Thoughts

Something may actually be wrong with me. I have listened to speculation for many moons without much in the way of justification. Today, what I offer you may seal the deal.

They say everyone has multiple dreams every night. When you wake up and say you did not dream, it is rather that you simply do not remember doing it. I have no idea what the medical/astrological explanation is, it's just what I've heard. And I have heard it a lot, because I never remember my dreams, nor do I ever remember having dreams. Last night was an exception.

And last night was vivid.

I was my same, large, 25-year old self, but rather than the sit at home type stuff I am usually doing to entertain myself, I had a little league baseball game. It was my turn to bat, and I was simply furious. I couldn't find my 6-iron. I had to settle for my 5-iron. Why my golf clubs came into play, I have no idea. That isn't important. What is important is that I singled with my 5-iron. The batter after me hit a home run and we won.

Next thing I know I'm standing up behind the table at a restaurant with giant french toast asking the waitress if she would be kind enough to bring strawberry syrup to the table. Just a little. I couldn't think of a better term for the little silver gravy boats that some restaurants serve condiments in, but for some reason the word "ramekin" wasn't too much for me in my dream.

I am not sure I have ever felt more involved in a dream before. Sure it's rare enough that I even remember that I had a dream, let alone any of the details. This one felt so real.

Maybe I went todash (if you've read Stephen King's Dark Tower series you get that, otherwise, don't ask).

If it's all the same, I think I'll go back to not dreaming. Thanks though.

Cont'd from East Coast Road Trip Part II - More Friends and Two Nights in NYC

Our last morning in NYC was not very eventful. We gathered our things, cabbed to my car and were on our way. (Not so) Surprisingly, the traffic from NYC to the Jersey Shore is quite horrible on a sunny Saturday late morning/early afternoon. There is a group of some 9 guys who rent a house on the beach every summer. I went to college with a handful of these shady characters. We headed to New Jersey to party with those guys.

We arrived in time to grab some boardwalk food as a snack before our Japanese Steakhouse dinner. The chicken fingers held me over well. The highlight of this small culinary endeavor was the incredible irony and superb timing when Will said he couldn't wait to get some "g*dd*mn cheese sticks" only for us to then all lift our gaze to meet two elderly NUNS coming off the beach. What are the odds!? These poor women came away from the sand in their full-length, blue beach habits and were hopefully out of earshot for Will's vocalization of his craving.

Dinner was great once the waitress conference ended. I have never been to a restaurant before where you have any trouble combining two items which are not listed as options under the "combinations." I have also never been to a Japanese Steakhouse that has questioned an order of a Lobster and Lobster combination. I guess this was a special place, since it was also my first B.Y.O.B. Japanese Steakhouse. The wonders of Manasquan, New Jersey! The three small Japanese women huddled over a menu and later came to me and said I could not have that as a combination, but rather I would have to have the Lobster (she pronounced it Lostibber) dinner and a side of Lobster.

This B.Y.O.B. establishment also happens to be a few doors down from a liquor store. The story goes that the guys typically go in and grab a bottle of wine (per) to enjoy over dinner. Except for Sean (who made a huge effort to come to Manasquan that night) who opted for a case of Miller Lite bottles. There is nothing classier than a guy who walks in to a restaurant in a group of ten people carrying his own case of beer. "Oh, is that for everyone?" "No, just for me. Thanks."

Once dinner was over, we headed back to the beach house so Will and I could give a brief clinic on how to play beer pong. We got through a solid seven games before being unseated. An executive decision was then made that it was time to go to the bar.

The line at the bar was manageable when we found a place only halfway back when joining. Good thing smooth-talking Josh decided to flirt with every bouncer who gave him a hard time for having an expired license. I guess that temporary, paper one they give you takes a lot of the fun out of it, right Josh? All I know is that on our way into the bar, the bouncer commented on the "unruly guys from Michigan" to another patron. I was a little surprised that there were other kids from Michigan in Manasquan that night...

Once inside the bar, which I like to call "Villanova reunion," things actually got pretty tame. The group split up some to canvas the place for fun. I probably bumped into more former classmates than I would have preferred, but I am sure I'll get over that in time. Really was hoping to not have to see Ryan Brown if at all possible, but luck was not on my side. I kid. (I thought I was a mess that night, ok I was a mess that night, but so were you, Ace.)

I lost one of my best friends after the bar. I do not know where he went. I probably should have been more concerned than I was, but over the years I have come to expect him to disappear. I just hope when and if he turns up, he has a good story for me. Besides, we were getting pizza, so I had other things to look forward to besides finding him. You'll all be happy to know that he made it back to the house no worse for the wear. His night ended up somewhat of the stuff of legend.

He managed to get separated from the girl he left the bar with only to be approached by two girls who were concerned if he was lost. They told him to come home with them and he told me something about having a one-on-one Yahtzee tournament with one of the two girls, or something like that. He then managed to make his way back to the house and found all of the beds were occupado. He claimed a couch in the name of the King and tried to sleep. Destiny had other plans. He was awakened a mere two hours later by another guy who brought home two girls. The four of them thought it would be an awesome idea to drink Jack and Coke at 6AM, which led directly to waking (the whole house) me up at about 7:30 with an ancient Incan ritual named something in the Native dialect that translates into "loud-as-hell, drunken 'let's-go-halves-on-a-baby' negotiation." Roughly.

I think he tried to cook her breakfast and simply didn't make enough food. At least that's what I took away from the story when I heard that the four of them went back to the girls' place and apparently he left her so...I believe "unsatisfied" was the word, that she had to go and play golf with the other two, or something like that. But he LOVES golf, I don't know why he would let them play as a threesome without him. Makes perfect sense to me. I'm sure you don't think I'm leaving anything out. (I love to play golf when I'm hungry, who doesn't?)

That just confirms everything you have ever suspected about New Jersey, doesn't it? And to think those guys do that every weekend in the summer.

...but living in Michigan is cool too ya know! (Not really)

Stay tuned for East Coast Road Trip Part IV - All Good Things Must Come To An End

Number of consecutive days eating chicken fingers: 4.

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