We sank Manhattan out at sea

It always rains when I am in New York City.

Tuesday, August 29th is no exception. I awake to grey clouds and greyer worries, I'm simultaneously thrilled and terrified to meet my future schoolmates. Nevertheless, my mother drives Chris and I to the Little Silver train station where the ticket machines don't carry any change. On the way we look in desperation for a Dunkin Donuts so I can satisfy my hunger for a Dunkaccino and fuel my unhealthy addiction to caffine. Our efforts are in vain and we are unable to find a single chain store whereas there are like 7000 on Route 9. I find out later that after my mother dropped us off she found one on the one street we didn't check. Needless to say she didn't bring us anything back.

It is at this point that I meet the Messiah and two other fellow Ramapoers.

Keith, Brian, and Kevin (Jesus) arrive at the station shortly after we do, Keith and Kevin sporting "Legends of the Hidden Temple" T-Shirts (Orange Iguanas and Blue Barracudas, respectively). Our train arrives at about 9:27 and we're on our way. The train ride is largely uneventful so Chris hands me an earbud from his ipod and we silently jam out to 90's music. I'm positive that every song we listen to on the way to Penn was on one "Now!" compilation or another. After making a less-confusing-than-we-anticipated transfer in Newark we get to New York, Penn Station. From there we find our way outside and lumber over to one of many many many (many) local Starbucks. We are joined shortly by the rest of our contingent, who I will attempt to name now. In addition to Chris, Keith, Brian S, Kevin and myself there was Jill, Brian B, Pat, Mark and Matt - most of whom, I believe, had attended previous meet-ups and were already a part of the fantastic brotherhood to which I would soon subscribe. We all shake hands, introduce ourselves, and banter about what we want to do.

Right then, or a little beforehand, it starts raining.

We retire our discussion to a nearby McDonald's and eventually come to the conclusion that we have no conclusion. So we decided to relocate to the Manhattan Mall, where evidently the atmosphere makes decision-making easier. Following a brief stop at a smoothie joint for "shit shakes" (you know, those smoothies that help get rid of, or promote, diarrhea). Kevin attempts to chug his but his neglect to first turn it into wine comes back to bite him in the brain. Each of us complete a free sample circuit and it is agreed upon to center our trip around Times Square.


The NBC building is among our first stops, the highlight of which is us almost getting so see Rachael Ray! Here is what wikipedia has to say about Rachael Ray:


"Rachael Domenica Ray (born August 25, 1968 in Cape Cod, Massachusetts) is an Emmy-winning television personality and author who hosts at least four different programs on cable television's Food Network: 30 Minute Meals, $40 a Day, Inside Dish, and Rachael Ray's Tasty Travels. She has authored a series of cookbooks based on the 30 Minute Meals concept. She will also host a syndicated TV talk show starting on Monday, September 18, 2006."

Wowee Zowee. That woulda been sweet.

We wander around Times Square fairly aimlessly and eventually venture to the Apple Store on Fifth Avenue (really fucking far away) which is pretty sweet. Two of the employees almost splooge all over the "LOTHT" shirts that Keith, Kevin, Pat, and Jill are wearing. So the ramapoers kindly direct them to a website at which they can purchase, and splooge on if they so desires, their own. We depart and make the long-ass trip back to the square. Brian B is a nut and a champion of dodging traffic. I am impressed. I'm realizing as I type this that I have completely forgotten what order we did things in. So whatever. Deal with it.

The Virgin Megastore is exactly what the name implies. There's like a bazillion CDs and DVDs in the place but they've sold out of "Snakes on a Train". We mourn its temporary loss and move on. On the CD racks we discuss music and and Kevin proves to us that not only is he the king of the jews, but the king of metal as well.

We visit a local sheet music shop and discuss musical taste further, largely agreeing on a universal distaste for Creed and Nickelback. Everyone loves the 90s, however, and I am thrilled. This store had sheet music for some of the shittiest bands ever. O-Town anyone? Who the fuck wants a Dream Street guitar chord book? No one. That's who.

Toys "R" Us provided the most entertainment of all our stops. I worry for a generation of American youth raised on Bratz dools. In fact, I blame the entire "McSlut" revolution on terrible terribly effective marketing schemes. You too can be a whore! Just like your favorite Bratz doll! Just roll on some lipstick and eyeliner, wear scantily clad apparel, and stand on the streets giving BJs for nickels! What a world. Some of the playsets are also hilariously sexist. Like the kitchenette at which the little girl wearing the apron serves the little boy his breakfast. Then again, the little boy was on his knees. I think there's some gender confusion shit going on there.

We eat at Applebees, which is exactly the same as Applebees here except that everything costs $6 more. Literally. Those bastards. Keith, Jill, Brian, Pat, and Kevin resolve to fight the tickets they recieved over the weekend and the world rejoices.

The best part of the entire tip, however, was meeting the awesome homeless man bearing the sign "Need money for beer, drugs, and hooker. Hey, at least I'm not bullshitting you." After donating generously to his worthy cause we participated in a dialogue that went something like this:

"Get that fucking camera out!" (We all pose for a picture, flashing our fingers) "Fuck yeah. Are you kids American?"

"Yeah..."

"Aww I fuckin' knew it man. American kids are the fuckin' best man. Not like those fuckin' French kids. French kids fuckin' suck!"



We leave our racist friend behind and eventually it is time to depart. After dropping Brian B and Jill off at Port Authority we realize how little time we have to make our train. We rush past various sex shops and peep shows and soon arrive at Penn Station at exactly the moment our train is departing. Of course... we miss it. The next 42 minutes are spent sitting and waiting, bullshitting to pass the time, and discussing our excitement and worry about beginning college. Too soon, we get home.


As I reflect on this I can easily conclude that going was a good idea. The group I shared the day with was absolutely incredible, whether we were flipping TRL off or belting the "Crossfire" theme song, I felt somewhat comfortable even having just met them earlier that day. Granted I have no idea what they think of me, but I sincerely hope that we all continue to hang out and become great friends over our course at the 'po.

I guess it goes to show that despite the rain and despite the grey, there's always light on Broadway. A beacon of hope for a battered army.

Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike