Foxy

So yeah the trip ….

I have to laugh because you go through the Holland Tunnel and sprint across New Jersey, which is neither here nor there, but it reminds me of one of my brother’s fav jokes. Whenever he meets somebody who say they are from Jersey he answers with ‘yeah, what exit’. Well I think it’s funny.

After three hours of intermittent sleep and reading we pull into the bus station. And there she was waiting on the parking lot. Sitting on the hood of my Foxy was my sister, my mini-me. In so many ways the 17 year old I wish I had been. Cute, athletic, and self-confident to the extreme she seems a more refined and less grating version of the arrogant rebellious teenager I was. Than again if I hadn’t come first she wouldn’t have that well worn leather jacket she was wearing. There is that, and the six extra inches of height I have.

I watched the Masters and Phillies with my dad and spent time with my sis. It was totally a good weekend. But after three months in the Village, and no trip home, I got a heavy dose of culture shock going back to rural Pennsylvania. It aint Kansas but it aint the Village either. Seriously, the birds have more colors than just gray in Pennsylvania.

But what of Foxy. After a top down, hair back, tunes blaring drive back Foxy is parked in a garage just a couple blocks away. As I look out the window I have to smile knowing I’m not as ‘trapped’ as I once felt. I know it was just a feeling but it was a feeling that was eating at me. I need to know I can just get up and go, escape if you will, and not have to depend on a bus or train schedule. Not that I’m going to drive her much, this city totally isn’t made for driving, but when I want to now I can. After all the beach season is upon us and Penn State football is only five months off.

Than there is my mini-me, I miss her already. I love my sis.

tuneage, Deftones - Rocket Skates

the Port Authority

Finally going home for my car but first I have to survive the bus terminal.

Words can’t totally describe the Port Authority Bus Terminal, the starting point for my weekend adventure. I know they are trying to take it the way of Time Square, which is only blocks away, but is after all a bus terminal. I was even told they have remodeled the bowling alley. Nothing says ‘America’ like bowling while you wait for your bus. Now that is what makes life worth living.

Stepping from the cab and walking through the door the first thing you notice are the crowds of people. Not the same as airport crowds or train station crowds. No this is something special, the look of refugees from another world. Borderline schizophrenics escaping to New York and one time schizophrenics escaping from it, excited waifs from the Midwest with dreams of glory in their heads and a look of awe in their eyes.

I have to smile and think ‘nope this isn’t Kansas anymore.' It sounds lame but it's oh so true.

As always I have to wonder where everybody is going. Are they happy? Are they sad? Do they have a place to stay or will they be sleeping on my steps when I get back?

I just shrug and step on the bus.

tuneage, Rammstein - Amerika