I drove for two days straight. Nine or 10 hours a day, pushing through so many states that, one in Maryland, I couldn’t for the life of me tell anyone where I was. I-95, straight from Florida to NYC. A night in South Carolina and one in Delaware. After the touristy, retirement swamp of Florida, I was ready to stop, ready to settle, ready to live a life with Ellyn so close.
I got into the city yesterday morning, around 11. Pam got a little hot on the bumper-to-bumper freeway, so I pulled off into Brooklyn. Driving around New York is an experience all its own. If you drive like a maniac you fit in better. Swerve, use no turn signal and go way too fast. This is the only way to succeed.
I have a bedroom in a nice two-bedroom brownstone on S. 4th and Bedford, the edge of a neighborhood called Williamsburg — a area that hit its hipster peak about a year ago. Things are only cool for a little while in New York, before something else takes over. I live with white hipsters and Puerto Ricans one block away from the Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. Jerry curls and great coats.
The neighborhood is fantastic. After a cup of coffe in a little courtyard this morning, I walked out to find a guy in pink shorts soaking his feet in a pink plastic tub. New York, New York.
So, the goals:
Work.
Long-term parking for Pam (though, the street parking outside is pretty good.)
Long-term living.
But first, lunch with a friend in Manhatten.
Gog bless America.
So how was Delaware?