Well I haven't done shit at work for 2 hours anyhow...
Thursday
Airport sucks, took a nice dump in a stall with ISRAEL spelled with a swazi instead of an 'I,' get on the plane. Empyrium - Where At Night the Woodgrouse Plays soothes me up into the air, by then it's too late too panic but strangely enough I'm fine. Pulse didn't even elevate until the wicked turbulence kicked in, landed in St. Louis, bought some smokes, a St. Louis lighter, and some Rams paraphenalia for grandma (she's a huge fan), then spent the next flight talking to some hot chick moving to NYC and listening to Tool. Her boyfriend wasn't very pleased, but she sure had nice titties. Get to hotel, go grab a sammitch, walk around, sleep.
Friday:
Walk around some more, looking for a music store and coming up empty. Meet JayKeeley, begin bar hopping. The first bar, Burp Castle (right?) was the best. Something like 300 fine quality beers with 10 to 15 I've never heard of on tap. Nice and dark too, drunk guy in the corner. Honestly I was pretty buzzed by the time we left, went to get Thai food. Good stuff. Then head to McSorley's where they give you the Irish handcuffs all night as each beer is split into two smaller glasses. Two choices: light or dark. Now THAT'S a fucking Irish pub. This is when things got a bit hazy. Meet lurch and his friend, start wandering around going to a few other bars, got a little ill off the Thai food and demolished one of the bathrooms (taking a disgusting crap when a chick walked in because she thought the men's room was empty... that was cool), drink some more, head to another bar, and that's where these pictures were taken. I think. Lurch and his bro take off, we end up at least one more bar and then a diner around 4am. I couldn't even see at this point but GOD DAMN that bacon omellete was AWESOME. Cab ride home. Apparently. Oh yeah between the diner and the last bar I think JayKeeley and I were air guitaring and yelling songs from Rust in Peace.
Saturday:
Well I was pretty well fucked that day, but still went to the Metropolitan Museum. Walking a mile each way through Central Park with a hangover sorta sucked, but then again was worth it. Great Greek exhibit, spent quite a bit of time there. On the way back grabbed another sammitch and I think pretty much passed out for the rest of the day.
Sunday:
Wake up early, "I feel refweshed," head over to the Natural History Museum. Cheesy space exhibit, but everything else was AWESOME. Very well set up museum with tons of interactive stuff. I missed the dinosaur part but was getting tired after 4 or 5 hours there anyhow. I've never even been to the LA one even though I've walked by it about 300 times on my way to the LA County Museum of Art. Meet up with JayK again and we walk around the Times Square area for several hours, a few more pubs but nothing crazy like Friday night. Ended up at Manny's Music where not many people were, cool store. JayK showed me some wicked material he had, and I played the intro to Peace Sells for him.
Cab back to the hotel, figure I'll get to sleep early so I can walk around town in the morning before heading to the airport. Wait, what's this? A bottle of whiskey on the floor I picked up a few days ago? Well I better drink it! Get hammered, go for a walk, call lurch for no apparent reason because I had no clue where I was and people are looking at me strange. Okay, I know where I am now, the hotel is just around the corner--HEY! A bar! Spent the next several hours there yapping to the bartender about California and why is sucks, asking how much a shot of Johnny Walker Blue Label is no less than 3 times ($35 each time, and my response was "I'm choo drunkk to enzooy that..."), last thing I remember is the new bartender asking what I was drinking "Sapphire and tonic!" and him pouring me another.
Monday:
This is like the worst day ever. Woke up with a start at 9am sitting up in my hotel room with clothes and shit everywhere, TV blaring, and the worst hangover since my foolish college drinking days. No idea how I made it back but no personal items were missing so it's okay. Take a shower and for the only 5 minutes of the whole day feel okay. Go back to bed, don't sleep. Get up in severe pain, go grab a sammitch, sit near Central Park reading Asimov and smoking, waiting for my shuttle to the airport. Get in the shuttle several hours later with a nice guy, but TERRIBLE driver. I don't get carsick, but this dude's inability to control a large vehicle combined with a wicked hangover almost made me hurl several times. Big accident on the freeway forces a long detour. Get to the aiport with just enough time before my flight (about an hour). What's this? Oh good, my flight was delayed 2 hours! I can sit here forever now! I think by the time we took off it was 3 hours late and I'm just completely dying. It's around 9pm, all I want to do is go to sleep or die or something. Movie sucked (Stepford Wives), and the vodka made me nervous oddly enough. My original plan was assuming a stopover in Denver, in which case I was going to drive home (about 950 miles or so). Stopover is in Dallas around 1am in the time zone I started the day in. I'm tired. Say fuckit and grab a hotel. Pass out. Finally.
Tuesday:
Texas is great. I never even wanted to visit this state before, but I loved it (other than the humidity). I could see myself living there some day (other than the humidity). People are so nice here, don't they notice the humidity? Drive. Drive some more. Many hours later in El Paso I witness and subsequently drive through the biggest thunderstorm I've ever seen. This was probably the highlight of my trip, it was just so damn cool. Stop in Lordsburg, New Mexico to get a hotel room after driving 900 miles. Listened to Danzig 4p extremely loud and further realized how great it is. Go to bed.
Wednesday:
Drive through the rest of New Mexico, then Arizona (I love this state), then all the way through my desert hometown, get to my parents house in the early evening. Momz is not very happy with me because she said I drove too fast. My dad, who takes 1000+ mile marathon roadtrips a few times a year said I drove too fast. It was a Chevy Aveo for crap's sake, how fast could I have gone! Drop off the rental car, have a smoke and a beer, I'm home.
As much as NYC kicked ass, I liked the road trip better and was extremely glad I took it. 1380 miles in 32 hours is a lot of driving though.
