♫Welcome to New-Wark, Welcome to New-Wark♫ I hummed to myself (to the melody of my bae’s Welcome to New York, obviously) as we landed at Newark Liberty in New Jersey (shout out to Porter for those 2 free 8am Steam Whistles and that bag of those dehydrated apple chip things)
Jersey. Last time I was in NYC, I felt like I was going to get punched for the barrage of loud New Jersey jokes I was making, so I’ll leave the state alone this time around. To be fair though, it was during Santa-Con, and I feel like no one who lives in Manhattan actually likes and attends Santa-Con, so I think my generalisations at the time were pretty just. For the record, I think Jersey’s an alright hunk of land. Lifetime, The Gaslight Anthem, Bouncing Souls, Chris Nieratko, The Boss, David Puddy, Ol’ Blue Eyes, and of course, MVP all came from Jersey. However, riding on NJ Transit’s trains feels like I’m riding in a straight up tank from the 1940’s.
A one time sample of the many dumb things I’ve said out loud on a packed air plane. I’d like to thank the little pink mystery pill I took in order to get on the plane in the first place for this gem.
I’ll skip over the hell that was navigating Penn Station with a full back pack and rolling suitcase, and get right to the apartment. Fun fact: The locks in the apartment we stayed in were really just for show. Keys weren’t necessary, provided you just pushed on the door handle with the right amount of force. Though I still humoured myself into thinking the place was secure, and pretended to use the keys to get in every time.
Lower East Side Drinking Club in our tiny and lock less Lower East Side apartment.
In addition to eating and drinking my way across Manhattan, the main purpose of this trip to the city, is to see The Loved Ones do a 10th anniversary victory lap for what was possibly the best org-core record ever written, Keep Your Heart.
There was an abundant use of a wizard staff during their set that was never fully explained. I’d really like some closure on that Dave.
It was a great show, though I expected nothing less.
Also, because we are now apparently in the ‘Fly to NYC for a weekend to see a punk show and spend way too much money’ tax bracket (I’ll make sure that’s reflected on my T4 this coming tax season) the following night we did all again. I got drunk and took a train to a warehouse in the butt hole of Brooklyn to see the guy from Hot Rod Circuit, the guy from Bayside, the guy from The Get Up Kids, the guy from Saves The Day and the guy from Alkaline Trio get drunk and try to play their hits.
The pic isn’t much, but they’re all there, trust me.
It was 2005 all over again, and I loved every minute of it. I became buds with the drunkest guy in the room (after trying to get him kicked out of the bar on the DL) and when we high fived when Chris Connelly played At Your Funeral, I could feel the years cigarettes on his hands. Gross.
The following day, some Seinfeld tourism was necessary. Went to Tom’s, drank a coffee, ate a lacklustre BLT wrap, used the bathroom and somehow managed to remain the master of my domain. The bathroom’s graffiti indicated that several other people had not, if bathroom graffiti can be trusted. It wasn’t a very sexy bathroom.
Tourists are fucking weird eh?
The Mulligatawny at The Soup Nazi was to die for. Almost literally. I ordered Mulligatawny (because I’m such an Elaine) which apparently contains pistachios and cashews, which are part of the family of foods to which I am deathly allergic. I wasn’t informed of this until I inhaled a solid 1/4 of the bowl on a bench in Central Park. No soup for me.
Tried to visit Venkman, Stantz, Spengler, and Zeddmore, but the whole fire house is currently behind scaffolding. Womp womp womp. Also, they’re not real people.
So I got this useless shot of my forehead (with the bitchin’ hairline scar visible) and the garage door.
We then tried to see if Louie would pop in for a late night set and tell some jokes his daughter wrote.
He did not. I lol’d anyway.
Eating gigantic NY bagels every morning at the TF is probably what I’ll miss the most. There are no bagel pictures because I inhaled them quickly because I’m a disgusting human being.
I also bought an American flag and a vintage issue of Playboy at a flea market in Brooklyn, but that’s boring as all hell.
Things I learned over my weekend spent in 2 of the 5 boroughs? (Does that sound cool? Does that make me sound like a Beastie Boy?)
- Even at .99 cents a slice, there is still no such thing as bad pizza
- Dunkin’ Donuts > Tim Hortons (not like that takes much)
- I’m still fucking useless at navigating a transit system