Thursday, July 26, 2007

Home

Total hours spent in car: 35

















We hit the road last Tuesday after my shift, around 11PM. It took us fourteen hours to get to Brooklyn. When we hit the city, I was stuck to the window like a tree frog. Then I heard Joe say, "There she is. The city." I'm all, "Then what am I looking at now?"

It was Jersey.















Holland Tunnel. Ten minutes of claustrophobic yumminess.


Brooklyn. So great. I could have sat on the stoop all day, talking to people, scarfing down pizza, and waiting for the ice cream truck. Seth jumped rope with the girls next door. A dude named Speedy lives two doors down, and plays the trumpet. Badly. But he'll regale you with stories of being in the drum and bugle corps. Joe ran into some of the neighbors, who had not a clue who he was. Then recognition washed over their faces, and hugs and smiles ensued. The shopkeepers were a trip. They engulfed Joe in Spanish chit chat, thinking him Puerto Rican. Joe just nodded and grinned. And OHMYGOD the pizza. Jimmy's Pizza has spoiled me rotten. Rotten.
















Totally got scolded for taking this one. No photos allowed in the subway since 9/11.



We took the subway to Manhattan (LOVE THE SUBWAY), and hit the Museum of Natural History. Seth and I walked around dragging our jaws on the ground. I won't even try to explain it. It is indescribable. Being a lover of all things shiny and beaded, the Hall of Gems and Minerals held me captive. Seth identified most of the fish in the Marine Life room. It was grand. Then we hit the road again, bound for Saranac Lake and Joe's 20 year reunion.




















We left Brooklyn around 6PM. At nine, Joe decided to call some hotels in Saranac, to see what's available.

Answer? NOTHING.

The Ironman triathalon was storming through Lake Placid that weekend. All rooms were either booked or $400 a night.

I called my sisters in a panic. Thank you, Amber and Nadine, for helping to save my ass. Amber booked us rooms in Plattsburgh (or Puddinville, as I dubbed it), which is about 45 minutes outside of Saranac. Arrive at 1AM. Man behind desk? Complete and total jackass. Dear Mr. Scott Whateveryourlastnameis, may you grow hair in unsightly places, and may your breath always smell of cheese. Kisses! Heather Turner.













It was Twilight Zone-like being at the reunion. I saw a part of Joe that I never knew. A chapter of time that defined him and shaped him, and I have no clue about it. It's really wild. Joe summed it up this morning:

"Being at my reunion, seeing all those people from school, really slapped me in the face with mortality."

Amen, my husband.

We arrived home on Sunday morning, after a seventeen hour drive. The sunset on the ride home was crazy gorgeous. The boys were troopers. They slept most of the way. I'm still in a mild sense of shock over that.
















And if any of ya'll know someone who needs a chef in the Adirondacks, let us know. Because that place? Is heaven on earth.




1 comments:

Amber said...

I am glad to have helped. And I too have wished that horrible Scott Whatsisname much bad kharma and have - as they say in Louisiana - put the "gris gris" on him. He might grow hair in unimaginable places, but he will also develop Monkey Pox and other delectable diseases! Haha!

AND, even with all the stress, it looks like you had a great trip!

P.S. Now you can bring Joe here and he can see a chapter of time that defined you too. AHHHHH, scary, huh? :)