Okay, okay, okay. We get it. No need to further berate us with threatening phone calls. For once and for all, we’d like to issue the following statement: We are sorry to all of you poor working saps, who live vicariously through our debauchery, for our lack of diligence towards the blog. It’s inexcusable. We’d feel the same way if the rolls are ever reversed once our lives cease to be a fantasy land. We’re sorry. That being said, get a life. Drum roll please….
We left the land of oranges and geriatrics and headed up the coast. Our next game was in NYC, so a long haul was ahead of us. We picked Zack up after leaving Land Shark and hit the road for Charleston S.C. (our next destination). We drove through the night, being too cheap to pay for a hotel, and arrived in Savannah at sunrise. We took a break from driving and in a half-asleep stupor we roamed the riverside streets of the beautiful Georgian city. We stopped in for breakfast at a local joint and noticed that the prices were apparently targeted towards the Saudi royal family. As a result, Todd’s breakfast was coffee, Will had lemonade (which included one complementary refill for only $2.75!) and Zack had grits. The waitress wasn’t overly impressed… neither were we.
Shortly thereafter we headed out and arrived in Charleston. We couldn’t get a hold of Anne Marie and our sure-bet in Charleston began to look like Miami all over again. We strolled around the city to take our minds off of the fear of paying to sleep and took in some sights. We walked around the College of Charleston’s campus (naturally acquiring some free internet at the institute’s library) and checked around a famous market (the name escapes us), which originally served as the quarters for newly arrived slaves. The city was beautiful and we all agreed it’d be a great place to live.
Feeling sufficiently cultured and even more sufficiently symptomatic of heat stroke, we decided to hit the beach. Having still not heard from Anne Marie, our plan was to swim for a bit and then head to Charlotte (where a friend of Will’s resides). As we approached the beach, however, our hostess called and the grey clouds parted. Anne Marie, whose house is literally ON the beach, warmly welcomed us with hugs and all the southern hospitality you could shake a stick at. We briefly caught up, shared with her our relief to be there and cracked a beer. Anne Marie had to work, so she headed out, telling us to meet her at the bar (her place of employment) and we headed to the beach. This contrast of obligations between our hosts and us has typified our trip.
We soaked up the sun on Folly Beach, swam, tossed the football and enjoyed ourselves as thoroughly as possible. We were even fortunate enough to spy some treasure hunters with metal detectors. Will suggested we bury pennies over the next few hundred yards to throw them off, but unfortunately we lacked the necessary means to do so. We headed back to Anne Marie’s, washed up and headed down to her bar. We ate and chatted with her friends and then headed out. We sipped some drinks at another bar in lounge chairs on the beach and waited for Anne Marie to get off of work.
Anne Marie arrived shortly thereafter and the evening took a dramatic turn for the insane. We walked further down the beach, acquired some beers and sat down in the sand to waste away the evening. We discovered that beneath her sweet and polite exterior lurked within Anne Marie a frat boy during rush week (you can take the girl out of Montana, but not the Montana out of the girl). We spent our time wrestling in the sand, shot gunning beers (entirely at her insistence) and even managed to sneak in some conversation. We met up with some of her friends and headed back to the bars. We had a few for a bit and walked “home” for the night.
We took our leave in the morning and said goodbye to our gracious hostess. The entirety of the day was spent driving to Washington D.C., where Will’s cousin Harrison’s house served as our next hotel. The drive was relatively uneventful, highlighted by the 150 billboards every mile or so for “South of the Border”, a combination of amusement park and Mexican restaurant. After much discussion about the necessity of stopping there “just because”, we became concerned that Zack may follow through on his threat to take the “long dive” from the humungous sombrero high above the property as a method to ending the misery of being crammed in the back of the Prizm. Two sources of pleasure did occur though. First, a trip to Bojangles Chicken and Biscuits (Dixie baby) and then some dinner at Costco, where Zack eat 2.75 pounds of pasta salad. We arrived at Harrison’s, chatted with him (Todd taking part in a fantasy football draft… it’s football season!!!!) and hit the sack.
We headed out in the morning for NYC, paying something like $293 in tolls along the way. This particularly upset Zack; questioning why the most expensive roads in the world are also the most poorly maintained… we didn’t have an answer. Todd’s sacred oath to never enter the state of New Jersey was broken, but thankfully his teary eyes did not jeopardize our driving, as Will was behind the wheel. We entered Manhattan, got some food and Will got his haircut at his barber from back in the day. Todd got his hands on a 15-minute massage that relieved the tension in his shoulders we had affectionately dubbed as “Prizm Shoulders.” (Note: Prizm Shoulders is only one of several afflictions from which we suffer. Others include, but are not limited to: “Prizm Neck,” “Geo Knee,” and particularly severe cases of “Prizm Foot” brought on by a lack of cruise control; our car is a cruel mistress).
We headed to our hosts casa (Will’s old digs) in Brooklyn and unloaded our stuff. The place is definitely “in” Brooklyn. Firstly, you enter the main door not with a key, but by striking the lock firmly in the correct spot. Secondly, drug addicts have essentially converted the staircases into their bedrooms. Todd dubbed the place “Little Caracas,” or “Little C” as we affectionately know it, after taking in the various smells. They can only be described as those of the type of Latin food you try to avoid. We chatted with Henry and Shannon (our hosts) for a bit, parted ways with Zack and headed to the Bronx for the Yanks game (who were playing host to Todd’s pitiful White Sox). We arrived at the park and en route Will informed Todd that if we were lucky the conductor would drop a “Welcome to da Braaaahhhnx” as we arrived (something that is apparently not uncommon). Unfortunately it was meant to be, but we soldiered on.
To describe what transpired at Yankee’s Stadium is akin to describing the work of a renaissance master: Will’s art was a mix of staggering beauty and unfathomable talent. He acquired tickets at a cost (alas, Yankee’s Stadium ain’t an easy venue to enter for free), albeit a low one: $6 a piece. The park was packed and the usher’s were hawks, so there was literally no hope of sneaking down to any descent seats. Or so it seemed. Ultimately, Will sweet-talked the usher into letting us sit in $350 seats (which, by the way, were padded) right behind 1st base. We were two rows back from the legend seats ($1k a pop) and John Turturro was about 15 seats away from us. Yes folks, the legend of William Holmes is steadily reaching mythical status. Todd sat in stupor for a few minutes, unable to fully grasp what had happened, but eventually regained his composure. This was evidenced by him yelling “JESUS!!!” (The name of Turturro’s character in the greatest movie of all time) at John Turturro… he didn’t respond. The game was tight and went into extras. The Yanks took it in fine form with a walk-off in the 10th. Oh the White Sox… but that’s for a different blog
We headed back to Manhattan, ate some “street meat” (don’t ask) and had a beer at one of Will’s old watering holes. We decided that prices in Brooklyn better served our pocketbooks and we hopped back on the train. Will’s favorite bar there, Union Hall, didn’t disappoint. Descent prices, live music and bocce ball… anything else needed? We soaked in some music and observed the largest tools in the world play bocce. They mistakenly interpreted Will’s mockery to have been directed towards their opponents; Will was quick to correct them.
We departed the bar and arrived at Henry and Shannon’s in time to play some drinking jenga. Allow me to serve as a very strong ambassador for this game—I think it might surpass chess as the game of kings. After studying the finer points of this game, we hit the sack.
In the morning we headed back to Manhattan, walked by ground zero (which Todd described as the charter plot of “Hannity’s America”) and hopped on a ferry to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Both were very cool, but the highlight was our extremely effeminate tour guide who may or may not have been romantically involved with his assistant… our speculation continues. Ellis Island was extremely sobering. We both agreed that we could have never handled what these people endured and were grateful for our ancestors who braved the journey here.
We returned to Manhattan, hopped in the car (upon which a $90 parking ticket greeted us) and headed out for Boston. We arrived at Katie’s (Will’s girlfriend) late, ate some freshly baked cookies and basked in the glow of ESPN in HD (as we have been so deprived of sports of late). In the morning we headed out to Fenway, but along the way we checked out Harvard’s campus. Todd repeatedly told Katie (a partner in the Ivy League crime of Catholicism) that they were unwanted here and were likely to be snatched up at any moment. Thankfully we avoided detection, perhaps due to the concealing glow of Lord Holmes, a proud son of the C of E.
We arrived at the beating heart of Red Sox Nation and Todd popped his Fenway cherry. It was a beautiful sight. In all reality, the place is pretty run down. Most Sox fans will even concede that. But what makes Fenway Fenway are the fans who sit within her. It was awesome. The game was a dud, the Jay’s losing 7-0, but a good time was had. We sat about 20 rows behind the dish, right next to the players’ wives (a special thanks to Katie and her fam. for facilitating this). Truly one of the great mausoleums of sport.
We headed back to Katie’s after the game and had dinner with her folks. We chatted about their recent trip to Victoria (everyone save Will seemed to have disliked the rustic themes they partook in… the mountain man in Will was clear) and about our trip. Will and Todd took in some more ESPN and hit the sack.
The next day was spent entertaining Todd’s desire to check out Boston, he having never been there. The city is gorgeous and very livable for a city of its size. We walked the freedom trail, saw Paul Revere’s house, the sight of the Boston Massacre, Sam Adams’ grave and Bunker Hill, where we summated the 300 steps of the monument. ‘Twas a great, albeit quick, tour of the city.
From there our paths diverged: Todd headed back to NYC to see the sights, while Will stayed behind to go with Katie to her families house in Cape Cod. Todd had to relearn how to live without Will’s constant scheduling and hustling, while Will had to go without Todd’s handsomeness (guess who’s writing this). Todd hopped on the Fung Wah bus from Boston to China Town and felt like he was back in Northern K when he sighted a Big Dog T-shirt.
The Fung Wah is a unique to spend 4 hours. Allow me to set the scene: the bus is driven remarkably recklessly, the smell of the bathroom permeates the cabin and apparently it is not uncommon to spy passengers who have live chickens as their luggage (though, my ride didn’t include this gem).
After arriving in China Town Todd headed back to Henry and Shannon’s and took in some authentic Brooklyn recreating on a rooftop with Henry and his friends. We did it up right and headed back in for bed. Todd, however, soon realized that his night was just beginning.
At 4 am Todd awoke to Henry and Shannon’s roommate and his friends stumbling in from downtown. Annoying? Yes, but no big deal. With them was a girl who was full fathom five level drunk. They settled her on the couch and went to bed. After falling back to sleep, I heard it. The unmistakable horrific sound that is someone choking on their own vomit. Oh yes. Springing into action, Todd tilted her head and, as he likes to think, saved her life. Upon seeing the magnitude of the mess, the responsibility of keeping this train wreck alive was quickly handed off to her friends. They cleaned her up and gave her a sack for future use and headed back to bed. All over right? No. At 6 am Todd’s new best friend greeted him to yet another wake up call. This time it came in the form of her falling on top of him. Arising to the sight and smell of vomit, Todd quickly tried to assist her towards another destination. She, however, insisted that she’d “just sleep here.” This was not allowed and she was quickly shuttled to the bathroom. Wow. (Note: Todd was awakened AGAIN later when Shannon found our friend passed out on the toilette, pants down. Needless to say, Shannon, not knowing who she was, had some questions. Todd’s answer? “Dude, she fell on me… ON me). Suffice it to say Shannon had some words with her roommate).
After a thoroughly enjoyable and solid night’s sleep, Todd headed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan. Enormous collection, very cool, but a bit too much to handle. He headed down to the Lower East Side afterwards and rendezvoused with a friend of his brother’s, Chris, who had generously offered to be a tour guide. Beers were had, laughs at Kyle’s expense were aplenty and we grabbed some Mexican food that hit the spot. There, Todd tried to parlay his Mexican soccer shirt into some free tequila, but was unsuccessful. He headed back to Brooklyn and miraculously managed a quality night’s sleep.
The next morning Todd headed down to the MOMA, which was incredible. The collection is as diverse as it is large. After spending several hours there, he strolled the streets of Manhattan and took in the city. After hitting most of the highlights (Times Square, Union Square, Washington Square, NYU, SoHo, etc) Todd met up with Chris again and the two had some brews at a hip spot in the Lower East Side. He headed back to Little C and hit the sack.
The next morning Will arrived with Katie and the three of us headed to Philly for a Giants Philly’s game. We stomached yet another trudge through New Jersey and arrived in the City of Brotherly Love. We snuck in a cheese steak at Gino’s (noted for its incredible food and its refusal to serve anyone who can’t speak English… Philly, gotta love it) and headed to the game. Will naturally acquired three tickets and we headed it. The park was great and the fans were devoted. We’d heard plenty about their insanity, but we thankfully avoided any confrontations. The game was a true pitchers dual (Lincecum v. Pedro), but ultimately Will’s G-men went down. We left the park and headed outside of town to stay with Will’s buddy who lived near Villanova (Vanilla-nova as Will refers to it). We caught some football on the tube and hit the sack.
The next morning we strolled around downtown Philadelphia and saw the Liberty Bell, Ben Franklin’s grave, the Portrait Gallery, and Liberty Square. The area was beautiful and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.
We hit the road and headed back to NYC where our next game was taking place at Citi field. More to come…
Todd & Will
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