the lesser of two weavels
I ventured down to New Haven�s Union Station because the train there is around twenty-five dollars and the train from Hartford runs around one hundred dollars. The train into New York takes about two hours � depending on the amount of times your train stops � and I use that time to catch up on reading and falling asleep. This time I rested my forehead on the hinge of something and had a fantastic hinge dent there all day.
From Grand Central, where I arrived, I walked to the Yankee�s Clubhouse in or around Time�s Square and then onto Pennsylvania Station where Nicky was set to arrive, I arrived a whole hour and a half early because of my inability to adequately plan or read maps, train schedules or the newspaper.
While waiting for Nicky, at the appointed location, I was accosted by a man who had been recently released from rehab. In rehabilitation, the hospital tested him for several sexually transmitted diseases and upon his release was informed that he was HIV positive � tragic � and with that information got stoned. This unsavory, tragic character talked to me for a good twenty to thirty minutes while I anxiously awaited Nicky�s arrival. I did not know why this man was talking to me, but I tried to be understanding as I quietly hoped he would run along and bother someone else. When Nicky arrived, I pretended I could read a map and then we went and looked for a bus, a bus that was hard to find and took forty-five minutes to go maybe a mile or two.
We went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan and saw most of their exhibits, and dazzled ourselves with our cleverness as we experienced the exhibits. They had the tomb and mummy of Pharaoh Spritopias, many artifacts from the yard sale at Michael Jackson�s Never Land Ranch, also a bust of Alex Vance. We were surprised to see that.
Afterwards we had the adventure of getting the cellular phone back from Mohammed the Cab Driver. Before you assume that I am a bigot, my initial concern for my sister at the time of the lost cellular phone was that some strange man, absent his nationality or creed, had my sister�s cellular phone. When we met Mohammed to retrieve the phone we were surprised at how tiny and harmless he actually was. We took his cab back to Pennsylvania Station where we bid him farewell, ate terrible pizza and then took our respective trains home.
This could have been interesting but I have �Master And Commander: The Far Side of the World� on television and it is making my boring by association. Later, I will inform you of the origin of the Easter Bunny.
