Archive for December, 2005

Wedding daze

Friday, December 16th, 2005

It was a slow day the day Sally first walked into my corner bar. It was early on a Saturday, the day shift rummies had left, and the night shift rummies were, well, late again. Just me and Carlos… in comes Sally.

She looked like she could handle herself, but considering Carlos, a no less than 250lb latino, prison tats all over the oak tree he used as neck, a neck that carried about 200lbs of gold chain I might add… Considering Carlos had done his 10 years on an aggrevated rape and assualt charge, I thought I’d keep the corner of my eye on her. I wasn’t amused finding that he’d siddled up to her while I was in the back getting fresh ice.

I didn’t know Sally, I didn’t know that within minutes she’d be commenting on each tatoo, and asking after each saint and symbol on each chain… “Is that Saint Anthony?” “What’s DE-EK mean?”. Within fifteen minutes, Carlos had out a picture of his 13 year old daughter and was almost sobbing to Sally about how much he missed his little girl. They carried on until the night shift came in, and I lost track of her… I think that might have been the first night I heard “the laugh”.

A few weeks later she was in again with some friends, it was busier, she pointed out JP as the boyfriend. I believe my thought at the time was “whose this bookworm?”. I quit my job at the bar a few weeks after that, and didn’t see Sally again for a while.

One night, Jennifer was out of town and I was shufflin’ about the hood thinking about going into the city. I popped into the corner for my warm ups. A young couple were at the bar, we said hello. She told me we’d met before, but I had no recollection. Sally had transformed somehow from what I recalled a bit punkettish, to a sweet bob-haired midwestern gal. I didn’t recognize the bookworm either, as he seemed to have aged from my memory of him as some beany little twelve-year old. She convinced me that it was really her; the three of us chatted the night away… they asked me back home to play games. Games, games and more GAMES! – Friends it would be.

How do you meet people? Work, school, the health club; I guess me being me, I do tend to meet a lot of people in bars; and well, very few at the health club… Doc, Steven, Jennifer, Henry to name a few have become good friends. Friends you see outside the bar. Sally and JP became even closer friends than most. It was great having new friends in a friendly nieghborhood. Most of our friends were Jen’s former friends, these two felt more my own.

I have hundreds of great memories with Sally and JP, more than a few Sally would KILL me if I even hinted upon here. More than the memories though, Sally and JP became “that” type of friend. The type you had no discomfort with, the type who’d laugh at you when layed out, sprawled all over the tomato plants they’d just planted a month earlier. The type of friends whose company alone meant a great time was at hand.

Knowing Sally and JP went down that isle today makes nothing but perfect sense. Watching these two kids is like watching an old married couple; you know that ONE married couple we all know that seem perfectly matched AND genuinly happy in each others company. Oh sure they bicker, and JP often makes sally “cross”; but when they laugh, crimey when these two laugh, it’s like that sigh of relief you had as a kid when you saw your parents make up… I mean, all is right with the world when Sally and JP laugh.

I can’t wait to visit Sally and JP and their 7 kids one day. I am certain that that trailer is going to be full of laughter! Sally’s infectious cackle and JP’s “father knows best” ca-juggle. Another certainty is that two these kids will make it work! Well, either make it work, or change the rules. I can’t picture JP with anyone other than Sally; I can’t see anyone but steady as she goes JP putting up with that level of torment.

So, tonight, we wish ‘em well and send them on their way. A way they’ve already been going for quite some time. Later tonight, I gaurantee we’ll here them laugh. Tonight, most certainly all is right with the world.

You Cannot Save the Crack Hotel

Tuesday, December 13th, 2005

Unfortunately I wont be there to watch… Wont be there to watch four new Mark Bars open each summer. Wont be there to watch coffee prices rise and people laughing about it. I wont be there as one by one the cheaper apartments are vacated by long local families, painted and rented at twice the price. I wont be there to see Elvis for the last time; or watch Frankie’s mom get hosed. I wont be there to see Helen and Tommy, slowly and painfully squeezed out of the one last remaining local; Tommy’s fault perhaps, but Helen’s tanacity will only allow for a whithering, rather than a conversion…I hear they’re closing the “Crack Hotel”. I hear that they’ll be booting out Patrick, Elvis and Fozzie… I hear that Greenpoint is becoming another moment in time, a moment in time us vagabonds have seen over and over and over again. Where is Parkdale; Queen Street; The West and East Villages… Where is Williamsburg and Dumbo… Bedstuy, Harlem and the South Bronx on the verge… Where is the Northeastern inner city; where is North America?

I hear that rents are cheap and the sunsets are lovely. I hear that the people are warm and friendly; and that they are eager to build their country. I hear that the jungle remains untouched, and that you can drink from every stream up stream of the last toilet on the hill. We’ll hear the blast of the steam whistle on this weeks arriving cruise ship… and we’ll hope we’ll be there at least ten years before the all-inclusive starbucks jungle island eco-resort lays waste another mini-paradise.

A Fall From the Shit Shelf

Tuesday, December 6th, 2005

You know, in Holland the toilets have these odd little shelves that sit above the main pool, just above the drain. The shelf is cup shaped and holds just enough water to barely cover ones droppings; i guess to keep the stink down. I was told that this shelf allowed the good people of the Netherlands to, well, examine their poops. I guess, they dig around looking for that lucky peanut… counting the number of undigested kernels from last nights corn chowder…

I once had it in mind to take a look at my poops… living in the “land of toilet shelves” for a time; the urge to do so becomes overwhelming. Finally, one morning, after a quite satisfying movement; I wiped up, zipped up and swung around to, you know… to have a good look. Funny thing… all I saw was shit.

I flushed, woosh off the shelf it went… and I went on with my day.

I don’t really give a shit about my poop anymore.