set the tone - this wedding will stop for no one.
We made our entrance successfully and the others followed suit, although with the exception of the flower girl and ring bearers, none did it with as much pinash as we did. Then the bride made her entrance and the ceremony was underway. It was a lovely ceremony, because I don't really know how or why you would try to critique something like that. Take my word for it, it was nice. Some of the Hebrew parts I didn't understand and some of the English parts Mike obviously didn't get because his first act as a married man was to head towards the rabbi to thank her rather than to kiss his wife. I think that's another difference between us. At least I hope so, or my first marriage is going to be even shorter than I thought. I rejoined my escort for the evening and we headed out where we got to stand in line and receive thanks from everyone. Now people who know me, know that I hate getting praise or recognition for most things, but especially minor things. I just don't know how to respond to compliments. I mean if you want to thank me for curing cancer I'll find a way to handle it, but thanking me for walking and not falling - eh, it's going to make me uncomfortable to the point of laughter. Fortunately many of the bridesmaid's felt the same way so we were able to share some laughs in between receiving our congratulations and thanks for the wedding guests. After the line that would not end eventually ended we got to follow a photographer guy upstairs and out onto the balcony for more pictures. At this point it was brutal, pretty humid and I was hungry. And knowing that my mom and sister were enjoying a cocktail hour full of food wasn't helping. Eventually a waiter came up and asked for our drink orders while we were posing like the Mod Squad or a very dressed up version of the cast of 21 Jump Street. I asked the kid if they had Mountain Dew, he kinda laughed and I told him to try it with Vodka. He reluctantly told me they didn't but said he'd give it a shot. When he does it'll change his life. It was a shot in the dark that a fancy catering hall would have the single greatest carbonated beverage in the world, so I settled for a Grey Goose and Sprite. When the pictures were finally done we got our crack at the hours d'oeuvres waiting in the bridal suite. My drink came at the same time so I was able to satisfy my need for both food and drink. While we were eating and chatting Mike finally seemed relaxed. I guess he should be, the hard part of the day was over. After a relaxing 15 minutes or so we were informed that we had to leave and get ready to line up for our entrance to the reception.
None of the bridesmaids/groomsmen had anything planned, again because I wasn't at the rehearsal dinner, but Laurie-Jean was game to do something. I really lucked out there. Since we were going first again we had very little time. I shotgunned the rest of my Goose and Sprite as we were getting ready. A little pre-game bouncing (just like before a big beer pong match) and we were ready. We entered doing the presidential wave until we reached the dancefloor. From there we broke into the Temptation sway as we crossed to where we thought we were supposed to go. The spotter had to come grab us and redirect us to where we should have actually landed. As the remaining couples entered Laurie-Jean and I greeted them with the running man as they passed us and took their positions in the ever growing line awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom. Every bride and groom does something different for their intro. Scott and Kristen came out of the floor on a rising platform (awesome), and I was interested/worried about what Mike's entrance would be. Like I said, he's not the theatrical type and honestly I was more concerned about what music he'd be entering with. I'm protective of my best friend and I was deeply worried that he'd be dragged in there in front of friends and family to some stupid pop-song of the week, or cliched wedding or just something not fitting of him. The doors closed and it was time for he and Kelly to make their entrance. The lights went out and the music cut through the silience like a chainsaw. None of us knew, but within a nanosecond we were all happy for him. Enter Sandman pumped through the DJ's system and Mike got to make his entrance like Mariano Rivera coming in, in 9th, in a big game at Yankee Stadium (the old one). It was perfect. I may have shed a tear I was so happy for him.
From there the wedding progressed like they do. A traditional first dance between the bride and groom. As people were able to take their seats I grabbed my mom and sister and we made our way to bar, as a family. It was one of the happiest moments of the night for me. I bought my mom a drink and we sipped while listening to the trio of maid's of honor give their speeches, each requiring us to drink a little bit more than the last. Then we paused as Richie took the Mike. He's the little brother I never needed but have always had. I knew he was a bit worried about what to say so I wanted to be ready in case he needed me or something. His toast was everything it should be - a tad sentimental, a bit funny, no bull and concise. After that it was time for the real fun to start.
Early on, before I had even made it to my third drink, I got my second wish fulfilled. Just like I had at Scott and Kristen's wedding, I picked up on the first few notes of Earth, Wind and Fire's "September" and bolted from my seat to my mom's table. I took her hand and we headed out to the dance floor. It was one of the, if not the first dance of the night and she didn't know it yet, but her son was on his way to become the talk of the town - like he predicted. But none of that matters. I was so excited that this moment was happening. I had first thought of it back in June while starring at my mom through the glass in ICU and at the time it was the only thing I wanted in the world, to share that dance with her. At the time I what I was praying for as getting to do it at my own wedding, but given the indefinite time frame of that occurrence, I was perfectly happy that my mom was up, happy and healthy and with me out on the dance floor. Even if the old bat couldn't stay out there past the song. ;-)
I went back to my table to refresh myself with some vodka-y goodness when the DJ announced that it was Salsa time. Another big moment for me during this wedding. I had found a very helpful instructional salsa video on YouTube and emailed it to all of my gringo friends a couple of weeks before the wedding, declaring that the Caucasian Invasion would take over the dance floor. As menioned, I was consuming more alcohol when the DJ made his announcement and I looked over towards the tables where my friends were sitted, and noticed there was very little stirring taking place. I then inspired them, by proclaiming loundly, "Gringos! Vamanos!" completely with hand gestures. This got them on their feet and soon the flood I had hoped for had hit the floor. Most of us weren't very good, some people had watched the video and learned a little but we didn't care, we had a great time. That's a theme that would continue throughout the night. As the night grew longer, and the alcohol flowed like well the way alcohol usually flows when my friends are involved, the event turned into one of our nights out, just with a lot more friends to share it with. There was me cutting it up on the dancefloor - http://video.ak.facebook.com/video-ak-sf2p/v6808/247/115/554045421589_23047.mp4, and then subsequently teaching Jay how to do the same.
In one of the odder, yet more memorable moments of the wedding, I was talking to my mom near my table, cooling myself down from a recent dancecapade with another Goose and Sprite when the DJ began playing "It's raining men" and knowing that Scott, Jay and the rest of the gang were about to go crazy, I put down my drink, looked my mother in the eyes and said, "mom, I'm sorry but I have to go. They expect this." as I ran off. Well I didn't so much as run off, as I did run directly into the middle of the dance floor and start dancing around like I was flaming all over. I'm not going to lie, it was fun as hell. I may have to check out the Castro some night. Anyway, the gang loved it as we were bouncing around, hands in the air and me and boys (Scott and Jay, no I didn't name my buttocks "the boys" - I'm flat assed) shook it down. From there it only got better or worse, depending on whether or not your my mother. Shortly after that I believe I was again heading off to replenish fluids when I was prevented by another familiar beat. This time the king of pop. And just as I had done at Scott and Kristen's wedding, Billie Jean became my time. This time my mom was around to watch it (she had missed the earlier dance sequence that was caught on video). Unfortunately, the rental tux shoes weren't very smooth and my normally high 70s % moonwalk was reduced to something around a mid 60s. I realized this quickly though and all but abandoned the move, opting for more spins. Plus this time Jay jumped in and that helped to keep it from looking and feeling like a bad copy of Scott and Kristen's wedding.
We ate, and danced and continued drinking. Eventually it was dessert time and we were treated to a Viennese Hour that was so good, that Mike no longer has to apologize to me about my date to the senior prom (his gf at the time's, best friend). It had cookies, cakes, chocolate covered strawberries, zeppoles (fried dough), these little oreo like shooter things but you couldn't shoot them because they were so thick and delicious, fruit for the health conscious (whoever they are) and ice cream. It was literally a culinary explosion of the greatest kind, the kind that after you eat it all you feel bad and want to cry yourself to sleep while eating more of it. Then to top it off there was a dessert beverage station. I wasn't sure what this was and was nervous when Matt rounded up the rest of the bridal party to go over there. Turns out my fears were in my head. This was shots of after dinner liquors - Irish Creame, Amaretto, etc. in small chocolate shot glasses. Or to shorten the name, the greatest idea ever. We toasted, downed our shots and returned to our tables. I then informed my group of friends as to what lie beydond the main table and we returned to do our own round of shots. Fantastic.
After dessert was cleared away we knew it was only a matter of time before the night ended so we made sure to put everything we had into our kick (runner's term). We worked off calories and probably worked in blisters as we kept on dancing the night away. Just near the end of the night, I got my other wish for Mike, when the DJ started playing "Don't Stop Believing". Just about each one of my friends has a signature song or two. This is Mike's and we all know it. He and Kelly had just happened to be near the middle of the dance floor at the time and it worked out perfectly for us, as the whole group, 15-20 strong circled around them to sing and dance with them to Journey's classic. To the parents in attendance, distant relatives, Kelly's side of the wedding, we probably looked pretty odd, but this is how we are. 20 people, in a circle serenading the bride, who's just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, and her husband, a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit. To cap the evening off, we got back together to sign "I had the time of my life" completely with Bobby doing the Dirty Dancing leap into Matt's arms. We party hard, we have great times, and we make memories.

Congratulations again Mike and Kelly, it was pretty spectacular night.

Dance the Night Away

Somewhere in the middle of Scott and Kristen's wedding I realized that despite being really pale, and thereby being born rhythmically challenged, I really enjoy dancing. As I may have mentioned during that wedding I couldn't resist the beat when they started playing Earth, Wind and Fire's "September". A little later in the night I found myself on the floor again with many people circled around me as I busted out some MJ tribute moves to Billie Jean. I was even able to pull off a 78% moonwalk, however, it wasn't caught on tape.

With all of that in the back of my mind I prepared for Mike and Kelly's wedding a few weeks later. Due to the added ethnic component of this wedding (in case you couldn't tell from the pictures Scott and Kristen are almost as white as me) I knew I had to up my game. Thanks to a handy instructional salsa video on YouTube (which I passed around to the rest of the gringos who would be attending) I was prepared - but I'll do a full recap the wedding in a later post. This is more of a teaser.

Since it was Mike's wedding, Scott was freed up to whip out his camera and capture some great action. So without further ado, a hilarious video of me (please note I had been drinking and was a born a Leo, meaning I naturally crave the spotlight).

http://video.ak.facebook.com/video-ak-sf2p/v6808/247/115/554045421589_23047.mp4