March 25, 2005
You have a friend in Philadelphia
I started this post last week and forgot about it. Here it is, for the sake of completeness.
The Hazzards and I went down to Philadelphia this weekend for a show at the Manhattan Room. Our pay was to be a cut of the door, the gratitude of the city of brotherly love, and one pizza. I could beat around the bush, or try to think of some clever way to say this, but that pizza sucked. It sucked, sucked, sucked. And listen, I was raised on frozen pizza, don't think I'm some kind of pizza snob. If that's how pizza tastes in the rest of the country, I'm never leaving New York. I almost want to go back next weekend to sample some of their other pizzas to see if they're as bad. Long story short, had some bad pizza in Philly.
Also, on the way there, we made a stop at a rest area, where they had one of those machines that squishes your pennies into lame memorabilia. I noticed that one of the choices was for the World Trade Center, which I thought was funny, because it was clearly made before 2001, and I was surprised whoever was in charge had just left it there. I had fifty-one cents, so, why not? But I did it wrong and got a Statue of Liberty penny. Which didn't excite me. As I went back to get the one I wanted, this little kid was pawing at the machine. He was fascinated by it but didn't seem to have any money. I got my World Trade Center one out, and he asked me if he could have it. I handed him the Statue of Liberty one and waited for his thanks. After a few moments of the kid staring blankly at me, I said, "What do you say?" "Thank you," he replied.
Historians of the future, you can thank me later for making sure the documentation of these events wasn't lost forever.
November 22, 2004
You have a friend on New Jersey Transit
I was going to write a post about how I took New Jersey Transit this weekend to visit my grandfather, and on the way back all I had was a fifty, which the conductor refused to take, so I had to get change from a passenger and engage him in some somewhat awkward conversation, but I decided that it really wasn't that interesting.
October 16, 2004
You have a friend at White Castle
When I was considering shaving my beard into a mustache, my friend Erik Sofge told me that during the period that he had one, he met a number of people who thought he was an asshole and then later confided to him that it was partially because he had had a mustache. So Will, you might ask, why did you grow one and what does that have to do with White Castle? I'll answer one of those questions.
I went to see Bishop Allen with my good friends, The Hazzards, and there I noticed someone else with a mustache. My distaste for him was instant. Yes, I am constantly judging complete strangers. Yes, it was because of the mustache. Yes, I am a hypocrite.
So, a couple of beers later, I found myself wandering back to my apartment, kind of drunk, kind of hungry, when what did I see but the local White Castle. How could I resist. In line, I noticed that that mustache guy was there. Some crazy woman was talking some gibberish about how she went to college to be a social worker and how she was going to hire a hitman. Or something. The mustache man and I exchanged bemused looks. His friend was ordering and was short twenty some cents. I happened to be fumbling with a quarter in my pocket, so I offered it to him. "You were at the Bishop Allen show, weren't you," I said. "Yeah. Come have a seat with us," he responded.
So, after I ordered the six pack, fries, and a Sprite, I decided to take him up on the offer. What did I have to lose. They seemed considerably more sane than the woman who was going to hire the hitman. My six pack was almost too much to handle. A regular burger, cheeseburger, jalapeno burger, chicken sandwich, bacon cheeseburger, and the piece de resistance, the dreaded fish burger. I ate it all, somehow.
But more importantly, the two guys and I started chatting about girlfriends and bands and what have you. I genuinely enjoyed our chat. They were both well over thirty, which kind of blew my mind - I'd like to think that showing up to White Castle drunk on a weekday is a habit I'll break by the time I'm in my thirties. One of the employees offered us a surplus of biscuits. There were two boxes, so one of my new friends offered it to the girls seated nearby, who I hadn't really taken much note of until now.
One of the girls was really cute and really drunk, and she told us she didn't want biscuits, she wanted water. My new friend told her all he had was biscuits. He then complimented her on her boots, and then sat back down. White Castle, the great equalizer. She may be hot and dressed up all nice, but when it all comes down to it, she's just another drunk at White Castle.
Anyway, we finished up our burgers, shook hands and parted ways. One of their names was Dan, I forget which one. I'll probably never see them again. But we'll always have White Castle.