PRE-ARMY TO-DO LIST 1987

 PRE-ARMY TO-DO LIST 1987

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In the Spring of 1987, I was 17 years old and living in the Bradley Gardens section of Bridgewater, NJ at the Somerset Home for Temporarily Displaced Children. My dear mother had another breakdown the previous September and the state ‘put me up’ for my own protection, which in English meant that I was not on the street or alone. It also meant the state couldn’t be sued, and they could brag about how they were saving me.
  The one good thing about my situation was that I went to school and lived in the same house. I told some people I went to a small boarding school, which wasn’t so far from the truth. The teacher we had wasn’t too hard on us and really didn’t have any traditional school administration, so she didn’t have to follow any traditional rules. With a dozen or so other students, this was as close to a ‘one-room schoolhouse’ as I ever got.
I had already signed up with the US Army the previous August with a departure date of July 15, but that was dependent on my earning a high school diploma. I got to listen in on a conference call with Trish, our teacher, and the Woodbridge School District. She told them that I deserved ‘maximum credit’ for my work done with her. They replied, “...ok, so we will issue him a diploma.” She never had to demonstrate any work or even fill out a form or sign any documents. I squeaked by and slipped through the cracks. My mother insisted on me marching with the other graduates in the ceremony back home, and the fact that she worked in the township they got me in, was against my wishes.
    In the Spring, I was permitted to leave ‘school’ at noon to go to work. I first worked at the daycare center through a youth jobs program in the summer of 1985 and when I went back to the ‘Somerset Home’, I called and asked if they were looking for any help. I was brought on in January.
Things were falling into place. One day, Bob, one of the lead counselors, who was a good guy, asked, “What things are you planning on doing before you leave for the Army?” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I only had about four months left. So I had some planning to work on. I shared this question with some friends and even my mom. By the end of the week or so, the list was quite full. If only I had the time and budget to do all of it.
One of the things on the list was a ‘Rock Concert’. In the days before the internet, lists of concerts were hard to come by. Once in a while you got lucky and they talked about upcoming shows on the radio. My friend, Bob, had the list from the newspaper of the shows at the Garden State Arts Center (which was later known as the PNC Bank Arts Center) in Holmdel, NJ.
  My best friend was Mike Negron, who was a year older than me. I called him and we tried to pick a show that we could go to. His mom was quite protective of him because he had some minor medical issues. He was 19 and a college student at Rutgers, even though he lived at home. We got his mom to be cool with the concert by allowing her to drop us off and pick us up. It also got us a ride. There were only a few shows for bands we wanted to see on a night we could go. We also wanted real seats and not to be on the lawn.
I got the shelter to bring me to the Ticketron outlet in Somerville. Of the shows on our wish list, the one I got was a three-band show, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, the Georgia Satellites, and the Del Fuegos. While at the ticket spot, I picked up schedules for the Yankees and the Mets. Once back at the house, I called up Mike with the news of our concert tickets and we tried to pick a date for a baseball game. The number of Saturday games was limited. We chose to go to a Mets game because one Saturday they had a special Fan Appreciation Day, which usually meant free giveaways. Even though we were both Yankees fans, the Mets had won the World Series the prior season, so rooting for the Mets wasn’t so frowned upon that year.
The morning I was going to get the tickets, my mom calls me. I mention to her, “Hey, mom. I’m going in a bit to get some tickets to the Mets game. Do you want me to get one for you too?”  She said no. Did I have some ulterior motives for this? If she came, I could drive her car and that would save us from taking the long subway ride to Flushing. (I would drive to Shea Stadium but not to Yankee Stadium, go figure). So I went again to Ticketron and got two tickets on my way to work.
When getting back to the home that evening, there was a message, ‘Call your mother’. So I did. “Could you please get me a ticket too?”
“Well, it won’t be next to us. I already got the two.”
“That’s ok. I don’t have to sit next to you guys.”
“Sure, Mom, I’ll get it tomorrow.”
The next day I go get her a ticket. Her seat was one of the last ones in the whole stadium, third to the last row, in the last section. Way up in the so-called ‘nosebleed’ section. Saw a comedian who once claimed he saw vendors there selling oxygen.
One weekend when I was at my mom’s, I saw a flier that a local church youth group was sponsoring a bus trip to Seaside Heights for the afternoon and evening of July 4th. It would include the fireworks show at 9 pm. This would be another thing from my list, ‘A day at the Jersey shore’ and a big fireworks show was a bonus. When I called about the bus trip, I was told that the only thing that was included was the ride down and back. I was concerned that I would have to attend a service or be required to stand on the boardwalk and hand out Gospel tracks. I was considering buying two tickets so I wouldn’t be alone but ended up that I was buying the last ticket.
I was planning on moving back in with my mom a few days before graduation which was going to be on my 18th birthday, June 25. Turns out that I had to go to school the three days prior just for graduation practice. Just another reason I didn’t want to attend the ceremony itself.
The two other things that were on my list were a day in NYC and a day in Philadelphia. I would fit those into the last three weeks.

When Bob asked me for an update on my plans, I told him and even showed him the tickets. He was quite impressed. He asked me what I had planned for the NYC trip. I listed off some of the things. When I mentioned the Laser Show and ‘Rocky Horror’ he wanted in. He was working that Friday but he would meet us at the laser show and drive Mike and me to the Village for Rocky. Then drive us home afterward. That would be very convenient. This also helped relieve Mike’s mom and her concern about us missing the last train home, which happened to us once before. There are a few worse things than being stuck in the wee hours at the train station, waiting for the first train of the morning to get home.
So things got off to a good start.  From one person’s idea grew a scheme to have a series of adventures prior to my departure to Basic Training. Had a great list of things to look forward to over these last few weeks.
My mom was most looking forward to my graduation which is weird because she was actually a great hindrance to my whole middle and high school period. I didn’t want to be there at all. If you ask most people, high school graduation is about being alongside your friends and sharing individual accomplishments with companions who did it with you. I knew I was a fraud and I was with a group of strangers.
Chronologically, the first thing that happened was the Mets game., May 16 vs the San Francisco Giants. Thankfully my mom decided to come because I would drive her Dodge Colt. We picked up Mike early then drove over both the Goethals and Verrazano Bridges. There were two ways to go once we were in Brooklyn: on the Belt Parkway to the Brooklyn Queens Expressway or through the streets and neighborhoods. Don’t remember which way we went, probably the streets. My mom was averse to going on the Belt for some reason, even when she wasn’t driving.
Mike was born in the Bronx and went there often because his grandmother and uncles lived there. So going into New York was no big deal for him either. I only had my driver’s license since the previous summer and only had driven a few times through the City. So it was still kind of a big deal for me.
If going to Shea Stadium, we would always stop by my ‘Aunt’ Betty’s house. She was a good friend and neighbor of my parents since before I was born. In fact, when my parents picked me up at the adoption agency when I was six months old, they brought me to Betty’s house before bringing me home. Her house was the host for most of my Thanksgivings and Christmases as a youth. We didn’t stay there long for some reason. If I remember right she had to go somewhere.
From there we went on the local roads to the stadium. The last and longest stretch was on Roosevelt Avenue, an iconic street that runs under the Number 7 Elevated Subway Line, every few minutes a train would rumble by overhead. All while the general hustle and bustle of the communities going by on the sidewalks in the blinking shadow of the passing commuter cars. With the smells of the many ethnic eateries, which seem to have two or three on each block. It was always a great novelty to go through a neighborhood like this with the windows rolled down (my mother swore that the A/C cut your mileage by at least half). It was still mid May so it wasn’t warm at all.
We still got to the stadium plenty early. At Shea Stadium they had a parking lot, something that didn’t exist at Yankee Stadium, forcing you to park in garages or far away on the streets. Then you had to walk several blocks. After parking, we went towards the gates. There was a great crowd around, what looked like demonstrators. We go over to see what the hubbub was about. Several people were holding signs saying “I flew him.”
During game six of the 1986 World Series, someone had parachuted onto the field from an airplane, trailing a banner saying “Lets Go Mets”. The person was arrested, later pled guilty and paid a fine. He was accredited with rallying the fans and players. The Mets won that night and the next game to bring the Trophy home. In the spring, the feds arrested the parachutist again and demanded to know who the pilot was of the airplane, claiming the pilot violated the airspace in the area, the stadium is very close to LaGuardia Airport. The demonstrators were collecting signatures to gain the jumper’s release from custody. Never found out what finally happened with the whole thing. We all signed but mine wouldn’t have counted because I was still only 17.
We entered the stadium and brought Mom to her seat. We wrote down our section/row/seat numbers in case she needed us. We then went to find our seats. Without remembering exactly but let’s say she was section 338, our section was 335. So I figured we weren’t so far away. But little did I know that the odd-numbered sections were the third base side and even sections on the first base side. We ended up having to walk around the whole stadium to our seats, the stadium seating being in a horseshoe shape. When we get there, we look across the field and there is my mom, sitting alone, none of her neighbors were there yet. Sure enough, on the third to the last row, in the last section of the stadium. We were cracking up, hysterically, to the point of tears!

We got hotdogs and even beers from a vendor, even though we were 17 and 19. At one point in the game, we went to check on mom and brought her a hotdog and soda. We told her that at the end of the game to wait in her seat and we would come back for her.

At another point in the game she came and found us! She had taken a trip to the lady’s room and wanted to stretch her legs some.

At the end of the game we got mom and exited into the lot and found the car. We follow the other cars out but get stuck in a line that went onto the Grand Central Parkway. Not where we wanted to be. Instead of going west, we were going south. Not the end of the world but not ideal. We decided to stay on the Grand Central until we got near JFK Airport, then catch the Belt Parkway west to the Bridge. 

My mom only had a vague recollection of the highways in the area, being she rarely used them when she lived in the area, before moving to Jersey fifteen years prior. We had no time table and being on an island we weren’t so concerned about getting lost (even though the island, Long Island, went another 150 miles to the east).  We followed signs toward JFK and then to the Belt Parkway. This brings us back into Brooklyn. At one point the sign said the next exit was for Coney Island. Mom said, “Let’s go to Coney Island!” We didn’t say no. Ended up walking along the boardwalk and beach. Walked through the rides and amusements. There was an hour long wait to ride the Cyclone. So we passed on the iconic roller coaster. We did stop at Nathan’s for more hot dogs. Coney Island is a large resort area because it’s the only ocean beach accessible on the subway. Has been big since the subway first went out there about 1924.

We went home from there, without incident. Even if it was after 10 pm. It was a good day.

The next stage of the odyssey was moving back to my mom’s place and graduation. Had considered getting myself a hotel room. There were a few cheap motels nearby but that would have been expensive and I was still short of 18 years old. So that wasn’t going to happen. I had put in my two weeks’ notice at work. They already knew I was leaving soon. At the day care they had a “graduation” for the kindergarten class that was an evening ceremony on Friday, the 19th. I told the staff at the home I had to go but that was a lie. I did what I could to stay out of there as much as I could. I was ready to leave there, having been there since November. I also pushed my departure back one day but that was okay.

Kindergarten graduation is mostly about the parents and grandparents and them taking photos. It was still good to go. A lot of the kids had been coming here since they were in diapers. They started allowing kids to come at 12 weeks old. There were maybe 100 kids total in the center which shared an old school building with a senior center.

I did like working in the day care center. It was easy, fun, it paid real money and it got me out of the shelter. It was win-win-win. For a very little bit had considered a career in Early Childhood Education.

Went back to the house for the last time after the ceremony. Didn’t make a big deal about leaving the house and the ‘system’. Had said my goodbyes already and was ready to move on. I had already brought most of my things to my mom’s over the prior few weeks. So when Saturday came I had only one small bag to carry. I wanted to just get on the train but mom wanted to pick me up. It was frustrating because that meant I had to wait until she was ready to leave her house and drive to ‘the house’ which was a delay of several hours.

Eventually mom shows up. By then I’m anxious to get going. I drove her car away. Once back at my mom’s, just dump my clothes into the washing machine. What little else was carried was mostly toiletries.

Monday, June 22nd, had to actually walk a few blocks to the school bus stop. Felt very odd. Didn’t know anyone. I had a mustache that I had touched up with some mascara, two decades before the term metro-sexual was invented. There were a few pluses to living in a house with a bunch of teen girls who thought that things like running away from home were worthy of admiration. Everyone thought I was older than I was. Who was this guy drinking coffee (the bus stop was in front of a deli) and smoking cigarettes? Why come to a new school with only a few days left in the year?

As much as it pained me to do, I got on the bus. At the school, I went into the office, where they were waiting for me. Had all of my paperwork ready. The guidance counselor had me wait in her office for most of the first morning, which beat having to go to classes. She brought me to the teacher who was the coordinator of the graduation.

This teacher was quite confused. “So you are going to graduate from a school you didn’t go to?”

“Yeah, that’s about it.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t. My mentally unstable mother, who works for the township, insisted on it.”

“Oh, now I get it,” she said. She was relatively sympathetic to my plight from that point. She handed me off to the social studies teacher, someone whom I recognized from my few weeks there the previous September. He even had me report to him for ‘home room’, after which would be only graduation practice or getting lectured in the auditorium for the last few days.

On Tuesday walking into the school, I ran into my Army Recruiter who was going to be one of lecturers that day. He remembered me or at least that’s what he said and had me sit on the stage with him during his sales pitch. He didn’t know that as far as his audience was concerned I was a nobody. This gave me something to do.

It was this day that I saw the yearbook and my photo was actually in there. Surprise, surprise! Also found out that it was too late to buy one, which was just as well.

Tuesday was also the first day of marching practice. It was threatening to drizzle, so we only practice inside in the gym. That was the location for bad weather. Did several run through because there was nothing else to do.

Wednesday was pretty much the same thing and again practiced only inside because it was raining. I was so ready for this to be over.

Thursday was graduation day, as well as my birthday. It was also a half day of school being it was a make-up day from a snow day over the winter. We had a marching practice on the football field, finally. The weather was hot and that evening’s forecast was for more of the same.

Our first march practice, we sat in our seats and the principal got behind the podium and chewed everyone out, explaining how we were not going to embarrass him tonight. He would withhold the diploma from anyone who did anything stupid. Guys were only to wear shoes and dress pants. No sneakers, no jeans, no shorts. He also announced that the graduation would be inside the gym and we would be permitted to leave right after the one last run through in there. While we were being yelled at, we were all baking in the hot sun.

When the last rehearsal was done and we were told, “get out of here, come back at six o’clock”. I was so ready to get out of there, I just started walking away. If I would have thought about it just a bit I would have come to the conclusion that I could walk home (a bit longer than an hour or sit around for another 20 minutes to get on the bus for a ride home). But I didn’t think and after a bit of walking, the school bus drove right on by me. It gave me an excuse to stop at the best sandwich spot in the area. Which was on my way home. It was nice to have my own money in my pocket.

Got home and had to take a shower. Turned on the AC and laid on the couch. Didn’t get up until mom got home, a bit after five.  Got dressed with shoes and pants. We went and picked up Mike on the way. I went to his graduation the year before. I had gotten two tickets (had six for the outside event but that was canceled). I had nobody else to invite. There was one guy who sat near me during the practice who was offering twenty bucks cash for any extra tickets he could get his hands on!

It was hot and sticky in the gym and loud with all the yelling. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like during a basketball game. The only bit of mischief that happened was one of the graduates snuck in a deflated beach ball and during the ceremony inflated it and it was batted around some before one of the teachers grabbed it and everyone booed.

The event went on too long, eventually it ends and to Pomp and Circumstance we march out and into a smaller room where we actually got our diplomas. I got mine and ran out. There was nobody I wanted to say goodbye to….it was time to go. We got away before any traffic jam could begin.  I’d save the celebrating until tomorrow.

I did not go back to JFK again until 2009 when my daughter Nicole, who for a bit went to the neighboring middle school and they held their ‘holiday concert’ in the high school auditorium. Nicole was in the chorus.

Going to New York was the event on my calendar that I was most excited about. This was one of the first times that I would just have a whole lot of free time to explore, to just wander which many, many years later became one of my favorite things to do.

Our plan was to buy the Rocky Horror tickets when the box office opened at noon (it was a very old, small one screen movie house and often was sold out by 6 pm for the midnight showing.) Then we were free from then until we were meeting Bob at the Hayden Planetarium for the laser show, which started at 7:30. We already got those tickets at Ticketron. The 8th Street Playhouse was on 8th Street, obviously, and the planetarium was on 81st street. We had 7 and a half hours to go 73 blocks. We had lots of time and a bit of money, so we were good to go!

Mom dropped me off at Mike’s house on her way to work, just before 10 am. We put Mike’s overnight bag into my mom’s car then so it would be at my house when we got there about 2 am or so. Mike’s stepfather dropped us off at the Metro Park train station about 10:30. We wanted to come after the rush hour and get to the theater box office before noon. Throughout the mid-day, there was to New York bound trains each hour. It felt very unusual to be buying only one way tickets.

The train for me was fairly common, having ridden it for many years. When I was young, we lived two blocks from Newark and New York bound bus stop and going into Manhattan it was very convenient. My father took it on his commute daily from 1973 until his death in 1980.

The New Jersey Transit commuter rail system came from the ashes of the old Penn Central trains and in the late 70’s and early 80’s was taken over by the state. It was quicker and smoother than the bus and a lot more comfortable. Mike also used the train daily in his college commute to Rutgers in New Brunswick. For a couple of young guys we were very familiar with riding these rails.

It’s only about a 20 minute ride from MetroPark to Newark Penn Station, which was our destination today. From there we crossed the platform and got on the PATH train. A separate commuter subway-like rail system, Newark Penn Station was its western terminus and this ‘line’ went from here to underneath the World Trade Center in lower Manhattan. We take the PATH from here two stops to Journal Square in Jersey City, where we cross the platform and get on another ‘line’ that takes us four more stops and under the Hudson River to 9th street in Manhattan. It’s a short walk to the theater. We get there before noon as planned and there is already a line. It’s not a long line, maybe a dozen people.

While waiting these few minutes we talk about lunch. For us in the City, that usually means pizza but we know we’re getting pizza tonight. The line begins to move and we get our turn in short order and we get three tickets. After which we work our way back to the 9th Street PATH station. Popping in some funky shops that this part of Greenwich Village is known for. We go into a local eatery for a quick lunch break. Back at 9th Street PATH station we were heading uptown, the PATH was a cheaper option than the City subway and if you’re going the same place, in the same manner, may as well save some money in the process.

On the train it’s a quick zip under 6th Avenue, three stops (14th, 23rd, 33rd Streets) to Herald Square, the PATH’s northern end. From the underground station we walk up the steps to the street. Here Broadway crosses 6th Avenue between 32nd and 34th Streets. At one point it was the home of the New York Herald Newspaper. Today it was the site of Macy’s, “The World’s Largest Department Store” or so it was proclaimed from the front of the store itself, the home of Santa Claus. We work our way north on Broadway, stopping in some of the shops concentrating on music, records and electronic stops. This is when we come across the IBM Info Center which was a public relations center that took visitors through an exhibit of some upcoming IBM Technologies. We both found this interesting and spent some time in there.

We then continued up Broadway to Times Square, that was still the home of the iconic newspaper. We got pretzels and watched the scrolling news headlines and the Jumbo-tron screen.

In the 1980’s Times Square was still quite seedy. It wasn’t until the 90’s when it was cleaned up and Disney-fied. In 1987 there were a lot of porn theaters and ‘adult novelty’ shops there. We didn’t stay there long.

We went up 7th Avenue from there, popping in different shops until we got to 57th Street where we took a detour and went to the Hard Rock Café. It was a cool thing to have buttons from there for some reason. We bought a couple and peeked into the restaurant. We could see the memorabilia hanging on the walls but couldn’t read all of the signs. Some things were obvious….who but Elvis had rhinestone encrusted jumpsuits with bell bottoms?

Back onto 7th we go back uptown until we cross 59th Street and enter Central Park. By this time it’s nearing 4:00 and the rush hour was about to begin. A summer Friday rush hour was something to avoid. The park would be a great place to hopefully avoid all of this.

This was my first visit to Central Park without a specific destination or activity on the agenda. It’s usually, ‘there is an event at the bandstand at 2:00’ or ‘there is a special thing at the zoo opening this weekend.’ But today we were free to wander almost aimlessly. We were at 7th Avenue at Central Park South which is West 59th Street and about 4:30. We were meeting Bob at 7:30 in front of the Planetarium, which is at West 81st Street between Central Park West (8th Avenue) and Columbus Avenue (9th Avenue). We had time and some money and the weather was great! We had all we needed to get into some mischief.

Once in the park there are series of paved paths most of which had an endless chain of benches lining each side, as depicted in countless movies over the years. We stopped for pretzels at one of the ubiquitous push carts and munched as we strolled through the lanes.

As we came upon the zoo, we contemplated going in but decided against it. But we popped into the penguin house, which is free and always crowded. Just past the zoo is an old clock that on each hour a mechanic parade of animals danced around to some music provided by a series of bells but it was going through some maintenance during our visit. The Glockenspiel wasn’t going to chime for us today.

We continued to stroll, almost aimlessly. We got to the bandstand and sat on the stage watching roller skaters, skate boarders doing various tricks. Next we went to the Bethesda Fountain and hung around there for a while. At one point there was a girl walking in the fountain who was lifting her sun dress up so far that she showed everyone around her panties which we got a big kick out of. We also spotted a couple on the grass, near the tree line that we thought might actually be having sex in the park. He was lying on his back and she was straddling his pelvis, bumping and grinding. We also stayed around and watched that for a while. Didn’t see anything to prove or disprove our suspicions either way.

From there we walked on to the pond, where they rent out remote control sail boats. Don’t remember how much they were but we thought it was very expensive. We ended up getting hotdogs and watching the boats move along slowly.

Mike and I then moved toward the wet side some being unsure how far uptown we had gotten. We passed the lake where they rent pedal boats and the Tavern on the Green restaurant. 

Our next stop was Strawberry Fields, the garden set up by Yoko Ono to memorialize John Lennon on a site where they used to go often, being only about 400 yards away from their home in the Dakota building. It has the now famous “Imagine” mosaic. It always seems to be a haven for people with acoustic guitars. I’ve never failed to see at least three whenever I’ve been through there. Today was no exception.

Now that we knew where we were in relation to where we wanted to end up, we ended up sitting around there for a while and even got Italian Ices. We were only a few blocks from the American Museum of Natural History, on the north side of which was the Hayden Planetarium.

The Museum is a large piece of property. Going from West 77th Street to West 81st Street. It’s got several floors of exhibits including a stuffed Blue Whale and two separate halls of dinosaurs. The facility even has its own entrance from the subway! The whole building is not public exhibition space, there are research facilities and administrative offices there too.

When the clock stuck 7:00 we exited the park and walked on the sidewalk along the park (east) side of Central Park West (which is called 8th Avenue south of 59th Street) the last few blocks to West 81st Street.  In the center of the Museum building, on the CPW facing side is the Theodore Roosevelt National Memorial and the main entrance of the Museum, although rarely used. Theodore Roosevelt was the only President born in NYC that is until Donald Trump. I’m willing to bet he would be happier about the National Park named after him in North Dakota than this statue.

On the Northwest corner is the building they used for the outside shots from the film Ghostbusters, the one where Sigourney Weaver lived, where the monsters came.  At the corner we crossed the street and walked along 81st street. The Planetarium was about half way down the block. Just as we were walking toward the steps, Bob comes walking from the other direction.

“How about that…great timing!” Bob says. I introduce Bob and Mike as we join the line of people waiting to go in to see the show.

“Where did you park?”

“Oh right here. They have a very small parking lot and not cheap. I figured that the place would be empty at this hour.”

“What time does it close? Will you be able to get your car out after the show?”

“Yes, they lock it up at 11:00. We have plenty of time to go eat at this pizza place you’ve told me so much about.”

Mike adds, “It’s the best and only on the next block.”

Shortly after this the doors open and the line begins to move. I don’t remember which show we went to this night. I’ve seen several over the previous two years or so. Once inside we visit the men’s room and enter the circular pavilion. A good tip is to sit towards the outside of the circle. Ideally close to the booth that the ‘laser-est’ uses to run the show. There are about 1,000 seats inside. In the center of the room is the giant star projector that products the stars onto the great domed ceiling. We are settled and soon everyone was in and seated. The doors were closed and some announcements were made. No smoking, no photography…then the show began.

The laser show is hard to describe. Music is played that’s quite loud which is how we liked to hear Rock and Roll. They must have the place very well sound insulated because there is zero echo from the dome above which is very unexpected from an acoustical stand point. The laserist projects onto the ceiling images that animate and coordinate with the music. They will often use the star projector to add to the performance. One time I brought a girl to a show and she referred to it as ‘trippy’ as in a psychedelic experience. This is most true in sequences that have very rapid tempo tunes and the dome looks like you are flying through outer space and the stars are swirling around like the night sky is being played in fast forward. It was my first show, “Laser Zeppelin”, where I got hooked on Led Zeppelin music.

The performance was over much too quickly. Maybe a little more than an hour or so. But it takes some time to readjust to the earth once it’s over. Sorta like how one must take a moment after coming off a roller coaster or other fast spinning amusement ride. It was a good thing that we were walking to Ray’s Pizza from here. Bob’s mind was blown and would need time to decompress before attempting to drive.

After exiting the building, Bob went on and on about how great the experience was. We were walking along 81st Street toward Columbus Avenue when we came across a pan handler requesting ‘Donations for the United Negro Pizza Fund’, which we thought was hysterical and worthy of a ‘donation’.

At Columbus, we cross the street and head right (uptown or North) about half a block to the ‘Original Famous Ray’s Pizza’ but the 15 or so shops in the city all claimed to be the ‘original’. (There was once a placed named ‘Not Ray’s Pizza’!)

I first found this place after a visit to the museum and wanted to eat some place besides the basement cafeteria, maybe three years before. In front of the place were two bicycles that had insulated boxes mounted on the, to deliver pizza around the neighborhood.

Entering the restaurant we form a line that’s in front of the plexiglass counter. There must have been 20 or so different ‘slice pies’ on display, each with different combinations of toppings. A ‘slice pie’ is usually larger than a standard ‘large pizza’ often 18-20 inches in diameter., for reasons I can’t even guess at. It tastes so much better. Maybe that’s because I’ll often get slices in New York and not whole pies and outside of the City I’ll do the opposite. As the line moves up and you inch towards the clerk you tell him or her which slices you want and they plop them back into the oven, which is right behind them to warm them up. Next you order your drinks, most people get fountain sodas but there are also bottles of Snapple and even beer or wine. By the time the customer comes to the cash register, his slices are out of the oven and you are ready to eat.

The first few times I came here I sat under the picture of a tree that was painted on the tiles. Never figured out whether the tiles came with the tree painted on it or someone painted it onto the tiles once they were installed onto the wall. In typical NY pizza shop fashion there were the standard assortment of condiments: salt, pepper, garlic salt, crushed red peppers, oregano, parmigiana-rigiana, among others. Once the three of us were under my tree we began to eat right away. The wonderful aroma that had been teasing our tummies through our noses had already had our salivary glands ramped up and in full production before we had even made our choices known to the clerk. It’s sorta like when you walk into someone’s home on Thanksgiving day and you begin drooling and the turkey is still in the oven. The conversation had stopped. If we were talking that may interrupt this delightful dining experience. Our mouths were quite busy.

Mike and I had each gotten two slices but Bob got only one. He was very skinny but after he finished his he announced that he was going back for a second! Mike joked that after the laser show and Ray’s Pizza Bob may go into sensory overload! And the night wasn’t over yet.

By the time we were all done and ready to move on, it was inching close to 10:00. We still had lots of time before the parking lot closed. We each went to the bathroom and slowly strolled back towards the Hayden Planetarium. (Which a decade later was renamed the Rose Center for Earth and Space). The pizza panhandler had moved on (we had considered buying him a slice). We got into Bob’s card and he started it up.

“How do we get there?” he asks.

I was befuddled. “Ya know, I have no idea. I’ve never driven there only had been there on the subway.”

“Well…we’ll figure it out. We’re on a small island, so we can’t get too lost!” He laughed as we pulled out onto the street. “It’s on 8th Street you said?”

“Yeah, we were there at noon. Just off of 8th Avenue. So go to the right and make a right on Central Park West that will turn into 8th Avenue when we get to Columbus Circle.”

Mike adds, “Did you ever wonder why Columbus Avenue doesn’t lead you to Columbus Circle?” Which makes us all laugh.

We cruise southward with the Park to our left. The traffic lights are sequenced so if you’re driving at 25 miles per hour, you’ll go several blocks before having to stop for a red signal, which is an incredible amount of coordination considering there’s a light on every corner.

“So you guys walked all this way?” Bob asks.

“Only from Herald Square, 33rd Street and 6th and Broadway.”

“That’s 48 blocks!?” Bob states incredulously. “Plus going west from 6th is essentially 9th Avenue.”

“Plus walking the winding pathways of the park,” Mike adds. “Charlie, one day we need to walk down Broadway from the Harlem River to the Staten Island Ferry.”

“That’s gotta be like 200 blocks?” Bob says.

“Maybe one day…but Broadway ends at Bowling Green, a couple of blocks short of the Ferry terminal.”

“Oh well, close enough,” and we all laughed.

A few blocks later Bob asks, “We got plenty of time….right?”

“Well the show doesn’t start for two more hours….and we have…,” I look out the window, “about 60 blocks to go. What do you have in mind?”

“I’d like to drive through Times Square. If that’s ok?”

“You’re driving, it’s only one block out of the way.”

When we got to Columbus Circle which is an intersection of West 59th Street and 8th Avenue/Central Park West and Broadway, Bob turned south on Broadway. I’ve never driving through Times Square except on a city bus. So this would give a new perspective on the landmark.

We go on through and luckily we’re stopped at the traffic light at 48th Street with no vehicle in front of us so we could look out the windshield into the lights and signs as a large crowd of people walked before us in the crosswalk. It was a welcome three minutes as the cross town traffic had the right of way and even longer for the intersection to be cleared of traffic and pedestrians before we continued our trek downtown. The traffic pattern made us bare right onto 7th Avenue which is just as well because we wanted to head west to 8th Avenue anyway.

Bob ended up turning right at 42nd street then left back onto 8th. “Hopefully we can park on the street and save some money over a lot or even worse a garage. I got 18 quarters here in the console,” and he pointed. “That will be more than enough.”

We continued down the Avenue when we got to 9th Street Bob made a right. “The theater is on the next block,” I pointed out.

“Yeah but we won’t be able to make a right there. If 9th is a one way westbound, 8th will be a one way east. If we turn on 8th Street we’ll be going AWAY from where we want to go.”

“Oh, good catch. I wouldn’t have even thought of that. My whole life I’ve been trained to avoid driving in Manhattan. Can only remember my mom driving here like two or three times. And she lived here most of her life.”

“Where did she live?”

“East 21st Street. Between first and second avenues. She didn’t even learn to drive until she moved to Queens when she got married when she was 23 and she thought she was moving to the sticks then.”

“Did your dad live in Queens?”

“No, he lived in Manhattan until they got married.”

“Where did your dad grow up?”

“On Sutton Place.”

“Did his family have a lot of money? That’s a very well-to-do neighborhood.”

“It wasn’t in the 20’s and 30’s. He was born in 1931. Ya can’t even think about that area now a days if you’re not something like a millionaire.”

“Whoa, there is someone pulling out of a spot!” Mike point out.

“Oh, yeah! This is our lucky day.” Bob pulls in to the spot which is on the left side of the street. Once we’re parked, Bob looks for a sign making sure we can park here on Fridays and Saturdays. The stars had all aligned today. There was even about 45 minutes left on the meter! Bob puts in enough quarters to keep us safe till 2 am. Then we lock up the car and head to the theater. There is a line waiting for us. No surprise. We already have our tickets.

In the line we chit-chat with some of our neighbors. Bob asks, “How long before midnight do they open the doors?”

Our new friends tell him, “you’ll know when the doors open by the cast. Their all across the street at the pizza place. When you see them screaming and yelling, running across the street the doors just opened.”

We all keep one eye on the pizza shop for the rest of our time in the line. I end up flirting with a girl in the line near us until I tell her I live in New Jersey then she’s not even interested in being polite any longer. (Yes, when I was a teen I spoke with a New York accent. About a year and a half later I was living in Germany, in love with a girl from Idaho, with a roommate from Dayton, OH. You should have heard me then!)

As if on cue, the cast makes their ruckus and dash into the street, in total disregard for the traffic. This was answered by the whole assembly of us in the line by loud cheers. Not being subtle at 11:30 pm knowing that there are apartments about 25 feet above our heads. They don’t call this ‘the City that never sleeps’ for nothing!

The line quickly moves into the theater and we were all able to sit together. We tried to maneuver things so Bob would be sitting in the aisle but we couldn’t swing that. There were some pre-show announcements and skits but right at the stroke of midnight the main event started. The theater was quite small, maybe 800 seats. It was an old one screen ‘movie house’. I could imagine seeing a silent film there once upon a time.

Things here were quite professional, the performance, costumes, make up, even the limited props. The call and response was well rehearsed led by regulars with years of experience. At one point we got splashed with some water by the performers which was all in good fun.

The show ended with thunderous applause and an extra curtain call. Then it was all over. Everyone filed out of the theater and went wherever. We went back to Bob’s car which was untouched. Climbing inside we buckled up and hit the road. Bob knew how to get to the Holland Tunnel and at this hour there were no issues.

Soon we are zipping into the tubes that will bring us under the Hudson River back to New Jersey. We climb out on the streets of Jersey City in no time, the tunnels are just over a mile long. In another minute we’re on the highway, US 129 South that will take us over Hackensack River past Newark Airport and back to my house.

Bob goes on and on about the great time he had and how the hype that I shared with him that got him excited enough to ask to join us wasn’t even half of what he got. He even refused to take money from me to pay for gas, parking or tolls. 

With zero traffic on the highway we pull up to my house only about 40 minutes after exiting the theater, about 25 minutes after we entered the tunnel. This may be a personal best. At my mom’s place Bob puts the car in park gets out and hugs me knowing this will be the last time he sees me before leaving for the Army.

Mike and I enter the house and he calls his worried mother. “We are at Charlie’s…All is great…had an amazing time…can’t wait to tell you all about it later…thank you mom…goodnight.”

We are both pooped at this point. Within a few minutes we are both ready for bed until the phone rings.

I get it as fast as I can but the damage is done, the ringing woke up my mother. It was Mike’s mom calling. I gave the phone to him as I tried to pacify my incoherent and irate mom. 

“Oh mom we had such an amazing time!” and I start rattling off all of the places we went and things we did. This is all thanks to her in the first place because she is the one who showed me how to get around and do things on the cheap in NY. Even if we added up the transportation, tickets and food the total came to less than $50 each.

Mom was quite happy and maybe even somewhat impressed. She had forgotten about being upset that the phone rang at 2:30 am. She bid us goodnight and went back to bed. Within minutes after that Mike and I were sleeping hard. This was a memorable day.

My mom woke us up about 10:00 by announcing that she had made us scrambled eggs and bacon which was a real treat. I made some coffee and we all had breakfast together. We talked in detail about the previous day’s adventure which even I thought was quite impressive. I’ve done many, many things in New York but never had a whole day of a long string of activities. Living in close proximity to Manhattan it was no big deal to get onto a train or bus for a quick ride into the City. My father commuted every day. It was as common as going to the grocery store or more like the local convenience store. 

After breakfast I showered then mom drove us to the Woodbridge Center Mall that had a one hour photo spot. While waiting for the prints we browsed around some and looked around for people we know. We ended up finding some at the Burger King which was a common occurrence because it was the only place you could smoke in there. Mike found some of the people he graduated Woodbridge High with the year before. And was telling them about our previous day.

“No way you did all of that,” one said to him.

He checked his watch, “Give me 15 minutes and I’ll prove you wrong.” He says with a chuckle.

“How do you plan to do that?” another asks.

“We’re gonna pick up the pics at the one hour photo place then.”

“Maybe they’re ready now…let’s take a stroll.” He says as he stands up motioning to them to join us. A couple do as we exit and make our way back downstairs. Taking our time, hoping to eat up the few minutes we still have before the promised time.

The clerk does have our photos ready and we look at them with our old friends. This did convince them of our adventure, if the ticket stubs hadn’t already. We end up catching a taxi to Mike’s house and go over the whole story yet again for his family. His brother pulls out a map of New York and tries to plot our course as the tale unfolds. They were very impressed. Especially Mike’s Mom, who lived most of her lift in the Bronx. Mainly because she still sees Mike as her sick little baby, even though he’s now 19 and she did have five other kid, all younger than Mike and one still in diapers.

Mike’s stepfather dropped me near my home, he was going somewhere and was heading my way anyway. Didn’t do anything on Sunday, was letting my legs rest some from all of the walking on Friday.

On Monday my mom was going to go by the AAA office and pick up a tour book for Philadelphia for my trip there on Tuesday. I really didn’t know much about Philly, which may sound odd, considering that I lived about 100 miles from there most of my life. I had been to the Franklin Institute a few times, once on a school trip and once with the Cub Scouts. Both times went on a chartered bus and dropped us off at the door. In July 1985 went to the Live Aid concert on trains but went with people who knew where they were going so didn’t have to think about transportation. In 1976 when I was seven years old went there with my parents to take part in the Bicentennial celebrations. We went on a Greyhound bus from New York which may seem odd to go 20 miles Northeast just to travel 100 miles Southwest but that made things easier on my mom.

This part I was going on my own. Mike couldn’t come for some reason I can’t remember. This was going to be interesting. Spent some time watching the weather channel that day to try and get a glimpse of the weather there tomorrow. It turned out that Tuesday would be the best day after all. Philly would have the possibility of showers throughout the rest of the week. My target was set on it now.

When my mom got home at 9 pm (she worked usually from 1 to 9 on Mondays) she reported that the AAA office was out of Philly tour books. 

“You should come to the library tomorrow and go through the books there and make your trip on Wednesday.”

Then I told her about the rain in the forecast.

“Well….I’ll just go and find Independence Hall. They’re will be some tourist information booths near there.”

“How will you find Independence Hall?”

“If the people on the train can’t help me….I could always get in a cab.”

“I wouldn’t do it that way but it’s not the worst idea in the world.” Then she agreed to drop me off at the Metro Park train station on her way into work in the morning.

TUESDAY, JUNE 30, 1987

I woke up excited that morning. Zero nervousness considering I was going to an almost total unknown all alone. Ate a full breakfast and drank plenty of coffee. Mom wanted to leave early, she was concerned about the commuter traffic around the train station. It turned out she was correct.

“There is a year long waiting list for commuter parking spots here,” she told me. Fifteen years later they built a huge parking deck there, quadrupling the number of spaces.

I walked up to the ticket booth. “I need a round trip ticket to Philadelphia, please.”

“Are you going into the city or to the airport?”

“I’m going to see the Liberty Bell and what not.”

The clerk pressed some buttons and told me the price, which I thought was too cheap. “Do you know what stop I need to get off at?”

“Take the train to Trenton and get on the SEPTA R7 line that will take you into the city. They should know how to direct you from there.” He gave me four tickets. One to Trenton, one from there to Philly, then two for the return trip. Was happy that I was on my way. Even got a donut and coffee at the Dunkin Donuts booth.

It felt odd to be passing by the steps to the New York bound platform. Every time I’ve been on the other side I’d be coming FROM New York.

Almost needless to say the Trenton bound platform was almost empty while there were several dozen going the other way. Had been on the train a few times during the commuter crush. It was always standing room only. Thankfully that wouldn’t be an issue today. Had to remember to avoid the rush hour on the way back.

Didn’t have to wait so long for the train, which is always good. There were plenty of seats open. Took one that someone had left a copy of today’s New York Times for me to read on the way. Felt like a real commuter with a newspaper and a cup of coffee on the train but still felt like I was going the wrong way, away from New York. Zipping down the track we went. I’d only been past New Brunswick on the train a handful of times so there were new things to see along the way. I mentally checked off the stations one by one as we made our stops.

Past New Brunswick it’s a long ride to Princeton Junction and longer one into Trenton. Counting the Amtraks that zipped by us being we were on parallel tracks and would be all of the way to 30th Street Station in Philly.

We got to Trenton in about an hour which was a bit longer than expected. I left the copy of the newspaper on the seat where I found it. Someone else can read it next. How’s that for recycling?

In Trenton didn’t need to climb any stairs or even cross the platform. The SEPTA Train was parked right in front of our own. How convenient? The doors were open so I followed someone else who walked right on board. Most of the seats were empty. Walked within the car some which had a different look and feel than the New Jersey transit cars but that was to be expected. Was hoping to find a Philly paper on a seat but instead found a train schedule. This was maybe even a better thing. 

Kept unfolding the time table until finding the route map. This didn’t offer any tourist tips but it listed the stations in order. So it would be easier to keep track along the way to the city. Eventually the conductor boarded and announced “Tickets please. All tickets out please.” Then the doors shut and we finally were underway. Less than three minutes after leaving the station we were crossing high over the Delaware River and into Pennsylvania.

The conductor walked up to me and I handed over the ticket. “I’m hoping to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. What station should I get off at?”

He punched my ticket with a paper punch and handed it back to me. “Go to Suburban Station. It’s just a few blocks from there.” And without even looking at me he moved on to the next passenger. Well, at least I got the info I was looking for. 

My father’s Uncle Willy worked in New York City Subway token booths in the early 70’s. My dad would say that no matter where someone was trying to go he would give them directions to Coney Island and the one time someone asked “How do I get to Coney Island?” He sent them to Yankee Stadium! I was hoping that this guy wasn’t like that.

Flipping the schedule around to trace down the time table it would take another hour to get there. Good thing I left early.  It seemed that every five minutes we were slowing down to stop at another little station for two or three people to get on. I was anxious to get going. Still Amtrak zipped by us at 70+ miles per hour. Was considering hopping on one of those for the ride home but I already had these tickets paid for.

Ticking each station off as we progressed wishing I had brought a pen. By the time we got to the North Philly station the car was about 1/3 full of people. There were only a few stops left.

Finally we get to my station and I’m glad to be exiting the train. Looking up from the platform and through the glass I can see that we are in a mall or more correctly under one. This was a good thing. Finding the escalator which brings us up to the retail level, this could be any shopping mall in the US. They’re all mostly the same. My eyes are scanning for a Mall directory. Maybe there is a tourist information booth or welcome center in the mall? Wouldn’t that be grand?

So there is finally a directory, of course, it’s near an entrance. That makes a great deal of sense. There isn’t an info or welcome center but there is a neighborhood map. Sure enough, Independence Hall is only a few blocks away. Making some mental notes I got the route planned out. After a visit to the bathroom I hit the streets.

It was a warm, sunny day and the streets were bustling. It was a neighborhood of office towers with street level shops. People were going to and fro like what they were doing was important. I was an 18 year old (for almost a whole week already) wearing Levi jeans and a t-shirt and a pair of sunglasses just wondering down the sidewalk. Had lots of time, some money and a good sense of adventure. Maybe too much.

Approaching the corner where I need to make a right turn the theme of the neighborhood turns Patriotic; red, white and blue bunting and signage are hanging from the street lamp posts. Many of which are celebrating the Bicentennial of the US Constitution which would be the motif of the summer. (little did I know that day in June but I would actually graduate Army Basic Training on the actual Bicentennial of Constitution Day; September 17, 1987.)

Before making it to the corner I come across a stage on the left. A performance of some kind was taking place. There were no ticket takers so I assumed the show was free. Moving into the spectator space there was a large sign that showed the name of the dance troupe and there hometown: someplace in Nebraska. These girls I’m assuming between 9 and 12 years old did jazz style routines to some music. Couldn’t figure out what percentage of their audience were with the company and came with the dancers and how many just wandered up to the even on their way to other touristy activities as I had. I had to assume the roughly 10% in our crowd in suits and other business attire were on their lunch break from nearby enterprises. All in all my guestimate of the spectators was roughly 200 souls.

After two or three more numbers they took a final bow to the cheers of the on lookers. Then exited the stage. It was at this point I noticed that behind the stage was a grand vista. Two city blocks deep and one wide was the panorama. On the third block stood majestically, Independence Hall itself. Looking just like it does on the back of the $100 bill. Not sure how I missed this with the dancers on the platform. The crowd seemed to break up. I did also. To the far left of the stage was a sign board promoting the other acts that would be strutting their stuff here later. The only one that looked at all tempting was a Hawaiian Hula Troupe that was scheduled for 4:00. I’d have to keep this in mind with one eye on my watch.

Was also starting to think about lunch. It was now after 11 and soon all of these office buildings would be emptying of their hungry occupants. So maybe the time to eat would be now? Walking to the left side of the big lawns there is an old food truck but what I notice is that there is only one small family waiting outside. I can see on the next block slightly larger crowds gathering around other establishments. So this may be the best bet.

Standing on the sidewalk and reviewing the menu board, which pops into my focus “Famous Philly Cheesesteak Hoagie”. It takes me a moment to recall that what I call a sub sandwich the locals call a hoagie. When in Rome do as the Romans do. I place my order and pay $10 (which was even more than a one way set of train tickets home). After a few minutes the foil wrapped sandwich comes to me. I spot an area behind me that has a few office workers sitting on what may as well be giant concrete flower pots growing small evergreen trees, having smoke breaks. I take their cue and perch myself onto the safety barrier-cum-picnic table. The meal isn’t very spectacular, especially given its inflated price tag but it’s warm and gooey with melted cheese and accompanied with a cold Coke Clasic.

It’s during this meal that I notice a sign promoting an exhibition of an original copy of the Magna Carta in a nearby space. This piques my interest. I also noticed that this poster didn’t have any National Park logo or insignia. This was odd. Didn’t know whether or not to be concerned.

After the lunch I walked over toward the Liberty Bell Pavilion which was across the street from Independence Hall and got into the back of the line that led to the doors marked ‘Liberty Bell Entrance’.  Still outside the facility was a National Park Ranger in her tell-tale Smokey the Bear campaign hat. I was listening as people in line were asking her questions.

“you have to go on the other side of Independence Hall to get your tickets for the tour….the tickets are free but the tours are limited by size so we have to issue tickets that are timed….the full guided tour takes about an hour and covers the whole ground floor level….there aren’t any exhibits upstairs at this time.”

Someone asked about the Magna Carta exhibit thankfully. “The Magna Carta Exhibition is not part of the National Park Historical Area. It’s a private display and is in that building over there,” she points back to the building that was the site of my picnic. “There is a fee associated with that attraction.” She pointed out. 

The line creeped forward and we all moved one shuffle at a time towards the doors. More people got in the line, lots of families with small kids in tow. This should have been expected.

I get to the door and with little surprise that there I a long line inside also. In this little building was what appeared to be a 25 foot long corridor, maybe ten feet wide and the Great Bell was at the far end, surrounded by a jam packed crowd.  Booth walls of the corridor were images and a written history of the bell itself. When and where it was made. Its inscription is from the Bible Leviticus 25:10 “….and proclaim liberty throughout the land unto all the inhabitants there of; it shall be a jubilee unto you…”

There was another description of the famous crack and how it was originally repaired but that didn’t take and the repair cracked it even more. The description that I found most interesting was the one that told that the bell didn’t actually do anything but someone realized that it rang when they announced the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It rang when they announced the Treaty of Paris ending the Revolutionary war. It rang when they announced the Articles of Confederation. It rang when they announced the completion of the Constitution…So it was an eye witness to history. This is why it’s celebrated and venerated. 

It took maybe 15 minutes to get through the line, plenty of time to read all of the descriptions. There was also a photo gallery of National and World leaders standing beside the bell.  It took a good 20 minutes to go the 25 feet to the bell. Once there I find out it’s in a plexi-glass case. Behind the bell was a floor to ceiling glass wall that showcased Independence Hall across the street. Made an interesting back drop. By this time I was all belled out (maybe that makes me a ding dong?!) So I smartly left the pavilion and returned to the relatively fresh air and sunshine.

Remembering what the ranger was saying on the way in I made my way behind the Hall to find the tickets for the tour. This took some time to find the way around the back but with determination I did find it. There was a Park Ranger standing under a sign that read ‘Independence Hall Tickets’. So that’s where my feet take me. The lady who was in front of me asked the ranger, “Any suggestions for something to do nearby for an hour?”

“I suggest the Liberty Bell or Washington Square.” Then she moves off and it’s my turn.

“One please,” and he hands me a ticket. “Which way is Washington Square?”

“Two blocks that way,” and he points.

“Thank you,” then I head in that direction. Examining the ticket and my watch I had about 50 minutes to go there and get back here.

The only Washington Square in my memory was the one in Greenwich Village in New York with the triumphed Arch. We were just four blocks away from there on Friday come to think of it.

Crossing the street there are signs on the corners pointing to many local attractions. All you have to do is get into the right neighborhood and have a general idea of what you want to see. Yes, research like a guidebook will point you in the right directions and maybe even share with you tidbits that will be a big boost but if you have the chance and aren’t afraid to walk around some and are not bashful to ask questions you can make an adventure anyplace you may find yourself. Especially a place like this that’s a draw for out-of-towners. There is lots of infrastructure for the tourist trade.

There I find the Washington Square entrance. It was a quiet urban oasis with office towers on all sides, lots of old growth trees (maybe there were here when George Washington was?) and flower beds blooming in the summer sun. This place was half filled with office workers on their lunch breaks. Many emptying their brown bags. Some were eating those oddly shaped pretzels.

Just two blocks away from Independence Hall is Washington Square. It’s a two square block oasis of walkways and trees surrounded on all sides by office towers. There were quite a few of its residents in the square enjoying their lunch in the sunshine.

There were quite a few historical markers in the park but the most poignant one told of how this area was used as a prisoner of war camp during the British occupation of Philadelphia from September 1777 through June 1778 and how an estimated 150 American soldiers died and were interned in a mass grave that was now marked by an Eternal Flame. It’s known as The Unknown Soldier of the Revolution. The pleasantness of the fountain and the parks’ environs that were somewhat soothing was transformed once I knew about this place’s history and the presence of the final resting of so many heroes under our feet. Tried to walk around some to clear my head a bit but was struck by how in another two weeks I would be following in the footsteps of these honored warriors. Would I have the courage and fortitude that these guys had? Maybe this is too much to think about on a light and fun day. Don’t want my tourist day to be a bummer. So I bought myself a water ice from a push cart. It’s just like what we New Yorkers would call an Italian Ice. Took a seat overlooking the central fountain and watched the guys and gals in suits work their way back to their desks in the skyscrapers.

Got so lost in the scene that I almost lost track of the time and my appointment for the tour. Had to hustle my way back to the Hall. They were letting in the last of the crowd for the group fifteen minutes before my turn. So I ended up near the front of the line.  I started chit-chatting with others around. There were people from all over the country which was not unexpected. When I mentioned I was from New Jersey, someone asked, “Isn’t that right across the river from here?”

“Yes but I live just outside of New York City, about an hour and a half from here on the train.” Which was awkward to explain but it was nice to interact with them and people I would be with for the next hour and a half or so.

At one point the oddly tall door opened and a campaign hatted ranger came out. “One pm tour, One pm tour. Please gather around and have your tickets ready,” she said with a smile. After a moment or two she continued, “Welcome to Independence Hall. We’ll be starting the tour in just a few short moments….” She told us some basic things about staying together, take children by the hand, no smoking, hold all questions until the guide asks. She then pointed out different details about the outside of the “Old Penn State House” as it was originally known.

We then began to walk into the building. The first room was kind of small for a group of 40 but there was no furniture. It was dominated by a large painting. She went on to say that it was specially commissioned for this space for the Bicentennial of the finishing of the Constitution. She explained that it was a group portrait of the signing of the final document on September 17, 1787. The artist researched portraits of the signers and found all but one had one done during his lifetime. So what the artist did was to have the only unknown face learning over and with quill pen in hand in the actual act of adding his signature to the parchment. That was a clever idea because you wouldn’t be seeing his face at that moment anyway, while all of the others gathered around watching him.

The next room we went into was the hall where the Declaration of Independence, Articles of Confederation and Constitution were actually signed and was later used as the US House of Representatives Chamber during the time between the Capitol was in New York and when it moved to Washington DC. There were the actually tables and chairs that the delegates used (they didn’t match which struck me as odd). The guide pointed out where various people sat: John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, John Jay…etc. The Chair at the head of the room is where George Washington sat. It had the top half of the face of the sun on it.

“When the document was complete and the delegates of the Convention were signing, Ben Franklin went up to George Washington and said, “I’ve been sitting here all summer listening to all the debate and wondering if this was a rising sun or a setting sun but today I see that it’s a rising sun on all of our nation.” That stuck in my memory.

The next room we went into was more like an entrance hall. On one side was the front door and on the other was a stairway leading up. The ranger told us about the rest of the building here. How much history can happen in a hallway. She told us about guards being posted during times of deliberations because nobody wanted the press or public to know how uncivilized things were within the leadership of the young nation. The Constitutional Convention had actually been convened to iron out some wrinkles in the Articles of Confederation. Nobody planned on forming a national government, at least publicly. It seemed to be a general consensus that a totally new framework was needed. She also said that there were no restored rooms upstairs. In 1787 there was some storage and some rooms that functioned as committee rooms. 

The next room was used as the Senate Chamber while the government was here in Philadelphia prior to its move to DC in 1800.  It was set up as so with desks with inkwells and quill pens. The main topic of the lecture in here was how the Bill of Rights was hammered out over months of debate in 1798-1799.

The last part of the tour was in a separate building just beside the Hall.  This was the Supreme Court Chamber during the period. She explained how the justices worked and how there was not a lot of difference in the operations of the Court today.  In all, the tour took about 90 minutes. It seemed to go by very quickly with lots of interesting descriptions along the way. Another great thing was that it was free which is always nice.

Now it was 2:30 and I had done what I set out to do. Certainly wasn’t about to go home at this point. This is when a guide book would be handy or perhaps some preplanning or at least some clue about what to do next.

I worked my way around and thought about the Hula girls. Working my way toward the stage area this is when I found the entrance to the Magna Carta exhibit and was slowly drawn into its doors. After paying the $10 entrance fee I found myself in an exhibit with large displays explaining the situation King John found himself in during 1215, the feudal lords in his realm were revolting because the King had no legal constraints on his rule but he had absolute authority over them. The document itself was an agreement that imposed on the crown the same constraints on the legal process that the crown required of the lords in the feudal courts. It also granted a Charter of Liberties and some tenant rights. With this agreement, King John avoided revolution, kept his throne and his head!

Took maybe half an hour to wind my way through the displays and eventually to the parchment itself. It was in a sealed glass case with monitors that kept track of the temperature and humidity within.  For all the importance of it, it wasn’t very large. Maybe two feet long and one and a half feet wide. It was in Latin and all I could read was the date, June 1215. This document became the basis of the relationship between Government and citizens/subjects ever since. With all of the information that’s presented and the descriptions in the exhibit, the finale is kind of disappointing. Yes it’s very historic, important and rare but it’s smaller than the hype would lead you to expect.

Now I was on some side street with no direction to go in particular. So I just wandered to the end of the block. What did I find there but a costumed tour guide, in 1780’s garb, giving a walking tour. So I just got behind the last person and tagged along.

We got to the next corner and made a left and walked along a brick wall fence. The guide walked and talked until he came to a gate in the wall. 

“Here we find the grave of Ben Franklin and his long suffering wife…”  He went on for a bit talking about old Ben.  “…what many people do is toss a penny onto his grave for good luck. Why a penny? A penny saved is a penny earned.” That cause the audience to chuckle. 

People went digging into their pockets and purses for pennies and they chipped one onto his grave. Then continued on to make room for others. Once all the Wisconsin, or whereever families had finished, I was alone at the grave. It was covered with pennies, as one could imagine. I also tossed a penny and stood and stared for a moment, lost in time, with no particular thought. I came around and worked my way to the next corner that lead back to the lawn in front of Independence Hall. Marking a right and headed toward the stage. Trying to decide if I should wait around for the Hula girls or move on to something else. But what else?

Then the idea came to me. In the tourist shops they will have guide books and maps of the area! I would not have to buy one but would take a quick peek and find something. Hopefully something close and free. Sure enough I spot a souvenir shop by its tell-tale post card rack and $5 t-shirt signs. Making my way inside and zipping past the mementos and tchotchkes, there is a rack of tour books. I open up the first one I see but come to discover it’s in Spanish! Oops! I put it back and have to scan carefully to find one in English. I open up to the map, the main thing that sticks out is that the river is only a few blocks away. That’s as good enough place to go. I orientate myself and get my bearings. Then it’s off I go.

Walking east (at least I hope I’m walking east) I notice that the street numbers are going down. Eighth Street, Seventh Street….must conclude that the river will come after First Street. Next thing is going under a highway overpass that I later find out is Interstate 95. Then I come to the river. Across the Delaware is New Jersey again but far from my home, like 90 miles away but New Jersey none the less. Strolling along the promenade there is not a lot to see but it is cooler along the water with the breeze flow not interrupted by buildings. Maybe I should have looked harder at the guidebook to find a destination that was riverside. Didn’t see any tourists around here. Yet I continue south, no destination on the horizon. A few blocks on I come to a plaza but it’s a bit empty at present. Just a few parents and kids enjoying the riverside. Not much different than what I was doing.

Decided to make my way back to see the Hula girls after all. So I hustled my way there in plenty of time to catch the beginning of their act. The sign told of their hometown in Hawaii obviously. They did some numbers to different tunes but the dances all looked the same. Was hoping that maybe they would bring out the guys twirling flaming torches but was disappointed.

Now it’s 4:30 and the beginning of the rush hour. What to do? What to do? I being walking back to the mall mostly because I have no better ideas. It’s a short walk, just a few blocks so it doesn’t take up any time.

Consulting the mall directory there isn’t much in the way of stores that interest me. No book stores, no computer stores, no video stores. What’s a guy to do? So I make my way over toward the train station where there is not only a regional transit map but one for the city. I looked at the schedule and it looked as if I had just missed a train to Trenton but then I notice another train to West Trenton. So I go back to the map and check. That is a totally separate line, can’t transfer to the train back home to Metro Park from there. Good thing I doubled checked. The next R7 train to Trenton was in 45 minutes.

Then the thought of the Amtrak train comes to mind again. Back at the map I figure that I would have to take a subway from here to 30th Street Station in order to investigate further. The subway was also here in the mall and in fact ran right from here to there also.

In Philly the fare booth is right beside the turnstile so you can give the attendant cash and go right on in. It wasn’t hard to figure out. The price wasn’t as expensive as the New York subway which was good because I was only going about 20 blocks. The train came and wasn’t crowded at all. There were even seats available. Isn’t this the rush hour in the central business district? This struck me as odd. Maybe the rush hour wasn’t so much to be weary of here after all?!

After only a few stops we were there so I exit the train. ON the platform while I’m trying to figure which set of stairs to climb, I see that a streetcar/trolley is running right next to the subway tracks. Isn’t that curious? One thing they no longer have in New York is streetcars. Was tempted to ride on it very much so but maybe I had enough adventure for one day? A trip to 1787 was enough, don’t need to go back to the 1920s too. The trolley looked to be that old with its curved fronts. They even looked to be made of wood! That would have to wait until another trip. (Little did I know then it would be almost 30 years before I would take my first Philly trolley, what some signs call “Surface Subway” ride).

Next is to climb the stairs and look for the Amtrak signs. It’s a bit of twists and turns but they were all clearly marked. Only a few minutes from exiting the subway car I’m in the middle of the big ticket hall of 30th Street Station. Sort of reminded me of Penn Station in New York but in Penn Station the steps to the trains go down and here they go up.

Waiting in cue to ask about the cost of the ticket I keep one eye on the flip board that told of the next set of departing trains. There was many Amtrak trains leaving over the next hour. Some headed to New York, most of which would also be stopping at Metro Park. I could also see that the R7 line to Trenton was leaving in 25 minutes. Either way I was good and had lots of time.

Soon it was my turn at the ticket window. “How much is a one way to Metro Park, please?”

The agent punches some numbers into his terminal. “$20,” he said coldly. This struck me as quite high, especially being that I already paid tickets in my pocket. So I passed. I should have asked how long the trip would have been. Maybe an hour or so. So I walked away from the booth and found the men’s room. From there I went to a newsstand and peeked at the magazines before buying a classic Coke and a candy bar.

Next was to find the steps to the correct platform but that wasn’t so hard, everything is so very well lit and there were lots of signs. Up on the platform there was even seats to wait on. There was no reason to fear the rush hour crush, it just wasn’t to be found this day on the transit system.

The train came with no delay and a clear announcement. Climbing on board was uneventful and there were plenty of seats. This whole concern was for nothing. In less than two minutes we are underway and I am relaxing, looking out the window. At one point I notice that we even passed the zoo. Still took about an hour to cross the Delaware River and into the Trenton Station but this time I had to climb the stairs to get to the platform for the train home. Gave me the chance to visit the bathroom and peek at the rest of the station, which was not very large at all. There was a map that showed the local area. The state capitol complex was about a mile away, wasn’t about to take that excursion. Only had 15 minutes before the next train departed.

Going down onto the platform only to find the train was there waiting idle with the doors closed. There were maybe 50 people waiting to board. Most were in suits or other business attire, headed home after a day in the office was my guess.

Before more people began coming, the doors opened. There were plenty of seats for everyone. The conductor came and was checking tickets. I handed him the last of the four I got this morning, completing the cycle. Not much later we were on our way, Northeast toward home. 

My next thought….what to do once I got to Metro Park Station? Mike didn’t live too far from there. Maybe I’d call him once I got there to see what he was up to? If he was free maybe I’d go over there and share the story of the trip….

Princeton Junction, Jersey Avenue, New Brunswick, Edison, Metuchen….the stations go by one by one. So it took two plus hours to get home. I saved $20, that’s something! 

Pulling into Metro Park and it’s just after 7:00 pm. There is a crowd of people flowing by who just got off a train from New York. I may have been the only one exiting the NYC bound train. A stop by a payphone and a call to Mike’s house got me a busy signal. Probably his brothers were on the phone. Deciding to go right home and get something to eat, I jump into a taxi for the 15 minute ride.

Entering the house and surprising my Mom, I tell her all about the trip while rummaging through the fridge and cupboards for food. She was quite surprised that I did so much with zero planning and research, just an idea to go to Philadelphia in addition to the fact that I did this alone.

True: I would have done more with some planning and maybe I would have had a better time if there was someone to share the experience with but there is no denying that a good time was had and a lack of companionship hadn’t hampered my determination to do what the plan had originally called for.  Maybe it was for a sense that time was running out before my entry into the Army and there was no telling what the next three years held in store or what would happen beyond that. Perhaps also the perception I got at the mass grave at Washington Square awoke some bit of awareness of what my mind should be thinking of when the terms like, “the honor and duty of a soldier” are mentioned.  As the night went on, these reflections kept stirring within my head. This had been a big day on a great number of levels, a lot more than just checking off something on a wish list. 

I went to sleep with a greater sense of pride than I woke up with that morning.

The first three days of July were rainy as was predicted by the TV weather folks. I didn’t’ really do a lot. Mike came over one day and we played our favorite game on my Commodore 64 computer, “Project: Space Station”. In this game you had to plan a space station by buying all of the parts. Next you had to fly the parts up on the Space Shuttle. Then hire staff to operate it and choose what experiments to run. You made money by launching satellites and achieving breakthroughs in your experiments. Rather complicated and took a great deal of time. Our next favorite game was Ghostbusters.

The next event on the calendar was the trip to Seaside Heights on Saturday, July 4th, with the teens from St. Andrews Catholic Church, maybe a mile or so from my mom’s. I’d never been inside the church but each summer they hosted a large carnival over a weekend. I saw a sign in front of the church one day advertising the teen Seaside bus trip to see the fireworks on Independence Day. I didn’t think of it then but should have gotten two tickets so there would at least be someone I knew going with me but by the time I figured that out and called them back a few days later, they were sold out.

Maybe there was someone I knew on the trip? After going to Philly on my own on Tuesday, this wasn’t much of a concern any longer. Now my thoughts were turning to “maybe I could meet a girl”. One that was in the neighborhood that I could spend some time with over these next two weeks. The last few days before leaving for the Army on the 14th. Wouldn’t that be great?!

The more thoughts turned to a girl, the more money I would be thinking I would be needing. Originally the plan was to bring $50 but by the big day that went up to $150. My thinking was that my potential new lady friend would want to eat and get some sodas and ice cream throughout the hot day. Maybe she’d want to play some games on the boardwalk or go for a ride or two on the amusement piers. In my imagination we were riding together on the sky ride that rode over the beach parallel to the boardwalk. The more the thoughts of this lady friend came into my head the more excited I was for noon on Saturday to come, when the bus was scheduled to leave the church parking lot.

Finally Saturday came and I actually left the house at 11:00 am to walk to the church. I had eventually settled on wearing a pair of what was then referred to as “surfer shorts”, what would later be known as “board shorts”. These were gray and almost went down to my knee. I was relatively certain that I wouldn’t be swimming in the ocean, mainly because there would be no place to stash my wallet and cigarettes and stuff. So there was no need to bring a towel. I did wear a Yankees T-shirt that was fairly new. I almost wore a homemade tie-dye shirt that I made back in the shelter in May. I also wore my Chuck Taylor canvas Converse sneakers. That was kind of in style in the fringes of the Rock and Roll scene at the time. These were the only “in” thing in my wardrobe. Mainly because they cost less than $20! Also had some cheap sunglasses because I always seem to scratch, break or lose the damn things.

Set out confidently on my hike up hill to the church parking lot. The day promised to be sunny and hot and that started early. Maybe a dark navy blue shirt wasn’t the smartest idea? About ¾ of the way there I stopped into the air conditioned Cumberland Farms convenience store for a break and a cold Classic Coke. Stood for a few moments in front of the open cooler to knock down my temperature a notch or two. Don’t want to show up all hot, sweaty and frazzled before the trip even began!

The Avenel train station was only a ‘part time’ station. Weekdays only 5 or so trains stopped there on their way to New York. None on the weekends. I would never even check on trains going there because they were too infrequent. From the store my path took me under the train station and three more blocks to the church. Turning the corner from Avenel Street and rounding the church I saw a school bus waiting. The first thing that popped into my head was ‘no air conditioning’! This wasn’t a pleasant thought. Nothing could be done about it now. Approaching the bus, there was a few teens standing around. It was still half an hour before we were to depart, so all was good.

What does a ‘sold out’ school bus look like? How many people would that be? How many would be girls? Maybe I was overthinking this. Tried to shake any jitters and put on a confident smile.

I did in the last ten days graduate high school, have an amazing New York day and night adventure and did a solo trip into the unknown of Philly and in another ten days would be leaving for the Army. I could do this! The last few yards turned from a stroll into a strut. There was an older woman with a clipboard, it was my guess that she was in charge.

“Hi,” I said and handed over my ticket. “Is this the trip to Seaside?”

Her name tag said Sister Marie. “Yes, welcome. Your name is?”  I gave it to her and she checked me off her roll.

“You can use the restroom in the school if you need to, we’ll be leaving soon.” I thanked her and went inside the Catholic grammar school, passing by the group of my fellow travelers. Nobody I knew. Not surprising. With this group there was two things I noticed: One, was of the seven there were four girls. If the rest of the troop had the same female to male ratio, I’d be good. Two they each had beach towels over their shoulders and had flip flops on. Maybe I made an error here…

Entering the school there were maybe a dozen others waiting in there. I don’t know why, there was no AC in there. Trying to be subtle but there were also more girls than guys here. That was good. The bathroom was found and used. Soon I was back outside but ducking in the shade.

Cars started to come up. Moms dropping off their kids was the observation. Maybe these kids would be quite young? What if the next person in age after Sister Marie was me? This hadn’t cross my mind until now. Some clicks were forming and I stepped away to have a last smoke before the minimum 90 minute bus ride. That’s when she found me.

“Hey, I know you…maybe. Didn’t you go to Woodbridge High?”

I turned to her, didn’t recognize here but at least this was a start. “Uh…yeah but we moved and I transferred to JFK.” I didn’t go into the sordid details of how I ended up in the shelter.

“Ok. I thought I knew you. Are you going to be a senior now?”

“No, I graduated last week.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” she said and plucked my cigarette from my fingers and took a drag of it herself. “Why are you coming with us today?”

“I was looking to take a shore trip…” Wasn’t sure how much to divulge about my to do list. “…and was passing by a few weeks ago…and saw the sign…and here I am.”

“Ok, cool,” she took another drag from my smoke before handing it back. “You still don’t remember me do you?”

“Ahh, nope. You got me”

“I’m Tracy. You used to know Helen from Seawaren?”

“Yeah, she used to go out with my best friend.”

“Yeah, I live next to her. I’m gonna be a junior this year.” Which is funny to hear because ‘last year’ was only a few days ago. “So when you were going to Woodbridge, you and Helen were juniors and I was a freshman.”

“Ok, that makes sense now,” not that I remembered her but still it brought some context. We hear the diesel bus start its motor. It must be close to departure time.

“Hey, listen,” she says and steps close to me as if to whisper even though there’s not another person within 30 feet of us. “Do you think you could get us some beers down there?”

“Maybe. I could try. I’m only 18. Don’t have a fake ID or anything.”

“Have you ever tried before?”

“Not in Jersey, only in the city. They don’t care there as long as you have cash.”

“Cool, it’s gonna be a great night!” and she give me a smile.

I offer her another drag from my smoke, which she takes. 

“Who else will be on this trip?”

“Mostly us from the church youth group. Kind of surprised to see you here. You don’t go to St. Andrews do you?”

“No, but I live in Ideal, just down the road.”

“Oh, my friend, Stacy lives in Ideal. She’ll be here.” Then she puts out the smoke by stepping on it. “Don’t let Sister Marie see you smoking, she’ll give you a lecture about the body is the temple of the Holy Spirit and what not. Heard it God knows how many times.” She the pivots and motions for me to join her. “Let’s get this party started!”

Although she doesn’t have a towel I can see the know securing her bathing suit at the back of her neck poking up from beneath her t-shirt. A peek down reveals jean cut offs and sneakers with no socks.

“Is everyone planning on going into the ocean?”

“I wasn’t but it’s the shore and everyone will be in their swim suits.”

“Oh….I didn’t bring a towel or anything.”

“You can’t even go on the beach until 6:00 anyway without paying. Then it’s free but they’ll be no lifeguards on duty.” She says while we walk to the bus. “So we’ll be staking out a spot on the sand as a home base while waiting for the fireworks.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what we did last year.”

The whole group is now gathered at the bus door, anxious to get going already. Sister Marie was on the first step facing us, clipboard in hand. “I’m gonna check everyone off as they get on so go slowly please.”

She stepped down and stood to one side. People called off their names as they climbed aboard. Tracy elbowed me and said, “You should stick with us.” Whether she was interested in me or the possibility of cigarettes and beer didn’t matter. I was tickled just to be included in a group. Especially one that was hopefully girl loaded. Another peek around the whole bunch of us brought me to the sum of a ratio of about three girls for every two guys. I was liking these odds.

Once on the bus, got a seat and Tracy grabbed a girl and sat her next to me and took the seat in front of us, kneeled on it and said, “Stacy, this is Charlie. He’s 18 and lives in Ideal too.” I smiled and reached out my hand, she took it and we shook.

“Oh cool. Where do you live?” She asked.

“22 B Street. Right across the street from the laundry room.”

“Oh, I’m there every week, Thursday, even on Thanksgiving. Ugh, what a pain in the ass that is!”

“Being across from there has advantages. Especially when ordering pizza!”

This made her laugh. “How long have you been there?”

This made me become super cautious, didn’t even think about how much to spill out of my story. But as luck would have it Sister Marie bought me some time.

“Before we do anything, we shall pray.” Everybody shut up as the nun in a t-shirt led us in prayer. She began with the standard Catholic tradition of blessing yourself. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost…” She went on for a bit, her audience was a bit restless but that didn’t seem to faze her a bit. But everybody joined in on the ‘Amen’.

“Let’s all stay seated. Keep your heads and hands and arms…and legs. That was especially for Jimmy,” which gave everyone a chuckle. Everyone but me that is, I wasn’t in on the joke. “I’ll have more to say when we get close.” She sat down on the front seat near the door and shouted, “Let’s go,” as the driver steps on the gas and his passengers let out a cheer.

The bus’s diesel motor is loud and all of the windows are down. Between the breeze rushing past and the road noises it’s kind of loud on the ride. St. Andrews Church is only a few blocks from Route 129, that we take south until the split, where we take the US Route 9 fork. That takes us to the Garden State Parkway south. All in the first ten minutes of the trip. The old bus’s motor was screaming while trying to climb the Raritan River Bridge, even if it was only 35 miles per hour. She made it over the hump. Probably helped by the will power of a bus load of eager teens.

“So, did you go to JFK?” Stacy asks bringing me back to myself.

“Not really. I mean I went there for only a couple of weeks,” Now my mind had to think quick, “…but my mom got sick. Then I got a chance to go to a small boarding school in Bridgewater. Finished up my senior year there but because my mom works for the township, she got them to let me get my diploma and graduate from JFK.”

“Boarding school? What are you rich or something?”

“No way. If I was rich would we be living in Ideal?”

“No, guess not. Is boarding school anything like it is on ‘The Facts of Life’?”

“Not where I was and it was co-ed.”

“That’s cool, kinda. Couldn’t imagine going to school and living in the same place, seeing the same people every day.”

“Beats having to wait at a bus stop in February.” This makes her laugh.

“Do you go to JFK?”

“No, my mom makes me go to Union Catholic. It sucks there.”

“How can you go to Union Catholic when you live in Middlesex County?”

“They don’t care where you live as long as the check clears.”

“Ah, now I get it.”

“What ya doing now that you graduated?”

“I’m leaving for the Army in two weeks.”

“No fucking way!” she gasps, which gets the attention of many of our neighbors, even with the noise of the highway outside the open windows.

“Yeah, way,” and I pull my wallet out and show her my ID card. “I’m leaving a week from Wednesday.”

Stacy looks at the ID and shows it to Tracy whose back kneeling on her seat with her elbows on its back leaning over towards us. Next she looks at my driver’s license. 

“You turned 18 just last week?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just drive your car to the shore?”

“Don’t own a car,” I admit.

“Are you going to get one?”

“Not soon. I’m leaving for the Army in less than two weeks.”

“Can’t you have a car in the Army?”

“You can but what if they send me to Korea or someplace like that?”

“You’re going to Korea?”

“I don’t know. Won’t know until November.”

“November? What happened to two weeks from now?”

“First I’m going to basic training in Missouri for eight weeks. Then I’m going to Virginia for another eight weeks of training. Then I’ll find out where I’ll spend the next three years.”

“Three years….maybe in Korea?”

“Maybe. I put in to go to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn or Fort Monmouth here in Jersey but the Army sends you where they need you.”

“Korea is a long way from Brooklyn,” she laughs.

“Yeah but what can I do. I already signed up.”

“The Army thing is very cool but Korea….that’s just nuts.”

“There is Army all over the world. Could go to Hawaii. Could go to Israel. Could go to Europe.”

“Do you get to shoot a gun?”

“Everyone in the Army has to qualify with a rifle every six months. What good is a soldier who can’t shoot and salute?” This brings out another chuckle.

I’m so engrossed in the conversation, lost track of where we were. A peek out the window shows that we’re passing the exit for the Garden State Arts Center. 

“Oh, I’m coming here on Tuesday!” as I excitedly point to the road sign.

“To a concert? Who ya gonna see?”

“Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers…and the Georgia Satellites.”

“Why ya going to see them?”

“A few months ago a friend suggested that I make a list of things I want to do before I left for the Army. A concert was one of those things.”

“That make sense but why them?”

“I was thinking that if I was going to the Garden State Arts Center I wanted to see a show from a seat not the grass.” The lawn at the Garden State Arts Center was a lot smaller than the BB&T in Camden.

“Yeah, the grass sucks. Went there last year to see Duran Duran, sat on the lawn. It’s all crowded. I said never again.”

“Exactly. Been in the seats and the lawn before. The seats are 10,000 times better. All the shows I really wanted to see were either sold out or in August.”

“And you will be gone by then.”

“Exactly, so this was the best of what was left.”

“Do you have an extra ticket?” she asked hopefully.

“Maybe, my friend, Mike was going to come but he may have family things to do.” I had to think fast, didn’t want to tell her my 19 year old college student best friend’s mom may not want him to go.

“I’d go with you….ya know…if you…had an extra ticket.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” and I gave her a smile.

“What else is on your list?”

“Well, went to a Mets game. Had an all day, all night adventure in New York last weekend. Went to Philly on Tuesday. Today is Seaside and Tuesday in the concert. I’m having so much fun and still got next weekend wide open for something.”

“Wow, my mom never lets me go to New York. I hate it.” Tracy said, still part of the dialog, still leaning over the back of the seat in front of me. Now her seat-mate was also listening in.

“What did you do in New York?”

“We walked around Times Square. Then the afternoon in Central Park. Then we went to the Laser Show and we went at midnight to the Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“That’s cool. Wish I would have known. Heard amazing things about the Laser show. Always wanted to see Rocky Horror. What time did you get home?”

“Like about 2:30 in the morning.”

“Sneaking into New York is one thing but she’d go nuts if I was out till 2:30.”

“They have Rocky Horror in Jersey too. In the Middlesex Mall.”

“Where’s that?” someone asks.

“It’s in Piscataway, just off 287.”

“Yeah but it’s still midnight, that means it ends at like 1:30 in the morning. Then ya gotta get home.”

“It’s not the impossible dream. It’s very doable.” This was met with an equal number of derisive grunts as hopeful ‘hamm’s’ from those now listening in, which was unexpected. I swung my head in a swivel to see how many were listening in, maybe six or seven or so.

“Well, I still got one more weekend after this...no plans or anything....yet.” As I give a friendly elbow to my seat mate, who gives me a little smile.

The traffic was thick as we inched our way South on the Parkway. It’s only about 60 miles on the Parkway to our exit but at noon on the fourth of July, looked like everyone had the same idea.  After a couple of rainy days, everyone wanted a sea, sand and sun Saturday Holiday. The cooling breeze of the slipstream outside the bus’s windows went way down as we were cruising at a mere 25 miles per hour, which added to the collective anxiousness and frustration.

I was doing okay though, being the center of attention of the group of girls. They were interested in both my current adventure and my future one in the Army. I was secretly relieved that no one asked about my mom’s illness or my ‘boarding school’ story. As far as I was concerned, school was over with. People often talked about going to college or using the ‘GI Bill’ but I was just so happy that I snuck through the cracks in the system, my fear was now if I went to college, although I never took the entrance exam, they may figure out I never should have graduated in the first place. So, my educational plan was to lay low as far as school was concerned.

The girls were all still in high school and knew each other from the church community. It only registered about 1% on the guilt meter that I was with the church group picking up girls. Very few 18 year old’s have moral conscience. Especially for someone like myself who was from an ‘unsteady home environment.’  Some people said “you’re so selfless, joining the Army to defend the country,” but for me it was an easy way out. Don’t have to worry about having a job, place to live or even food and clothing for the next three years.

Stacy and Tracy and company were slightly flirty, whether or not they liked me or the thoughts of cigarettes and/or beer they were more interested in was beyond my cares at this point.

After what felt like eons, we pull off the Parkway and join the line of slowly crawling cars in the parade to the shore line. Eventually we cross the bridge onto the barrier islands, that was when Sister Marie stands up.

“The fireworks are scheduled for 9:30 and they will go for 25-30 minutes. We are going to meet in front of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church.” She gave us the address. “And want to be on the road by 10:30. Soon as the fireworks are over, head there right away.” She told us that the church was three blocks from the boardwalk and what streets would take us there. Of course, I didn’t have a pen on me, how many people bring a pen to the shore? A peek around showed none of my new lady friends carried a purse. Trusting my memory had let me down before but how hard would it be to remember Our Lady of Perpetual Help?

Stacy was stirring like she had ants in her pants. My guess is that everyone was excited. A glance at my watch showed it was creeping close to 2:00. One a normal day, in a regular car, it should take a bit more than an hour to get here. Today it took us two.

I lean in to whisper to Stacy, “what do you want to do first?”

“Find a bathroom, then ice cream,” she said confidently.

“Two good ideas,” I replied. “If you want, I’ll treat you to an ice cream.”

“Ok...can’t go down the shore without having soft serve vanilla cone, don’t know what it is about it. Even on a day like today, where half of it will be melted all over my hand, just gotta have it, with rainbow sprinkles,” she said with a grin.

This I thought was cute. “You got it. It’ll be easier to find the ice cream than a bathroom.”

“Ugh! Don’t say stuff like that. It’s bad luck.”

“Oh-Kay,” and I smirk.

The bus pulls off the slow parade on the main drag onto the side road. Then we make a right and I notice the street sign, Carteret Street. Oh, I think to myself, Carteret Street, I know is the northern end of the boardwalk. All concessions and amusements are south of there. Then we make another right and go south a block and a half and stop in front of the church.

“Ok, here we are. If anyone needs me, I’ll be here most of the day,” Sister Marie says. “Please come straight here after the fireworks end.” Then the doors open and a mad rush makes for the exit. Wouldn’t have been surprised if some kids were jumping out of the window at this point. Everyone was very ready to get going. I let the feisty hoard pass before even standing up. Was trying to display ‘cool’ which wasn’t easy.

Once we hit the pavement, Stacy and Tracy and some others head into the open doors of the church, presumably to find a lady’s room. My mind was now at ease. Wouldn’t be left behind now. I’d just walk north on the boardwalk tonight, easy to find north, just keep the ocean to my right. If I get to Carteret Street, I’ve gone two blocks too far. Gotta go west three blocks, then south one and a half. One less thing to sweat about. I would remember Carteret because it is the town just east of Avenel.

Of the 35 or so from the bus, most ran towards the beach within moments of the doors opening. I do also go inside to use the bathroom. It was the smallest Catholic Church I’ve ever been inside of. Reminded me of the church in the TV show “Little House on the Prairie”. The potty line was obvious and poised myself at the end. Within ten minutes of us stopping we were all done.

Found myself walking with Tracy, Stacy and their two friends, Karen and Julie. Only Julie had a towel but all had the telltale knot at the back of their necks, indicating bathing suits under their t-shirts and cut offs. It seemed to be the uniform of the day. I was most definitely the oldest of those on the trip. But it didn’t faze me much. Soon as we were out of sight of Sister Marie, I pulled out the smokes and offered my new friends some and we puffed all the way to the boardwalk.

After climbing onto the boards, the full view of the beach came into focus. It was packed! Body to body as far as the eye could see. Couldn’t catch a glimpse of a single grain of sand through the throng of people. There are only eight million people in New Jersey, where they all here today? What a zoo? Couldn’t even smell the salty air through the cloud of sunblock. It was that bad. As my head was screaming, ‘this is a big mistake,’ Stacy grabs my arm and pulls me, “We’re still getting soft serve, right?”

My mind returns to itself and a smile returns to my face. “Yep, with rainbow sprinkles.” It’s a few blocks to the first concessions but even from here we can see a giat cone sign in the first batch of stands. Was not so secretly hoping that she would have held onto my arm or maybe even my hand but that didn’t happen. But was hopeful that the next eight hours might change this. 

The size of the crowd was still overwhelming but I was changing my focus to the five of us. There was a lot to see and do today and time was limited. Budget was limited. Hopes were still high that this was going to be a good day.

We work our way down the boards and find the end of the line for the ice cream. It wasn’t as long as I had expected. I ended up buying all four girls’ cones. Couldn’t figure out a graceful way to say no. I was just very happy to be accepted into a group and of all girls no less. Today was my lucky day. My fear is that their acceptance would only go as far as my money did. 

“Where do you work?” one asked me.

“I worked in a day care center all year,” I said, “but my last day was June 19th.”

“Why is that?”

“I moved back in with my mom in Ideal the next day. Couldn’t go back to Bridgewater every day. Besides I would be leaving anyway to go into the Army in another few weeks.” My hand was covered in chocolate drippings. We slowly licked and worked our way down the boards with the great crowds. At one point there was a thermometer that read 90 degrees. We all gobble down our cool treats, couldn’t quite call them frozen after the first minute at least, till we got down to the cone itself. But that ended up getting consumed quickly also. In a few more steps Julie spots a line for a public water foundation. We all get on the cue to rinse off our hands. After letting the girls go first, I go and drink some also. The taste of rusty water replaces the chocolate flavor. This isn’t pleasant at all. My hands were clean and my mouth was dirty. It just about negated the tastiness of the treat.

The girls were looking at the prices of the beach passes. Living most of my life in New Jersey, I just assumed that paying to get onto a public beach was the norm. Wasn’t until years later that I learned that New Jersey is the exception. Don’t remember the exact price but it seemed exorbitant for only a few hours. If we waited until 6:00, the lifeguards would go off duty and so would the toll takers and the beach would be free. I’m sure there was plenty of things to occupy us over the next three and a half hours or so.

The five of us were standing in a circle, just sort of looking at each other. I didn’t know what they wanted to do or even if they did, would they want to include me. After a few moments of awkward, silence I made a motion. “I was thinking of walking down the whole boardwalk and see how far it goes and check out all the different things.” Don’t know where this idea came from but nobody was saying anything else. “Who wants to take a long walk on a long pier?”

The girls looked at each other silently trying to come to a consensus, as if they shared a brain. “Ok,” Tracy said, “let’s walk and see what happens.” The others thought this was a brilliant act of deduction and smiled and giggled. This only served to remind me that these girls were about fifteen years old. Had to keep this in mind.

So we begin walking south, the ocean to our left. We pop into just about every t-shirt sho9p we pass along the way. I come to the conclusion that 90% of their stock is exactly the same. There are lots of shirts with band on them. Bon Jovi on most. Many metal/hair bands that were quite popular at the time. Shirts that said “Official Seaside Lifeguard”, “Official Bikini Inspector”, “Official Tan-line Tester”. My guess is that the only thing you needed to be ‘official’ anything was a $10 t-shirt.

When we got to a video arcade I said, “oh, let’s go in!”

Then I pointed to a sign that read ‘air conditioned’. They ran in before I did! The arcade was somewhat large but most of its floor space was taken up by ski-ball and the crane style games of (fat) chance, that no one ever seems to win and if they do, they end up with some cheap trinket. I wander around enjoying the AC. Played a game or two, each of which cost two quarters. After about ten minutes the girls find me.

“Alf, we gotta win an Alf doll,” Stacy says. Alf was a silly TV show that featured a puppet who was supposed to be a space alien who was stuck on Earth, hiding out with a suburban family. I didn’t watch it but I guess enough people did, so that the stuffed fuzzy Alf dolls were an “IN” thing.

“Oh, how do we win one?”

“We saw a spinny-wheely game on the boardwalk next door.”

“Let’s give it a shot.” I smile trying to match their enthusiasm and we head out the door.

This game of chance involves a large round face, sort of like a clock, but there is only one hand on it. This spins around and around, the point of this hand has a flexible metal end sticking out of its end. This comes in contact with nail like bits on the clock’s face. Sometimes these are call ‘the wheel of fortune’ being similar to the TV Game show of the same name. But these are more like ‘the wheel of mis-fortune' from 30 feet away you can see three areas on the wheel. Your brain sees these three areas and your brain thinks ‘oh, my odds of winning are one in three,’ then you see the three foot tall, Alf dolls and move in closer. At 20 feet you begin to notice the smaller divisions on the wheel. Now you think your odds are one in twelve, still not so bad and your heart is set to walk away with a big stuffed animal. At five feet you can see clearly that there are even more divisions on the wheel. Now your odds are one in 36. Then you get right up to the booth and you see the sign, in small print ‘1 win = small, 10 small = 1 medium, 10 medium = 1 large, 10=large = 1 jumbo and you see the keychain sized Alf dolls. You have to win 1,000 times to walk away with the toddler sized doll, that was probably made in a prison labor factory in Taiwan or someplace. It’s not even a game of skill that you can develop, like the basket shooting game.

Only cause the girls are excited, I pull out a $10 bill determined that this is all I’m gonna spend on this. I know I’m not going to woo any girls by being a cheap skate. The clerk gladly takes my money and give me a roll of quarters. This I break open, giving bunches to my new friends. We place our wagers onto the board flush with the edge of the booth. One quarter per spot. Each spot representing a section of the clock’s face but there is only one chair and 36 asses are trying to land in it. With each of us covering several spots in each spin our odds are slightly better. In fact, we win the first two times we played. The girls jump up and down and scream as if they won the Lotto. They hug each other as if they haven’t seen each other in years. We lose the next few spins before getting a third keychain. We each end up digging into our pockets for loose quarters in order to win the fourth.

“But you gotta win one too!”, they said.

“No, that’s ok. Maybe later.” Then they come give me a group celebratory hug, which I like a lot more than any silly keychain. This gives me hope of more ‘close contact’ to come as the day progresses.

Getting laid wasn’t on my to do list but as a horny 18 year old it was never far from my mind. Being in the shelter there was never a shortage of girls whom considered having a guy a mark of achievement, almost like a status symbol. Maybe it was a coping thing with them. ‘No matter what’s going on in my life, I can still get a guy’ mentality. Guys generally don’t think like that, at least not me or anyone I knew. We were mostly looking for what’s the shortest possible route to getting laid?

Another road block to this goal in the shelter was that there was never any ‘alone time’. You and your girl couldn’t get away from the house, its staff or your fellow residents. My most recent ‘encounter’ was with a fellow resident, who gave me my first true blow job. We were in the 15 seater van. The two staff members were in the front seats talking to each other, paying no attention to their charges behind them. Most of whom were dozing off. We were cruising down I287 on our way to see a WWII submarine that had been turned into a museum someplace near Hackensack. She had been flirting with me over the previous few days. I had even gotten a kiss and grabbed her butt, which she seemed to enjoy even more than I did.

Then we were on this trip. There was someone laying down taking up the entire back bench seat. We were in the next to the back row, there were four or five other residents in the two rows in front of us and the two staff in the driver and passenger seats. I was sitting up, leaning against the driver’s side window. She was laying down, face up with her head in my lap. She was letting me feel her up and put my hand into her shirt, that she even unbuttoned for me. She felt my growing erection on the back of her head and smiled. She even reached behind her head and began kneading it through my jeans. Then without any advanced warning turned herself over, opened my pants and started sucking away. This was way beyond anything I was even wishing for.

Keeping one eye on everyone in the van and one eye on her head bobbing up and down, I couldn’t believe she was doing this and sure she wasn’t going to ‘finish’ the work she started but she didn’t stop. Just tried to relax the best I could under the circumstances. After a while when I was about to blow my load, I leaned forward and whispered in her ear that it was almost time. Instead of backing away, she got into it with more vigor. Even once I came into her mouth, she kept going for a few more minutes until I saw us pulling off the highway and I told her she needed to stop.

Later she told me that the only reason she kept going is that I didn’t grab her head like guys seem to do. She was gone from the shelter a few days later which was just as well cause who knows what kind of trouble we would have gotten into otherwise.

But that was April or so, now it was July 4th. Could there be any possibility of ‘action’ with any of these new lady friends? Did any have any interest in me? Was there any more attraction toward one of the four in particular? Tracy seemed to be the ‘bad ass’ leader of the group but she did place Stacy in the seat beside me on the bus. Was hoping to be more tuned into real flirting on their end.

How much of there ‘Devil may care’ attitude was real and carried over into other areas of their life? Tracy did take my cigarette out of my hand to smoke it and asked about the possibility of getting beer. They were interested in my upcoming Army adventure, weapons training, Korea and such.

We head down the boardwalk further, each girl helping their friends attach their new Alf keychain onto their belt loops on their cut off jeans. When we get to the first amusement pier we make a left. These piers jut out over the beach and the ocean and are populated b carnival style rides and even a small rollercoaster. There are also game of Fat chance and eateries and souvenir shops. 

We come to a ‘Test your strength’ game. In the old fashion style of taking a sledgehammer and hitting a teeter totter that sends a projectile up a giant thermometer like board with the goal of making the projectile hit a bell at the top. 

“Oh you gotta do this!” I’m told as I’m being dragged to the back of the line.

“Three tries for $5” the sign says. Then I hear the attendant give instructions to the current contestant. “Its about geometry, that’s more important than speed.” The contestant is a 30-something guy in a tank top that is showing off his developed chest and arms. Judging just by his looks I figure he’s a sure winner.

He grabs the rubber headed sledgehammer and takes a wide stance, lines up his blow just like a golfer would his swing. “Go Daddy Go,” a tyke says off to his right, which causes him to smile but doesn’t take his eyes off the task at hand.

Up comes the big mallet and he pauses. In a dramatic fashion it comes slamming down, landing right on target, that causes the lever to pivot on its fulcrum that in turn sends up the projectile toward the bell. It doesn’t quite make it all the way. It’s shot into the ‘He-man’ zone that’s marked on the 90th percentile of the thermometer. To the ‘ohs’ and ‘ahas’ of the assembled crowd. The projectile comes down onto the lever with a thud. The contestant then lifts the hammer again for the next attempt. Again he gives it a mighty swing, the projectile shoots way up, going off the scale but the bell doesn’t ring. First thing that entered my head was ‘this thing must be broken’ but before anyone could open their question, the attendant says, “two inches short.” The big guy’s face turns from disappointment to anger. He snorts and plants his feet firmly, like a baseball batter getting set in the box.

“It’s not all about force,” the attendant says, “It’s about momentum and geometry, use the lever more and the hammer less.”

The contestant pays no attention, his focus is on his hammer’s target. It’s almost written on his face and in his stance. His mind is picturing the sledge going through the decking of the platform, even through the boards of the pier and into the salt water below. Up comes his arms, then down goes the swing. Up goes the projectile like a rocket and he is rewarded with a loud ‘Ding’. To the cheers of his family, the attendant then gives him a large felt Cat in the Hat red and white striped top hat to cement his victory. He beams as he puts the ridiculous thing on and struts towards his family. Hard to be proud and goofy at the same time.

The next guy comes up and hands over his $5. The attendant gives him the hammer. This man is not as well built and may be in his 50’s. He swings and makes the bell ring two times. His swing is a lot different. Instead of going straight down as hard as he could, he gives it a glancing blow. That’s when the idea strikes me. When it’s hit on an angle, the outside of the lever moves two inches, on down and one towards the front, in the same moment which gets transferred through the other side of the see-saw into two inches up in the same moment.  Increasing the velocity of the projectile as it rises in altitude at a greater rate than when the hammer comes straight down. This is what the guy meant by angle, momentum and geometry. This is making some sense now.

The older guy exits the platform with a satisfied smirk and a silly hat. Then it was my turn.

“So it’s like using two levers and you use them in tandem instead of in opposition to each other?” I ask. “Correct”, he says as he takes my money and hands me the hammer.

“Let me guess you’re a physics college student with a summer job?”

“Real close, engineering”, he smiles.

“Rutgers?” I ask.

“No, Penn.”

“Go Quakers” I say thankful that their sports mascot popped into my head real fast. I take the hammer and try to copy the moves of my predecessor. Up comes the rubber headed sledge. To my back I can hear my own cheerleading section, my four new friends.

Slam goes the first blow. My focus is down and I’m not quick enough with my neck to see how far the projectile shot up but there was no ringing. Swing number two is about the same. But behind me I hear ‘aww’ and ‘so close’. These encouragements turn my disappointment into motivation. Screw the silly hat, I want the adoration of my lady friends. The third swing gets everything I got. Motions of my arms, shoulders, back and even my legs. Pledging to put the hammer through the floor if need be. This time the silly bell rings and my private cheerleaders jump up and down, very excitedly, even more so than I am.

The clerk hands me my prize as I return his mallet. Yea, I’m proud of this silly reward. Would be hard pressed not to be. Working my way to the exit I find four sets of arms spread out towards me, each rooted in an excited girl. This is better than any damn felt hat. Well worth the price of admission. Reminds me of the jubilation one sees when watching someone’s name being called on the Price is Right. “Come on down”.

Now what do I do? Do they want me? Do they want the hat? Who should I give it to? All these questions popping into my head and only three steps to answer them in. How do I keep my face, which is still in its ‘grin of triumph’ from expressing a sense of panic.

These steps get eaten up quicker than any solutions are arrived at. Soon as I’m at the fence, that’s for keeping spectators away from the swing of the hammer, close enough for Tracy to grab the silly hat out of my hand and plot it on Stacy’s head. What does that mean?

Stacy gushes and actually hugs Tracy for the present, which confuses me even more. Do you reward a thief for her sharing of the loot? Who is she – Robin hood? This makes me laugh as I pass the safety fence.

The girls surround me and give me a group hug. This makes me grin even more which dispels most of my confused thoughts. My new friends lead me away from the scene of my recent victory and further into the crowd of the amusement pier.

It appears that ‘we’re now looking’ for what’s next, time to move on and conquer even more challenges. This was also unexpected, can’t ai get five minutes to bask in the glow of my grand achievement? I try to laugh this off but it’s still a puzzle. Girls are highly unpredictable.

They look at the rollercoaster but then they see there is a very long line. “Maybe when the beach opens more people will be on the sand and less people will be on the line for the ride?” Julie suggests. This is affirmed by ‘yeas’ from the others who seem to have to say it once toward each member of our party.

We work our way off of the pier and back onto the boardwalk, amazingly without spending any more money. We progress slowly south, peeking at the shoppes. The girls get into fits of giggles as they slip through racks of t-shirts with R-rated slogans and even drug related slogans. This I find sort of intriguing, at least the dirty joke ones. Is this getting their thoughts down a sexualized path? Females in close proximity to me with “dirty” thoughts can only be good for my prospects of some possible “action”. Maybe even this evening?

We move on from there and next we come to a stand in the middle of the boardwalk with a sign reading “Seaside Chamber of Commerce and Tourist Information”. Getting closer we see signs promoting various up coming events and specials. It seems that each weekend and Wednesday are times of firework displays. Someone asks the staff in the booth, “Where are the fireworks launched from?” Tis I thought was a brilliant question.

The person actually seemed happy at this inquiry. “Ahh,” she says and points out to the ocean. “Ya see that barge there?” and motions toward a boat floating maybe half a mile off of the beach. “That’s the ship with the fireworks, the center of all tonight’s attention.”

“Oh,” replies the questioner. “Is it going to launch from right there?”

“Yep, it’s anchored there till show time,” she responds with a grin.

This gets my attention too. I look around and try to figure out where we are, so we can get back to this area for a front row seat. I note the sign for the street name, that marks another entrance to the boardwalk. This was the place to be for the main event this evening.

We move on from the booth and gather in a huddle even putting our arms around our neighbors’ shoulders. “Did you hear what she said?” Then I look at my watch. 

“What we can try to do is come back here later and when the beach opens up try to find a spot to use as a home base.”

“Yeah!” was the general consensus.

Karen looks onto the beach itself. “Ok, lifeguard tower number 22.”

Stacy adds “Chelsea Street, we can share the word with who we come across.” This hadn’t occurred to me at all but it makes sense. If there are a dozen of us together, there was no way the bus would leave without a quarter of its passengers. One less concern.

“It’s almost 5:00 now, what do you ladies want to do now?” I ask, which struck me as a stupid thing to say but only after it was already out.

They all glance back and forth at each other which is kind of expected at this point. “I’m hungry”, comes one suggestion. “And hot” come another. This makes me think some “Ummm, I don’t recall seeing any cold food places along the boardwalk. Pizza, burgers, fish…all hot stuff.”

This seems to fall on deaf ears. “Let’s get pizza,” was the first suggestion, which was followed by a chorus of “Yeahs”.

“Ok,” I come up with “let’s chip in and get a pie but let’s see if we can find an indoor place with air conditioning or at least one with seating in the shade!” This was met with even more enthusiasm. I’m always in for pizza and with the chip-in part, they agreed that I wasn’t going to be footing the whole bill.

Tracy then reaches over and grabs the sunglasses off of my face and puts them on hers. This was not expected but if I were to “lose” them, I couldn’t think of a better way.

We break our huddle and continue down the boardwalk, still headed south with the beach to our left. There are plenty of food stand but no sit down eateries. Until we come to the next amusement pier. The pier extends out over the beach, half over the sand, half over the water. But to the right was a pizza shop. It wasn’t inside with air conditioning but it did have a roof with booths and ceiling fans. It was mutually agreed that this was the place for us. 

“What kind of pie do we want?” I say while looking over the menu. They smartly look at the pies that are on the counter behind the plexiglass. 

“Pepperoni,” someone says and that’s followed by many “yeahs”. And as if it were rehearsed each girl hands me a $10 bill. This even before I try to calculate a price. Then they go find us a booth. I’m there a bit perplexed but it’s not so bad. I get up to the lady wearing the messy white apron and hairnet. “Hi, can we get a pepperoni pie?”

“Sure, any drink?”

I spot pitchers stacked up. “Can we get a pitcher of Coke and five glasses of ice. We’re gonna sit over there.” And I point to the booth the girls are climbing into.

“Pepsi?” She asks like she has asked 1,000 times already today and will probably do so another thousand more before her day is done.

I shout over the whole place, “A pitcher of Pepsi?” I get a collective “Yes” that I pass onto the pizza lady. She presses this into her register and gives me the total. There is even some change from the $40 and I didn’t even put any money into the pot. I’ll take that.

With change in hand, I work my way back through the booths to get to ours. It’s a bit small for 5 but that’s ok. I end up sitting next to Stacy, who’s still wearing the silly hat. As I thought about it, the seating arrangement was probably engineered in this fashion, which was fine by me.

Shortly the soda comes. The server even pours the first round and lays down five straws. Tracy takes the lead and holds up her glass toward the center of the table in a toast. “Saturday night at the shore.” Then someone adds “and fireworks!” We all laugh and clank our plastic cups, then drink.

Didn’t realize how hot I was until I sipped my cold soda. Almost got a brain freeze. A shiver went down my spine making me squirm a bit. Stacy may have thought I was flirting some, cause she responded with a hip wiggle of her own. An unexpected surprise.

The pitcher was half empty before the pie arrived. Before it even came to rest on the table top, eager hands were tearing at it. This I thought was funny, so I followed their lead.

It wasn’t too bad of a pizza, not as good as Ray’s in New York the prior weekend but was plenty fine. The chitter chatter was replaced by the sound of hungry souls chomping and smacking their way through the pie. Maybe the pizza lady did it on purpose but it came in ten slices, two for each person. It worked out that I was the last to finish oddly enough. The girls by this time were each kind of slouched in their seats. Happy to be fed, hydrated and relatively cool in the shade and under the ceiling fan. This wasn’t a bad idea at all.

After a relaxing moment or two, the server came over and picked up the round metal pizza platter and the now empty pitcher. “Will you want a refill?” he asked.

“Let’s get Icees,” Stacy said, pointing to the booth across the boardwalk, featuring the Polar Bear in a Sweater. Before anyone can answer there was a mad dash from the booth, almost knocking me out of my seat. Guess that means no refill on the Pepsi. After standing I reach into my pocket and pull out the change from our dinner and try to hand it to the guy. He points back to the front counter, “There is a tip jar there,” he smiles.

By the time I left a five in the cup marked “Tips, thank you” the girls are across the midway on the line for the cool treats. Not surprisingly, this line was long but moved swiftly. There were only three choices, Coke, Diet Coke, Cherry and only two sizes, Medium and Large.

“If it’s only two sizes, shouldn’t it be large and small? How can there be a medium if there’s no small to compare it to?” Julie said. The others thought this was so profound and I thought this was funny.

Just then the girls spot three others from our group and call them over. These three girls join us in line. They let them in on our plan for a front row seat on the beach at Chelsea Street near lifeguard tower number 22 for the fireworks. They also proudly show off their Alf keychains. One asks about Stacy’s hat. “Charlie won it for me,” she exclaims and gives me a hug. Was quite happy to hear those words that the fact that the stupid hat was no longer mine had zipped right past me.  I just gave off a silly grin and instinctively put my left arm behind her back. Not only did she not shoo it away but she leaned into me. This was a nice surprise.

In the next few minutes we all had frozen drinks. They were quite refreshing. I leaned toward Stacy some, “This was a great idea, thanks.” To which she blushed some. Another good sign.

We all are together drinking our slurpy treats, more than one case of brain freeze. Each of us cooling down some with each sip, which is quite welcome.

Someone says, “Hey, let’s split up and find who we can and share this Chelsea Street plan with. Let’s see if we can get everyone there?” This is met with a bunch of enthusiastic yeses, which seems to be a recurrent theme of the day. Before this plan even registers in my head, my companions were all branching off in twos and threes. Within moments I’m standing alone with my now almost empty Icee cup.

Ok, now what do I do. A peek at my watch show 5:20, still 40 minutes before the beach opens. I guess I’ll head back toward Chelsea Street for 6:00 and see who shows up. I only know the four I’ve spent the afternoon with. I can only hope they’ll be looking out for me as much as I’ll be looking for them.

So I got some alone time after all. I just begin meandering further south on the boardwalk. Peeking my head into an occasional shop or two. Considered buying another pair of cheap sunglasses, even tried some on but made no purchase. Maybe they’ll be different styles in another shop further down the way. The most tempting thing is another cold treat of some kind or another. I also find a men’s room and then another air conditioned video arcade. This one had a full sized carousel in it. While playing a game I got to the conclusion that this place probably needs to be air conditioned to keep the electronic parts cool. I’m getting good at this deduction thing, which makes me smile.

Now it’s about 5:45, time to make my way back north, see who shows up. Along the way I try to stay close to the shops and stands along the left side of the boardwalk, in order to keep in the shade as much as possible. Hadn’t even considered bringing sunblock, which for me wasn’t so smart. Especially if I was going to be on the beach itself while the sun was still up. Peeked into one shop to see the prices on sunblock and towels. Both I thought were quite high but once you’re here on the beach you will need these items, so they got you over a barrel in a sense.

I did stop at one spot and got an Ultra Large Chocolate Shake which as I saw was about 70% soft serve chocolate ice cream. The price was considerable, $10 but the thing was maybe a whole quart of near frozen, chocolatey goodness. It was hot even with the on shore breeze and what should have been the warmest part of the day having passed.

Getting to the Chelsea Street beach entrance just a bit past 6:00 was a good stroke, the toll takers/beach pass monitors were packing up their booth and people were freely flowing to and fro. Got myself a position on the fence rail near the steps that went down to the sand. First I looked onto the sand, that was still very crowded and found no sign of Tracy, Stacy and the gang but found it hard to be sure. Then it occurred to me that I didn’t remember if any of them were wearing a watch. Did they know it was six? I also didn’t recall seeing any clocks along the boardwalk. This could be interesting.

I turned and leaned my back along the fence trying to scan the passing multitudes for a familiar face, while sipping my rapidly melting drink. Focusing particularly on faces that were under each passing Cat in the Hat/Dr. Suess headwear. They did seem to stand out some from the crowd.

I should have looked in my travels to see how many amusements were giving away that prize, doubted that only one game was issuing that award.

After about ten minutes of frustration and was about to give up and try again later, Tracy, Julie and another girl found me. Tracy was still wearing my sunglasses. Maybe I’d get them back before we returned to the St. Andrew’s parking lot? “Hey, let me get a smoke”, she said, which I gave her.

“Did you see anyone else?” I asked, lighting her cigarette.

“No, how’s about you?”

“Nope.”

“Did you hit the sand yet?”

“Nope again. Was waiting in a place that I thought would be kinda obvious, hoping someone would come by.”

“Well we did!” and she held her arms out like Vanna White showing off a prize.

“Guess that makes me a winner!” This sets off a gaggle of giggles. Tracy then comes closer to me but at the last moment bobs her head down and takes a sip of my melty chocolate drink. She’s wearing my sunglasses, smoking my cigarettes, now sipping my drink. I chuckle but my brain is doing all kids of calculations, trying to figure things out. Does she like me or is she just one of those open and outgoing, extroverted types? People are weird and girls are not understandable. All I can do is smile.

“Diane got a blanket, she’s got a towel, she’s got everything. She’s ready for a day at the beach!”

“Oh, do you got any sun block?”

“Yeah,” Diane squeaks out but she smiles, then digs into the bag she has on her shoulder.

“Can I get a squirt, please?” I ask.

“Looks like you’re a bit late for that,” Tracy says taking a closer look at my face.

“Better late than never,” I say with a shrug and holding out my hands. Diane delivers a dollop which immediately goes on my face.

“Bend down,” Tracy says and she helps spread the goo even onto my ears and the back of my neck. “Ya got ab it of burn already,” she says.

“Well, it’s got only ten days to heal.”

“When you go home put some aloe on it.”

“Don’t think I got any of that. What is it?”

“It’s a gel…it will heal your sunburn.”

“Ok. I guess I gotta get it at a drug store.”

“Yeah, they would have it at Shoprite too.” Then she wipes her fingers on my shirt.

“Thanks…I guess,” then I laugh. Then I turn to Diane, “And a big thank you to you.” She blushes. “What should we do now?”

“Let’s stake out a spot on the beach.” And she leads us down the steps as we march toward the lifeguard stand, that’s flipped onto its back now that the guards were off duty. Tracy doesn’t even turn around to see if anyone of us are following her until she gets right next to the stand.

“Well, we told them Chelsea Street. We told them lifeguard stand number 22, here we are. Now they need to find us. We’re right where we said we’d be!” She says with confidence, stomping her foot into the sand which give her a big grin. Diane drops her bag onto the ground and pulls out her blanket, which is an old bedspread about seven feet square. A bit too big for the space, so we spread it out, folding over the last 18 inches or so not to intrude on our neighbors.

The girls plop onto the blanket and lay down, even roll around some. I take the last few sips of what has become warm chocolate sludge. It was nice as long as it lasted.

Tracy says to the girls, “Go see who else you can find. I gotta talk to this guy for a minute.” The girls reply with “Ooooh!” as they get up and head toward the boardwalk.

I don’t even know what to think. “Come here you.” She says as I sit down on the blanket. What is this all about? She then looks around and pulls off her t-shirt, leaving her cut off shorts on over her one piece swimsuit. Should have figured that she wouldn’t be wearing a bikini on a church trip. With a girl like this, ya never know.

I try to be cool and look at my reflection in my own sunglasses on her face. “What’s up?”

“How about you get us some beer?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried in Jersey before.”

She wasn’t deterred one bit and maybe had even anticipated my reluctance. “When you get us some beers, I’ll tell you all about how I’m gonna fix you and Stacy up.”

This got my full attention. My mind started wheeling about how this could happen. Then the idea comes to me just as Tracy pulls out a ten and a five dollar bill from her pocket. I get onto my knees and take off my t-shirt, then empty my pockets. Wallet, cigarettes, lighter, comb, then I take off my shoes and socks. Tracy is sitting there holding the money and looking at me, wondering what I’m trying to do.

Then I stand up and hand her the towel from Diane’s bag. “Hold this a moment.” I say. Then march off the 20 feet or so into the salty surf. I spend a moment or two trying to work my way in until I’m about waist deep in the ocean. Loads of bodies still in the Atlantic even after the lifeguards have gone home for the day. I then duck down, soaking my whole body under the water, even roughing up my hair under the waves, until I get hit by a body surfer at one point.

Then I get back onto the beach and walk on the hot sand until I’m back with the perplexed Tracy, who’s still holding the towel and cash. I put on my Chuck Taylor canvas Converse without the socks, put the towel around the back of my neck and grab the cash. “I’ll be right back.”

She turns and watches me walk back toward the steps. I’m dripping salt water the whole way. Back on the boardwalk I scan up and down trying to find a place that may sell beer. I walk south until I spot a guy holding two clear plastic cups of beer. “Hey, could you tell me where you got them?” as I point to his drinks.

He doesn’t even look at me but turns to his left and points to a neon Budweiser sign. “Thanks.” I say and head that way trying to gather a look of determination.

Inside the small bar, I work my way up to the lady bartender, who’s a big haired blonde in a bikini top. What you would expect on the Jersey shore in 1987.

“Two Buds” and I give her the piece sign signaling the number two.

“To go?” she asks.

“Ahh…yeah.” It took me a moment to figure out what she was talking about. She wouldn’t be giving me a glass mug if I was leaving. She pulls two tumblers off a stack and fills them from the tap. “Twelve dollars,” she says as she finishes filling the second one. I hand her the $15 as she puts the beer on the counter. She turns to the register, “the little lady sent you in to get her a drink straight from the water?”

“Yeah, something like that,” and I pick up the drinks while her back was still turned and work my way to the door.

“Sir, your change,” she says.

“That’s for you,” and point toward the glass mug on the bar marked “Tips, thank you” and I walk to the open front that puts me back on the boardwalk.

I’m just happy that this came about without issue. I move swiftly toward the Chelsea Street steps still dripping salt water as I go. My bangs dangling in front of my eyes. My next thought, what if I run into Sister Marie? That would be awkward. I try to move swiftly but cautiously through the crowd and down the steps. Making my way back toward the flipped over lifeguard post number 22. Trying not to spill any of the new treasure while avoiding stepping on anybody, literally. 

Tracy sees me coming and I was fearful that she was going to shout or make a scene that would attract t6he attention of our neighbors but instead she silently throws her two fists in the air in victory as I come closer.

I put the drinks down onto the blanket but before I get a chance to sit, she takes the towel off my neck and covers the drinks. “Here,” she says and hands me my empty ‘ultra large’ shake cup. “Go and rinse this out” and points to the open showers on the beach back near the boardwalk. What a good idea? I take the cup and rinse it out with its lid and straw and return to the blanket.

Tracy is there smoking another cigarette. I sit, then pour the beers into the ‘ultra large’ cup. There is about 10% of one cup that doesn’t fit and before I can do anything, she grabs it from my hand and shoots it down in one gulp! This girl is full of the unexpected.

I sip from the straw and kind of miffed that the beer isn’t very cold. Then pass the cup to her.

“Didn’t think you were gonna do it,” she said.

“Wasn’t sure I was,” I sheepishly admit, taking a drag from her smoke.

“What was with the whole swimming thing? I was like ‘he’s going the wrong way!’” she chuckles.

“My idea was if I looked like I just came up out of the water that would be why I didn’t have any ID on me. I could say ‘let me get it, I’ll be right back’.”

“Oh, ok,” and she hands me my shirt. “Put this on before you’re going to need an aloe bath!” I put it on. Then she hands me my wallet. “Ya know you’re not supposed to carry rubbers in your wallet,” she says with a wink.

“Yeah but after a few weeks I toss it and replace it with a fresh one.”

“So does that mean you don’t get to use them a lot?”

This takes me a moment to pause, “Yeah,” I say sadly, “It’s been a while I admit.”

Tracy laughs, then drinks beer through the straw.

“Most guys would lie and say they get with a lotta girls.”

“Guess most guys are liars,” and grab some of the beer myself. I can still taste a bit of the chocolate in there.

“That’s what’s cool about you,” she says as she takes another sip. “You’re not like most guys. They’re all making funky comments and playing grab ass and shit.”

“I hope that’s a compliment,” I joke. 

“A lot of them are tall but more like little kids.”

This makes me laugh, “sooner or later you gotta grow up.”

“The thought of going to Korea to shoot commies for President Reagan might make someone ‘grow up’ real fast. I remember just a few years ago, my cousin was in the Marines in California and all those guys got blown up in Lebanon. My mom had to go to my aunt’s house. Stayed there for like a week until her son called. She was freaked out. He was like ‘mom, I’m in California, 10,000 miles from there’. It was crazy.”

“I could imagine.” Then my mind was reeling, picturing my mom sitting by the phone, waiting for me to call. I tried to shake this off with more beer.

“So, I think I recall somebody saying something about someone setting up someone with someone…”

“Oh yeah? That’s a lot of someones in that sentence.”

“Somewhat.”

This cracks her up so much so I get concerned that maybe she’s had too much beer already. But then I figure out that she used this to stall.

“Yeah, about that….so are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” I consider adding to this but I don’t.

“I am sorta, he had to go to Florida with his family until like the middle of August. That sucks,” and she takes another drink. “But Stacy was telling me that she was hoping to meet a guy this summer. I think she’s watched Grease on VHYS a few too many times.” Tracy gives me a wink.

“Do you think she’d be interested in me?” I ask, hopefully.

“Yep,” then she pauses to think but comes out with only another ‘yep’. “Plus she lives in Ideal, right in your neighborhood.”

“That she does. Does the fact that I’m leaving for the Army in another 10 days change things?”

“I’ll talk to her for you….if you want.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

Then she holds up the ultra large cup. “How about another one of these?”

“Yeah, give me a bit.”

“But you only got like $11 bucks left in your wallet.”

“No, I got more. There’s a secret compartment.”

“Ya shoulda put your rubbers in there.” This makes her crack up.

In a couple more minutes the beer is done, which is good because I didn’t want whole crowds to get wind of this. A little too late to be having second thoughts at this point. It isn’t long before other join us. Now there’s nine of us crammed onto the blanket. Tracy and Stacy stand up and strip off their cut offs and run out into the ocean. Some others join them. I didn’t know what to do myself.

I said to the only other guy left with me, “Are you gonna be here for a bit? I’m gonna find a men’s room.” He said he was good and pulled out his Sony Walkman and put it on. Don’t think I ever got his name.

I get up and head back to the boardwalk, thought about it too late but should have gotten my sunglasses back first. My first stop was a stand that sold Gatorade. It was still hot even thought it was already past 7:00. Was it ever going to cool down? I chugged down the cold drink, maybe too quickly. Was about to toss out the empty bottle, then decided to hold on to it. I could fill it up with water in the bathroom or at a water fountain.

Did next find a bathroom and on my way out checked the mirror closely for signs of sunburn on my ears and face. It wasn’t bad at all. Filling up the bottle with tap water I then exit. Maybe I should head back to stand 22?

While I contemplated what to do next, I came across a stand selling towels and other beach related things. Was looking at the sunblock but figuring that there would be little use for it at this point in the day. I also saw little bottles of Aloe Vera Gel, this I inspected closely. Had to look closely because the print was so small on the tiny bottles. It said it would aid in the healing and soothing of sun damaged skin. The little bottle was $5. It seemed like a lot but I was concerned about not having the ache of sunburn while doing Army training. Would being in that condition delay my entry into the Army? I would have to go through another physical before leaving for Ft. Leonard Wood. Five bucks was better even if it just eased my mind about next week. Was also looking at the towels, sunglasses, beach hats, everything before heading to the cash register. Stalling in the cooler shade of the shop with its ceiling fans while my mind churned about what to do next. That’s when the next thing caught my eye.

It was a white bottle with a long heavy duty plastic flexible straw, even the straw had a little cap on it. Could use this to hide my beer? It was a bit bigger than the ultra large cup and had “Seaside NJ USA” printed on it. This would work I thought.

I purchased the bottle which was cheaper than the Aloe Gel and kept out $15. Then exited the shop and went back to the bar that I found earlier. A peek inside showed the same bartender lady. She was again the only one behind the bar. All of the patrons seemed to be watching a baseball game on the TV in the corner. Went up to the bar and got two more beers. The lady didn’t even look at me. Probably could have given her Monopoly money and she wouldn’t have noticed. While still in the bar, transferred the two cups into the new commemorative bottle, left the empties on the bar top and walked out. This was even easier than the first trip.

Back to Chelsea Street, down the steps to the beach and through the sand to stand 22. There were some others on the blanket, one was Karen whom was in the Pizza bunch. “Let me guess…everyone is in the water?”

“Yeppers,” she says.

I take off my shoes, empty my pockets into them, then stuff my shirt into them. As an added bit I flipped the blanket up and put my shoes under that. Then took my new cup and walked into the crashing surf. Stood about calf deep while I scanned the heads and bodies for a familiar face. They found me first.

Tracy and Stacy were waist deep, waving and ‘woo-hoo-ing’ my way. I walk my way into the water, which must be approaching high tide, the saves seem rougher than only an hour earlier. But was somewhat more focused in that quick dip. I move towards them and they move towards me. The waves crashing into their back as they walk. 

“Hey there,” Stacy says.

I’m thinking I need to play this cool but here are these two girls in wet bathing suits being all sweet to me.

“What’s with the drink?” Tracy asks.

“Well, don’t I owe you one?” I say with a wink, extending the cooler to her.

“No fucking way!,” as she reaches out and thirstily sips from the straw. Stacy isn’t clued in to our private joke as she watches her drink, then pass the commemorative tumbler to her.

“What’s this?” Stacy asks.

“Didn’t I tell you Charlie was gonna take care of us!” Tracy said as she passed the cup to Stacy to take a sip. Stacy takes a sip as Tracy hugs me. My brain gets excited, she’s half naked, soaking wet and happy to have her arms around me. This was a good day.

Stacy also comes closer, almost as if she’s trying to squeeze between us. Now there’s two wet girls getting friendly with me. Things are very good, until we get hit by a body that was being tossed by a wave. We get tussled but laugh this off. What else can we do? Can’t get mad at a body surfing kid.

It’s not like a pool where someone can stand neck deep in cool water. The waves are changing the depth at two feet dips moment by moment. I take a moment and put my head under the water. The water is not cold but it’s cooler than the air above it. I’ll take what I can get. We also keep passing the beer between us. Trying hard to keep the saltwater out of it while keeping eyes open for bodies getting tossed by crazy waves. All the while trying to keep close to the girls. Have to remember what Tracy said earlier about guys playing grab ass. Did appreciate that she didn’t invite more friends over to share in our drink. 

We were in water that for the most part was up to about my calves. There were literally hundreds of others within just a few yards of us. Everyone doing their own thing, no one paying attention to us which was obvious by how often we hot bumped into by others. Lots of mothers yelling, “don’t go out past your waist”. As the expression goes at the Jersey Shore, the next town over is Portugal.

So we’re trying to chat, which isn’t the easiest thing to do amid all of the noise of the people and the crashing of the waves. We are also emptying the drink one sip at a time. I’m so itching to ask Tracy if she spoke to Stacy about me but again, I’m trying to play it cool. But where is the line crossing from ‘cool’ to ‘disinterested’? All of the silly things that goes through a guy’s mind when trying to impress a girl.

Eventually our drink gets drained without getting any salt water into it. The air was cooling down, being that it was now close to 8:00. Maybe the beer was affecting my internal thermometer? It didn’t seem as hot as it was earlier. Maybe it was the Gatorade or the fact that I was standing in water that was at least a little cooler than the air. Whatever the case, the effect was a lot less heat.

The sun was still blazing but it was closer to the western horizon now. There were no shadows from the buildings anywhere that I could see. There were still umbrellas and other assorted tents and canopies on the sand.

“Maybe later we can get some more of this good stuff?” Tracy asks while shaking the now empty tumbler.

“Yeah, maybe. There’s lots of time.”

She grabs my wrist to look at my watch. “What do you think about the idea of watching the fireworks from the water?” she asks.

“That sounds cool,” Stacy says. “Maybe if the tide calms down some, getting beat up a little here.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s take a break before we turn into raisins!” She cracks herself up, again. Is the beer helping or hurting? Is it even a bad thing?

The three of us tread slowly from the surf, fighting the undertow that’s trying to suck us back into the deep. No wonder moms don’t want their kids out too far, one false move and your next address will be Atlantis.

Back up the beach and following the girls. They share a towel, then it gets passed to me. Don’t know how many others used it before them. It was quite damp. Considered going over to the shower but if they were thinking of watching the fireworks from the water, would have to shower again anyway. A quick peek showed the fireworks boat was still there.

The blanket was slightly empty at this point. After putting on my shirt and pulling out a smoke, Tracy took one also. I then got the girls to put some of the aloe on my ears and nose. Was just happy there were girls so interested in me and even touching me, albeit in a non-sexual way. It was still touching, nonetheless. At this point I’d take what I could get. This also allowed me to check them out without being too creepy.

We were just hanging out, talking, waiting for the time to tick by, anticipating the big show. Now a bit more than an hour away. I’m kind of itching to know if Tracy got to ask Stacy about me.  Even if she did and Stacy had interest in me, what would happen over the next nine days after today? My poor little head was swimming in a sea of ‘what ifs’. More so than my body was in the ocean just minutes before. This is too much heavy thinking for what is supposed to be a fun, relaxing holiday.

“Who wants to go for a walk?” I say, standing up.

“Where ya going?”

“I guess the boardwalk,” pointing in that direction, sliding into my Converse.

“Gonna get some more…” Tracy says, shaking the cup.

“Mmm, maybe, don’t know,” I really didn’t. Didn’t have a clue what to do, just knew that I wasn’t gonna sit around for the next hour or so letting my brain go crazy.

“Maybe some more soft serve?” This just popped into my head. It was sure to pique some imaginations and taste buds.

Tracy took the bait and started scrambling for her cut-offs. Stacy followed suit. Within a minute we were plodding through the sea of bodies toward the Chelsea Street steps. Tracy stopping for a moment to rinse out the cup in the shower. She was really into her beer. Maybe I could figure out a way to work this to my advantage. Not only tonight but over the last few days before my departure? Walking south again on the boardwalk, this time passing right by the bar, saw more than one couple with their arms around each other. Some with their hands in their partner’s back pocket, their palm up on their mate’s ass. This was tempting. The three of us were walking abreast, one girl on each side. It wasn’t by my design. Was seriously thinking about putting my arms around BOTH of them, doing the whole back pocket thing.

But before I got my guts up or at least even close to that level, we run into Sister Marie! The girls run the last dozen steps to the nun in civilian clothes. Then my brain panics. What if she smells the beer or cigarettes? But thankfully she is standing right hear a food stand, that has onions and peppers getting grilled only a few feet away. Hopefully this would over power the odor of the contraband.

“We’re all on the beach,” Stacy tells her.

“We found out were the fireworks are being fired from,” she turns to point to the barge but there is a food stand blocking the view. “Go on the Chelsea Street beach entrance. We’re right to the right of the flipped over lifeguard stand,” Tracy adds enthusiastically.

This I find curious. If Sister Marie is there, how does she expect to drink and smoke?

“That’s wonderful. I’ll be there in a few.”

“We’re gonna get some ice cream. We’ll be going back there before the show starts,” Tracy replies. “We’re thinking about watching from the water!”

“That would be quite memorable,” the nun adds. “I’ll see you over there before 9:30. If you see any others, please remind them that they should head straight to the church as soon as the show is over. They said their going to have the doors open so we can use their restrooms before we go. This way we don’t have to wait in long lines with everyone else.” This was a handy tidbit to know. One sure way to get everybody to the church quickly.

We part from the nun and continue south. Once out of Sister Marie’s earshot I say, “How do you plan on smoking and drinking beer if the nun will be right there with us?”

“Well, if we didn’t tell her, someone would have.”

“Yeah,” adds Stacy. “I’ll bet someone already told her and she was kinda like testing us.”

“She’s sorta sneaking like that. Crafty for a nun.”

This makes me laugh. “A devious nun. What will they come up with next.”

“My grandma told me that when she was a kid, a nun broke a wooden ruler over her knuckles for biting her fingernails in school!”

“Ouch,” then I turn to Stacy, who said earlier that she went to Catholic High School. “They don’t still do that, do they?”

“Oh hell no. I only have one nun teacher now and that’s in Religion Class.”

After a visit to the bathrooms, we have another smoke before getting into the line at the ice cream shop. The line was long and moving slowly. Was racking my head to remember if this was the place that I got the Ultra Large shake. How much different can soft serve ice cream be from one place to another along the same stretch of beach?

I try to get closer physically to Stacy to try and judge how welcome this would be to her. Each half step in her zone only added to my unease. She gave no indication that she even noticed. Was it because she didn’t consider me getting close was something of note?

A young guy gets all kinds of wacky thoughts. Girls are a confusing new territory, wonderful and wonderous as they are. When we’re next in line, I put my hand on the small of her back and say, “What are you going to get?”

To my great surprise she leaned into me. Then tilted her head back and looked into my eyes. Then she said something but my mind was too busy shouting ‘hooray’ to hear it. Had to stop a moment and say, “What?”, after shaking my head clear.

“Swirl cone, rainbow sprinkles,” she repeated herself. She could have said, “rats and snails and puppy dog tails….like the nursery rhyme and I’d be smiling just as broadly.”

“Yeah, me too.”

What? Who? Oh, yeah, there are still other people on this planet. Lost track of that for a moment or two.

“Oh, ok,” all the while staring into Stacy’s eyes.

Tracy has to poke me to return to Earth, when our turn to order comes. Eventually I turn to the guy behind the counter, “Umm,” I stutter.

“Swirl cones, rainbow sprinkles,” Tracy chimes in.

“Yeah, three please,” And I fish out my wallet with a bit of embarrassment. The girls start grabbing bunches of napkins. Smart move.

The cones come, the money changed hands. I couldn’t tell you if I got the correct change or not. My brain still wasn’t coherent yet.

Now I’m standing with a vanilla-chocolate swirl cone with rainbow sprinkles. What in the world was this doing in my hand? No chocolate on chocolate? What was I thinking? That was the point, I wasn’t thinking.

Not that I was allergic or adverse to this except maybe the rainbow sprinkles part but this was very unlike me. If anyone of my other friends saw me, they may take my pulse and check my other vital signs. But this was okay. Working the ice cream lick by lick. It’s cooler than it was at 2:30 but we all still expected a lot of melty mess. Still half staring at Stacy, she notices and looks at me. Without knowing what else to do, I offer her a taste of my treat, extending it to her. She leans forward an inch and gives it al ick. Yeah, this was silly beings she had the exact same dessert in her own hand. 

The three of us are relatively quiet as we devour our cones, slowly working our way back to Chelsea Street. Of course, I finish first, because I want my hands to be free for Stacy but after peeking at my sticky fingers I bide my time a little. When the girls finish, we begin to look again for some place to rinse our hands. We end up at the same restrooms we were at 15 minutes earlier.

After exiting with clean hands, we work our way down the steps to the beach. It’s beginning to grow darker and the lights from the boardwalk with its booths and amusements are all the illumination we’ll have once the sun goes down. It’s still light enough to see our way through the crowded sand and find stand 22.

A whole lot more of our companions are there now. The message got out. The girls split off and mingle among the crowd. I’m left on the outside by myself. This isn’t quite what I had expected. Made me chuckle a bit.

It’s less than an hour until the big show. I try to focus on this, all the while, trying to keep one eye open for Stacy. This quickly gets frustrating. Before long I’m ripping off my shirt and stuffing the contents of my shorts’ pockets into my shoes. Walking toward the surf, I spot her and point to the water. My hope is that she chooses to join me.

After about five minutes with the waves nipping at my ankles, I come to the realization that she isn’t going to join me. Screw it, I’m at the beach. I’m going swimming! Taking steps into the ocean, first thing I notice is that the force of the tide is way down from even an hour before. Going down the slope of the continental shelf, in a few steps I’m up to my hips and then chest.  There aren’t as many bodies in the water as I found earlier but still a bunch.

Bobbing in the waves, making a game of keeping my head above the surface, I end up getting shuffled around some at one point, was facing the beach and boardwalk. This was an impressive view. The sky was slowly darkening, the sun now behind the taller hotels. One block west of the boardwalk, the sky still alight but darker, cloudless blue. The lights of the boardwalk, a touch blinding when looking directly into them. Lots of activity and commerce still going on. People going to and fro, squeezing through the crowds.

To the nort6h and south were the amusement piers, jutting into the ocean, one with a roller coaster. Another with a very tall parachute ride. Along part of the beach was the gondolas of the skyride, that in my earlier imagination was something my new lady friend and I might take passage on. The carriages lumbering over the beach. Could make out the heads and shoulders of the passengers.

The beach was very crowded. It was almost shoulder to shoulder. Would only get worse as it crept toward show time. Don’t know what to make of this. Time to come up with a plan was ticking away. Maybe the girls had an idea? Couldn’t hurt to ask. After taking a quick final look around, with extra time looking at the fireworks ship, with lots of lights on it, being easy to spot in the darkness but not able to see any activity on the deck. Then I spot a larger wave coming in, I decide to body surf or ‘ride the wave’ in.

The trick of this maneuver is to correctly time your start of a swim toward the shore line. Once you’re in motion, you hope that the force of the wave will push you even faster toward the beach. The bad news is that you must work to maintain yourself as close to the surface as possible in order to avoid going under where you risk being smacked face first into the wet sand, with the water near the surface still headed in but the water on the bottom being pulled out. The dreaded undertow. This could lave you literally getting twisted up underwater like the spin cycle in a front loading washing machine.

While the crest of the wave is still ten feet away, my swim begins. Freestyling my way in, as fast as I can, keeping an eye forward to avoid swimming into another bather. Can feel the wave lift me up onto its swell and its force propelling me forward. My altitude and speed increases are very much felt. Its nothing in comparison to the waves I’ve seen on TV and film that the surfers ride in Hawaii but a fun sensation nonetheless.

Still have to swim to maintain my place on the surface of the water as I rapidly approach the shoreline, that was about 150 feet from where I started. Now only 50 and getting closer very moment. I get to the point where I have to put my arms straight out in front of me because at any moment the wave will crash, sending me face first into the wet sand. This protection is much needed because in a flash I’m dropped and feel like Wile E Coyote when the Acme rocket runs out of fuel after flying off the edge of a cliff.

Once on my feet and having brushed off the sand my mind has to search for why I'm here again. Oh yeah , fireworks are coming . A peak of my watch brings alarm. It's blank. WTF? I've worn this thing in the shower and the pool. It's been waterproof then. Is salt water any different? Crappy $30 Kmart watch. Walking back to the flipped over stand #22 , when out of nowhere a towel wraps around my head. 

“Hey you're all wet!” Tracy says all I can do is laugh, as I try to drive myself with what maybe 20 other people used for the same purpose in the last few hours.

She steps closer to me. “So what’s up?”

“Don’t know. My stupid watch conked out. Must be the saltwater. How much longer until show time?”

“Not long now, maybe 20 minutes.”

“What ya want to do about watching it?”

“We were talking about the water plan but then we’d have to dry off quick and run to the church to meet the bus.”

“That’s no big deal,” I say. Then I lean in a bit closer and whisper, as much as I can with the rowdy crowds all around us, “Did you have that little talk with you know who?”

“Yep, all done.”

“And? What did she say about it?” This was like pulling teeth.

“She said she’d think about it,” Tracy replies with a sly tease in her voice.

“Ah, ok. What do you think I should do?”

“Give the girl some time,” she jokes.

“Only 20 minutes til show time you said.”

“Yeah, let’s go have a smoke,” then she adds, “we can talk some more.” And she turns and walks away, expecting me to follow her.

It takes some time to locate my sneakers and its contents. People had walked and maybe sat on them. They were hidden so well nobody saw them. Good for security, bad for the cigarettes. In another few seconds I had caught up to Tracy who again rightly assumed I'd be right behind her period we end up at the end of the sand. There is a fence that prevents us from going under the boardwalk which is about 7 feet over our head. I fish out to bent but not broken cancer sticks and light them up. 

“Ok,” I ask, “what did Stacy say to you when you told her about fixing us up?”

“I didn’t have to do that. She was asking me all about you. How I know you? Were you seeing anybody? Shit like that.”

“And what did you say to her?”

“I told her about your friend used to go out with my neighbor, Helen and I knew you from when you went to Woodbridge High.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I may have mentioned that you were asking about her and what not,” she was well rehearsed in being coy.

“Yeah, and?”

“I asked her if she wanted me to try to set you two up?”

“And she said?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? That’s not encouraging at all. That knocks down her Grease summer lovin’ at the beach dream.”

“Slow your jets Speedy Gonzalez, not like you two are gonna elope tonight. Are you?”

“Ah, no, not tonight.”

Tracy laughs, “That’s good. It would be a tough thing to explain to Sister Marie.” As she points toward the Chelsea Street steps. I turn and see the nun standing there looking out toward the water, not in our direction, obviously looking for the group.

Tracy takes a last drag and stubs out the butt in the sand with her toe. “I’ll go get our best friend, don’t be too close behind me.” She then moves off and I follow. Tracy grabs the nun’s hand and leads her to stand 22, with me a few steps behind. With the nun in the mix there will be no smoking, drinking or romancing through the display. Some days you win and some days you lose in the same stroke.

“Hey, everybody…look who I found!” Tracy shouts as a way of warning the assembled. The sister is artificially welcomed with cheers. I don't think she buys it for a moment. Paragraph when out of nowhere the lights on the boardwalk dim by about half . This elicits a great roar from the assembled hordes. Every head turns to the lighted barge sitting about a mile out to sea. Every head but mine maybe. My eyes are trying to pick out Stacy from those in the area. After a frustrating, few moments, which includes some of me moving around for another view that helps me find her. I was looking at the heads and faces but what was the chief clue was what was in her hands. In one hand was the commemorative Cup and the other the silly striped hat. Silently squeezing myself through the crowd I tug on her wrist. She turns and smiles, her eyes lighting up. Tilting my head to the side, she peels away from the group with me. We end up right in front of the flipped over lifeguard stand.

She is staring at me in wonder and a bit of disbelief. Her face is saying, ‘is this really happening?’ I turned her so she is facing the ocean and I take a stand behind her, putting a hand on each shoulder. I then leaned down and whispered into her ear, “I wanted to share this special moment with you.”

I didn't know how she was going to react, but she ended up leaning her back into my chest. This I thought was a good sign. I took my hands from her shoulders and draped them over her front. Grabbing my left wrist with my right hand. 

This is when the first rockets burst into the night sky. Stacy leaned her head to the left some and wrapped her arms around mine. I got my head to the right of hers putting my chin almost on her shoulder. Didn't know what to expect at this point. It was hard to concentrate fully on the show. My head was saying, ‘hey, there is a girl in my arms. How about that?’ She was swaying some, I followed her lead. Not so secretly I was hoping that she was going to turn around some and opened herself up for a kiss, but she didn't.

The show played on for about 15 minutes. It was dramatic, being over the ocean and all that, but there was no musical soundtrack, at least one we could hear. There also, was no extras or anything not from the barge itself, except the dimming of the boardwalk lights to add something unexpected to the show. The finale was loud and bright. Burst at several levels, turning the night into day. Could have stood there and read a book! 

At the end, amidst all of the cheering, I got close to Stacy’s ear and whispered, “Thank you for sharing this moment with me,” and I kissed her cheek. She then gave my arms an extra squeeze. Then gently broke away. I thought she was going to turn around and I was going to give her a real kiss, but she quickly walked back to the group. This is not what I was expecting at all.

In the moment it took me to figure out what happened and what didn't comma the lights came back on over the boardwalk. I slowly shuffled back toward the group. 

“Let’s all get ack to the church. I want to be back at St. Andrews by midnight.”

This I thought was funny and let loose a chuckle which led to some more by our fellow travelers. Getting through all these people, hurting them to the bus, letting everyone visit the bathroom, boarding and head counting. Then to be stuck in traffic for Lord knows how long, midnight will be a miracle but maybe the good sister has some pull with the man upstairs. 

A tug on my elbow pulls me to my left. Stacy wearing the striped hat and Tracy are there. “What’s up?”

“Come on,” and they wave me to follow them to the right. North on the slowly emptying beach, quickly we trot. It’s the five of us from the pizza feast. 

“We’re not headed for the steps?” I ask.

“Come on,” is all I get in reply. As we still are hustling north, we pass the next two sets of steps to the boardwalk before we slow down. The beach is a lot more empty now.

“Ok,” Tracy says, “we can go slow now. We’re away and ahead of everyone by now. Give me a cigarette.”

“Yeah, they’re all squeezed into the slow moving crowd.”

I light the smokes. “Ok, but we only got another few blocks before the beach is blocked by the pier?” I point out.

“By then we’ll be several blocks ahead of those stuck in the gridlock.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Stacy says. Who is strangely avoiding looking directly at me. We’re slowly strolling on the beach but still making good time. We go almost to the amusement pier before veering to the left and the last set of steps toward the boardwalk.

Julie asks, “Do we wanna join the herd on the crowded boardwalk or cut to the street?”

“I got no more money, don’t need to tease myself any more by looking at stuff I can’t possibly get,” Karen adds.

“Got anything left in your secret compartment…next to your rubbers?” Tracy asks. This draws out a chorus of “Ooooh”.

“A little,” I sheepishly admit.

“Enough to get two sodas we could split?”

“Yeah, we could do that.” At least she didn’t ask for another beer. And I pull out a $10.

“So,” Julie asks, “Whatcha doing with those rubbers?”

Before I can open my mouth, Tracy says, “Whatever Stacy wants!”

The girls crack up hysterically, except for Stacy who turns pink with embarrassment and tries to pull the hat down over her face.  

It’s up the steps and trying to merge in with the masses while staying together. I grab Stacy’s hand, she looks at me.

“I don’t want to lose you…in the crowd.” She smiles and we continue walking.

A stop in one shop and that 10 spot got everyone a Coke. If I wanted any change, I should have held onto the bill myself, silly me. At the next street we make a left, the crowds are cut down tremendously. We can actually talk not that the conversation was anything memorable. Going the three blocks then making a right now we're looking for the church. The streets are jammed with cars all exiting the island after the big holiday display. The mass exodus was totally expected at least by anyone with half of a brain. But for those without, they could be easily identified by how they were laying on their car horns like the whole ocean of cars are just going to get out of their way just in case you're rude and obnoxious. A few more blocks and we find Our Lady of Perpetual Help. It's a door is open. Once inside we find we are among the first there. Not much of a surprise. After we visit to the bathroom, we end up around back to have a last smoke before the long bus ride home. Coming back around the front we discover that not even the bus driver is here yet. How's that for wanting to get home early? 

I turn to Stacy, “how are you getting home?”

“Duh, on the bus!”

“No, I mean from St. Andrews to your house.”

“Oh, I was gonna walk.”

“Me too, I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh yeah, that would be great,” and she coyly plays with the brim of her silly hat, formerly my silly hat. Well at least for a few seconds it was mine.

Bunches of our companions show up. Sister Marie and the bus driver. We are all ready to go when the last three come on board.

Tracy asks me, “What time is it?”

I look at my watch, one of the LCD bars is working, “I dunno, stupid watch is allergic to salt water.”

“Why’d ya put it in the water then?”

“It has no problem with the shower or pool.”

“It’s almost 11,” someone adds.

“We ain’t getting back by midnight,” another person points out.

“Who wants to make a bet Sister Marie dozes off during mass tomorrow?” This brings a round of laughs as the bus starts up.

Stacy is sitting next to me again. She is sort of fading out. I told her head onto my shoulder. She offers no resistance. I lean my head back as much as I can , then scoot down in the seat some so my head can catch some of the back rest period the traffic on the street is better than we saw it just half an hour before. It's over the bridge to the mainland and a few miles to the Parkway but it's still more than 50 miles to Avenel. once on the Parkway I doze off some but not fully. When the bus is lumbering up the Raritan River bridge the diesel screams aroused most of the passengers. We know we're getting close to home at least we're back in Middlesex County. On the North side of the River we are in Woodbridge Township once again less than 10 miles to go. I don't wake anyone till we get to the US 1 and 9 merge. Sleepyheads began to arouse themselves. At one point we pass a bank that has an external Clock it's 1220 AM. Eventually we turn onto Avenel St then into the church parking lot. There are what I suspect a few parents waiting for their kids in the parking lot. Guess that makes sense. Some may not want their kids walking the quiet streets at night.

Someone pulls out a pen and I give my phone number to Tracy, Stacy and a few others. It takes only two minutes to empty the bus and it pulls off everyone goes their separate ways. Stacy and I and two others are walking down Avenel St until we get to the train station underpass.

“Ya gotta check in the tunnel, find out if there are any bums in there.”

“What bums?”

“My friend says there are bums who live in there at night. Ya gotta check for me.”

“Yeah, ok,” so I go down the steps to the underpass and can see all of the way to the other side. “Nobody here, no mice, no rats and no bums,” I call out.

My companions come down the steps cautiously but when their eyes tell them the same thing I did, they are okay. Quickly we are on the other side. Our companions shortly split off from us and go their separate way home.

“I’m tired,” Stacy finally admits. Then I get the idea to give her a piggy back ride.  We’re bouncing down the hill and make a right onto Rahway Avenue.

“What’s your week looking like?”

“My week?”

“Yeah, what ya doing this week?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I want to spend time with you.”

“Oh, before you go to Korea?”

“Don’t think I’m going to Korea,” I chuckled.

“What do you want to do?”

“We could go to the mall or we could go to New York. We could just hang out. I got the Tom Petty tickets for Tuesday, got any interest in that?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Is there anything you want to do? I can get a car. The train is right here. Anything you want.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” she seemed hesitant.

“I’ll call you tomorrow or today, Sunday….in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, ok. Don’t think I’m going to mass in the morning,” she laughs.

We turn into Ideal and she directs me to her place. It’s only about 150 yards from my mom’s. I put her down on her patio and turn to her.

“Hey, can I kiss you goodnight?”

“I wish but the lights are on. So I know my mom is waiting up for me. Sorry.”

“Ok, we’ll make up for it this week then.”

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see. Goodnight.” And she turns and walks up her steps. Enters her place and closes the door.

I slowly walk home. Then get into the shower to get all of the salty residue off of me. Then I lather myself up in Aloe gel. By 1:00 am I am on the pillow. It’s been a pretty good day.

SUNDAY, JULY 5, 1987

  At one point in the morning my mother woke me up. She may have said where she was going but I was still 3/4 asleep. Eventually I get out of bed and make it into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. By then it's almost 11:00 am. 

At noon on the button the phone rings. It's Tracy, “whatcha doing sleepyhead?”

“Nothing yet. Drinking coffee. How about you?”

“Just got back from church.”

“Yeah, did Sister Marie nod off during the mass?”

“Don’t know. I didn’t even see her,” she laughs.

“Maybe she called out sick or took the day off.”

“A nun?”

“Nuns are people too.”

“So, tell me the info.”

“What info?”

“What happened last night?”

“Ahh….last night. I went to Seaside to see the 4th of July fireworks.”

“I know that, dummy. Was there any fireworks after you two left the church?”

“Ah, no.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“I can’t wait that long. I’m asking you right now!”

“Sorry.”

“You’re a party pooper.”

All I can do is laugh, “Hey, what are you up to this week?”

“Nothing. How about you?”

“I got the concert on Tuesday and that’s about it.”

“What ya wanna do?”

“I sure as hell don’t want to spend my last week sitting around in front of the stupid tv.”

“Again. What do you want to do?”

“Dunno. Maybe go to New York one day.”

“You said you went to New York last weekend?!”

“So I want to go again.”

“I want to go too but my folks would never let me, not with someone they didn’t know.”

“I won’t tell them if you don’t.”

“Like the beer?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, I got your cup still. Thought my mom was gonna smell it in the car on the way home last night. That would have sucked. Got home and washed it out.”

“You can keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, what am I going to do with it, bring it to Korea?”

This makes her laugh. “Guess not, probably would look weird sitting on a table with some chopsticks.” She cracks herself up.

“So think about coming to New York with me this week or the mall or wherever.”

“Ok. When ya gonna call Stacy?”

“I’ll let you call her first. I’m gonna jump in the shower in a minute.”

“Ok. Bye,” and she hangs up the phone. Easting breakfast and drinking coffee I brainstorm all of the things I want to do this week. Maybe go to a move, go to New York again, go to the mall? Maybe my mom would lend me her car? Still gotta find out about Mike and the concert on Tuesday. By 3:00 still haven’t heard from mom and Mike’s phone was busy the two times I tried to call. Figured what the hell and called Stacy’s house, even though she only lived about 150 yards away.

“Hey, what ya up to?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you doing today?”

“Not much.”

This is going nowhere fast. “Yaw anna go get some Chinese food?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“Cool, I’ll walk to your place in five minutes.”

“No, wait.”

“What?”

“Ya can’t come over right now.”

“Ok, can you come out? Meet me at the laundry room.”

“No, not today.”

“What about tomorrow? Want to go to the mall?”

“Maybe.”

This was frustrating. “Can I call you at 9:00 tomorrow morning?”

“I guess.”

“Did Tracy call you earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Had to shake this off. Well if she spoke with Tracy, maybe she has a clue about what’s up. So I call Tracy.

“Was talking with Stacy. Well, was trying to anyway. She was giving me one word answers, was tough to get any words out of her. Did she say anything to you?”

“A few hours ago she was all excited about yesterday and spending time with you. She really liked the piggy back ride. I mean really, really like it.”

“Ok but why is she so distant now?”

“Dunno.”

“I’m going to Woodbridge Center tomorrow. Meet me there.”

“What about Stacy?”

“I’ll try to bring her.”

“How are you getting there?”

“If I can’t borrow my mom’s car, I’ll walk or if it’s raining, I’ll get a cab.”

“If you get the car pick me up.”

“Ok, that’s a big ‘if’. I’ll let you know. I’ll call you back if not tonight, then at 9:00 am tomorrow.”

“Ok. Bye,” she says.

Eventually, my mother comes home and I take her to the local Chinese place which ironically is named Good Friend. I tried to butter her up for borrowing her car Monday and/or Tuesday but it didn't work.

I call Mike and tell him about the shore trip and meeting the girls. He tells me that he's worked it out that his mother or stepfather can pick us up from the concert on Tuesday and while on the phone with him, I get my mom to agree to drop us off at the concert for $20 . That settles that. Mike and I agree to meet at the mall at noon near the Burger King. It's the spot where a lot of people hang out because it's one of the few places inside that you can smoke. A check on the TV shows good weather for tomorrow. A call to Tracy and I leave a message. “I'm walking to the mall tomorrow. I could meet you at Burger King at noon. Call me back.”  I get no answer when I call Stacy. She doesn't have an answering machine. I consider walking over there but don't.

MONDAY, JULY 6, 1987

   I get up early, before my mom goes to work at 8:30. Shave and shower. At 9:00 I call Stacy first. 

“I’m going to the mall. Come with me.”

“Can’t promised mom I’d do thing for her today.”

“Can I help you?”

“No. I got it. I’ll call you later.”

Then I call Tracy. She said she was trying to find a ride to the mall for noon.  Next I call Mike. He says he’s still going to the mall. By 10:30 I’m all ready and head out early. The quickest most direct way to walk to the Woodbridge Center Mall is to walk along the freight train tracks. Yep every kid in tow is told not to do it, yet everyone does. It’s about two miles (One time I measured it on a map with a piece of string). One time I got lucky and hopped on a passing freight train. Another time I got unlucky and had to wait a half an hour or so while a slow moving train was going the other way.

When there are no trains it’s a quiet, peaceful walk in the woods. After the tracks cross Rahway Avenue, right next to Ideal, there is only one other grade crossing before they pass the mall itself. Thankfully, my watch dried out and was working again after its encounter with the salt water. It takes almost an hour to walk to the mall, mostly because it’s tough to cross St. Georges Avenue, the one grade crossing, it is a main thoroughfare. It’s two lanes in each direction and known locally as State Rt 35. Once at the mall, I’m required to climb up an enbankment6 from the tracks, then cross the parking lot.

The A/C of the shopping mall is very welcome at this point. I can sit for a bit and get some water at a fountain before heading to the meeting spot. There are lots of teens there but no one I know. I just end up waiting around. Mike comes and we join a group of folks he knows, while I keep my eyes open for Tracy and anybody else who may show up. By 1:00, we end up browsing and walking around.

I drop 25 cents into a pay phone and call Tracy. She is home and couldn't get a ride to the mall and decided it was too hot to walk all that way. Can't quite blame her it would be 5 miles or more. No wonder they run the New York marathon in November . I tell her to plan on going to New York on Friday. She says she'll try. 

Mike gets a ride home from someone and what I end up doing is walking to the library and getting there before my mom got off work period so I ended up only walking halfway back home. Slept in kind of late period was up late playing on the computer. Spoke to my mom before she went to work period she was going to come right home from work at 5:00 o'clock and we would go pick up Mike and go to the show. I list around most of the morning but about 11:00 o'clock shaved and showered. Just on a whim I walked over to Stacy's place and knocked on the door.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Aww. Thanks,” she blushes.

“Want to get some lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, it’s the meal people eat about noon time.”

“Yeah, I know. Umm…I don’t know.”

“We can go to the deli or to the bagel shop or to Good Friend. Or we could get something delivered.”

“Oh. I don’t know.”

“Can I come in? We can talk about it.”

“No. Nobody’s home.”

“We can go to my place. Nobody’s there.”

“Not today. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I only have a couple of days left before I am leaving.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Are we ever going to hang out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Am I ever gonna get that kiss you owe me?”

She turns purple with embarrassment. “I don’t know.”

“Well, Friday I’m going to New York. Come with me.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

I’m quite frustrated, “I’ll call you in a bit.”

“Ok.”

And I walk back home. Doesn’t take the whole 150 yards before I come to the conclusion that this whole Stacy thing is going nowhere. But I’ll still call her, mainly because there’s nothing else to do.

I end up calling Tracy. “Stacy acts like she doesn’t want to know me at all. Maybe I should just give up?” Trying to catch her reaction.

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to her. She’s never had a guy trying to know her before and that fact you are leaving next week has gotta figure in there somehow.”

“Yeah. I get all of that…but still…”

“I know it’s tough to figure out,” she cuts me off.

“Anyway, there is a train on Friday leaving from Woodbridge at 10:20 on the schedule. I’m gonna be on it and you should come with me.”

“Where will we go?”

“New York.”

“Yeah, I know that but where in New York?”

“Wherever you want.”

“When will we get back? I can’t let my folks know I went to New York.”

“Not a problem. When do you want to be home?”

“I don’t know.”

“We can take the train back to Woodbridge and I’d get on the 62 bus with you there, that will bring us right down through Seawaren. I’d even walk you right to your front door. Won’t let you get lost.”

“All of that sounds good…but I don’t know.”

“Well, think about it. All ya gotta do is be at the train station by 10:15 on Friday and know what time you want to be home. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it, tell Stacy about it. She can come too.”

“Can I bring anybody?” she asks.

“Ahh..I can pay for you and Stacy, anybody else has to pay their own way.”

“How much will that be?”

“Depends on where ya want to go. What ya want to do. Maybe $50 per person,” I tell her.

“That’s a lot.”

“$10 for the train, $10 to eat. Couple of bucks for the subway, things add up.”

“Ok. I got it,” she closes the subject. “Have fun at the concert tonight.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow. Tell you how it went.”

My thoughts go through the little black book in my head trying to come up with at least one or two I could even have the possibility of getting with before next Wednesday. While scrounging through the fridge for some lunch I thought of a few. 

“Hey, I’m leaving for the Army next week and wanted to spend time with you before I left,” that could be a good line, that might get some notice. Couldn’t hurt to try. Right?

After lunch I go through a drawer in my very small desk in my bedroom to try and find any of these phone numbers. Tara from Plainfield who I went out with when I lived there in 1986. Pam from South Plainfield who was the girl I lost my virginity to. Christina and Casey who I had my first experience with. Tracy's neighbor, Helen who used to go out with Mike (although he said he never got past second base with her) to name a few. Spent a lot of time on the line with 411. Made a few calls. Left some messages. Let's see what I dig up in the next week. 

I was all psyched up by the time five o'clock rolled around. Was on the stoop when my mom pulled up in her Dodge Colt. I was a bit freaked out when she was getting out of the car. “Aren’t you driving us to the Arts Center?”

“I’m tired…you can drive there.”

“I can take the car!” I was shocked.

“No. You can drive there and drive by some place I can get something to eat.”

This wasn’t expected but I could work with it. I jumped behind the wheel and buckled up. On our way to Mike’s house I asked, “what would you like to eat?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Wanted to tell her ‘you got about 6 minutes to figure it out’ but knew better. Then I started to name places that were close and quick. I started with the places with drive-thru like McDonald’s, Burger King, White Castle and Wendy’s.

“It’s too hot for that,” she said, even though the A/C was on in the house and the car.

“How about the Colonia Sub Shop? I know how much you like them.”

“I don’t know.” I was sick of counting the times I’ve heard that phrase in the last 48 hours from females.

“If you wanna go to the sub shop, I’ll treat!”

This got her attention. “Ok. We can do that. Don’t forget your still giving me $20 and paying the tolls to the Arts Center.” I was just happy she made up her mind. We actually pass the sub shop on the way to Mike’s. He is ready when we get there and hops in the back seat.

“Hey, Mike. We’re gonna go by the Sub shop on the way. Let’s get one and split it.”

“They won’t let us bring it into the place.”

“We’ll wolf it down before we get to the gates.”

Unfortunately, everyone and their brother seemed to have the same idea that night. Was trying to play it cool knowing the show didn't start until 7:30. By the time we got onto the Garden State Parkway it was almost six o'clock, still quite a bit of rush hour traffic to deal with.

Over the Raritan River bridge and through the Raritan tolls which were only $0.25 back then. It's only about 10 miles past the tolls to the Garden State Art Center which has its own exit, number 117. At exit 117 there was a line of exiting traffic. It figures. 

“At least we're waiting in the air conditioning and not out in the hot air,” Mike says when he sees my frustration. I've known him for five years and he knows me well by now. 

Once off the highway the slow line goes under the Parkway but this is where we cut out. I see a sign at the far end of the underpass pointing toward Parkway North. I pulled to the left and we're alone on an onramp to the highway. Perfect! I pull over and put the car in park. 

“Why are you stopping here?” Mom asks not believing her eyes.

“You just go up this ramp and you’re back on the parkway heading home.”

“What do I do. Where do I go?”

“Just go north. When you’re on the bridge, you want to be on the second to the right most lane and follow the signs for Route 9 north. The second traffic light you come to will be Avenel Street. Make a right.”

“I know where Avenel Street is,” she gets defensive. 

Once she’s in the driver’s seat and ready to go. “Here’s a quarter for the toll.” I already gave her the $20 at the sub shop.

“Don’t know what time I’ll be home. Don’t wait up.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and close the door. We stand by and make sure she merges onto the highway ok.

At this point I have no idea where to walk to. “Let’s just walk along side the line of cars,” Mike says. We do just that. We find that I pulled off the cue at the perfect spot. If we had gone any further, we would have been trapped and would have had to pay for parking which is bullshit cause there is no other way to get to the facility but to drive on the parkway! (This was changed later on but it took 15 years.)

We walk right past the fee collectors who look at us ‘like where did these guys come from’. Us holding our sandwich in a couple of sodas. We find a bench just before the ticket takers line and enjoy our sandwich. 

“Ya know the food inside is a rip off. This was a good idea. Both taste and value,” Mike reminds me.

We passed through the turnstiles just about 7:00 o'clock which is great. Way too late if we were on the lawn but we had real seeds. This gave us time to hit the bathroom and browse the T shirt booth Before finding our way to our seats. We are two seats off the aisle and when the show started they remained empty. 

The lights went down right on time and the crowd goes wild. The first band up was the Del Fuegos, a band neither Mike nor I had ever heard of. 

“Hey, when I was dragged to the Madonna concert there was a group I never heard of as the opening act called the Beastie Boys,” I tell him.

“Yeah and Jimi Hendrix was the opening act for the Monkeys,” he reminds me. “These guys may be big one day soon!” (They weren’t.)

We knew none of the songs but we got into the groove with a few thousand of our closest neighbors. The first intermission came and we decided to wander around some. I brought a pencil and some paper with me and had printed out some business card size strips with my name and number on them to give to girls. Of course, when I have such things there is no need for them.

We get back to our seats and plenty of time for the second act. The Georgia satellites, who surprisingly started with a 15 minute version of their only two hits, ‘Keep Your Hands to Yourself’ and ‘Battleship Chains’, just to get the audience all worked up. But then played God only knows what for the next half an hour. We joked that real fans would have bought their record and probably would know these songs. We tried to casually turn around to try and spot folks singing along but we didn't find anyone.

Our neighbors finally showed up as they played their two hits again at the end of their set. I end up talking to the couple during the intermission. 

“We only were interested in seeing Tom Petty, so we skipped the opening acts,” they said.

We played it up. “Wow, you missed some amazing bands. The whole place was jumping. I’m going out and buying these bands’ records tomorrow.”

Tried to make them feel foolish. Don’t think it worked. We should have been schmoozing them for a ride home, we later discuss. If they had enough money to pass on 2/3 of the rock concert. I needed these guys to be my friends.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers came on next,  the place went wild which was a lot of fun to be in the midst of. We were not super fans but we knew all their hits, of which they played all of them. Nobody was in their seats. Everybody was up and moving around even me who can't dance to save my life. 

the show ended just past 11, we join the crowd in exiting the facility period on the way in we scouted out the pay phones and made a beeline to them. Mike called his house and we knew it would be at least 1/2 an hour before someone got here. We figured out the best place to wait was at the bottom of the offramp from the southbound Parkway. No way we could miss them coming there. There's no other way to get here. 

We move slowly, killing some time period walked along the end of the parking lot because everyone was going crazy trying to get out. Even so a minor Fender Bender. Everybody should be happy why were all the drivers acting aggressively? 

Mike stepfather came and we hopped in. We were able to avoid the parking lots and zipped up the same ramp my mother used earlier period Mike stepfather Hank was interested in the show and asked a lot of questions about all the things I did from my nail legendary list. This show was actually the finale. Every event an activity that I had set out to do in the early spring was done. I felt really accomplished, maybe even more so than graduating high school or turning 18. They dropped me off at home just after midnight. There were some messages for me. Some of the girls I called earlier called back. I went to bed happy. It was a great evening. 

WEDNESDAY, JULY 8, 1987

My mom woke me up before leaving for work at about 8:30. Told her about the concert and getting home about 12. How I had nothing on the agenda for today which is good because it was going to rain. 

After she leaves, I take my time and have breakfast. Revealing the list of the girls who had called me back was interesting period who to call, what to say, who didn't call back, lots of things bouncing through my head.  When the plan was coming together in my head, that's when the phone Rang. It was my United States Army recruiter, haven't heard from him in months. Maybe it was still last year? He told me that he would pick me up on Tuesday at about 5:00 PM and take me to the hotel where I'd spend the night and get an early start with my “Army Career” on Wednesday morning.  I guess i should have figured out this was coming or even have reached out to him. This set some things on the calendar. My time was even more limited than I thought only an hour prior. 

Instead of calling any of the girls on my wish list I called my mom.

“Make no plans for Sunday or Monday. I’m taking those days. And if anyone wants to see you on Tuesday, they’ll have to come and see you at the house. I’m gonna tell my boss I’m taking off on Tuesday,” she said. She had already taken off on Monday because she was working the following Saturday.

Now I was down to today, tomorrow, Friday (when I planned to go back to New York) and Saturday. I mulled over this while in the shower. How can I make this work? Wasn't the whole point of the list thing to do everything I wanted to do. Hadn't last night's concert finished it off? Then why was I feeling that time was running out when less than 10 hours ago I was feeling so accomplished? This makes no sense. 

Well still in my bathrobe I got onto the phone. Mike: busy signal. Tracy: no answer. Stacy: still a lot of I don't knows. Ugh! Then I start calling the girls that called me back last night, even calling some that didn't.

“What ya doing tonight? How about tomorrow? Want to go to New York on Friday? Busy Saturday?” Was having no luck whatsoever. 

Eventually Mike got back in touch with me. He was going to his grandmother's on Saturday but pledged to come over on Tuesday. He suggested that I have a pizza party and spread the word and see who came by before 5:00. This I thought was brilliant. I called my mom on her lunch break about this and she agreed. So that was settled. All I had to focus on was the next few days. 

At this point thought about calling Stacy and saying, “Hey, I’m coming over to kiss you,” and see how she reacted. Maybe tomorrow?

I spent the better part of the rainy day making phone calls and doing laundry. Had to try to make something happen and time was running out. Didn't seem to get anything done but hopefully put some things in motion. Tried to share the news of the pizza slash going away party with some. Wonder how that is going to turn out? 

THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1987

Another morning where my mom wakes me up when she's just about to walk out the door at about 8:30 or so. I hadn't told her about going to New York tomorrow or of the idea if I could borrow her car and go see the Rocky Horror picture show at the Middlesex malls in Piscataway on Saturday night. 

Coffee and breakfast in the weather report. Today would be mostly sunny with all the rain gone overnight period tomorrow will be about the same, a hot and muggy mid July day in the New York city Metro area. Quite typical. By the time their 930 came around I decided that I wasn't going to spend the rest of the day waiting by the phone. I'd be out by noon someplace. Ain't gonna spend the day sitting around. Did enough of that yesterday. 

Got onto the phone Anne had absolutely no luck reaching a single person that I tried to reach out to. Which was frustrating as hell. At 11:30 left the house and went to Stacy's. She didn't answer the door when I knocked. 

First place I went to was, the local corner store. They had crappy coffee and expensive items but it did have a whole selection of newspapers. On Thursday there was a new issue of the weekly Village Voice, a New York paper that was home to many things on the far fringe of society that wasn't in the mainstream daily papers. One of the main things I was interested in today was the “Cheap Thrills” pages, that listed and promoted activities and events over the next week that cost $0-$5 per person. Hopefully there was something going on tomorrow. I was growing in the opinion that I was going to be going alone. In a weird way, I was looking forward to it. I’ve only done it a few times before alone and then it was with a specific activity or event in the plan.

One of the first times I went alone, my mom and I were at my Aunt Betty's house in Elmhurst Queens. I was 14 years old. There was going to be a grand opening of a Crazy Eddie’s Store in Manhattan that day. For some silly reason the dayglo yellow Crazy Eddie’s T shirts were all the rage. They gave them out at the grand openings only. You couldn't even buy them. Of course, I had to have one, like it was vital to my existence. 

“Come on, mom. We’ll already be in the city. It will just be a subway ride from Aunt Betty’s. She can come too. Then you can give the shirts to me and I’ll have three…no purchase is required. Everybody else has one…”

Drove my mom nuts the whole drive to Aunt Betty’s house. By the time we got there I had given her a headache. When we walked in the house, the first words Aunt Betty heard were, “I don’t want to hear anymore about it. I’m not going to Crazy Eddie’s for any t shirt.”

“What’s all this about?” Aunt Betty asks.

“They’re giving away those silly yellow Crazy Eddie t-shirts in Manhattan today,” mom says.

“Oh, I see those things everywhere,” Aunt Betty said. “Where are they giving them away?”

“59th Street, between first and second,” I say.

“Oh, that’s just over the bridge,” and she point, not like we could see the Queensboro Bridge from her kitchen. Then she pulls out her change purse and pulls out two subway tokens. 

“Just go down to Queens Boulevard, cross over by Macy’s and get on any ‘M’ bus. That will take you over the 59th Street Bridge, a 15 minute ride, tops.”

I’m blown away. This had never even crossed my mind. I turn to my mom, who looks relieved that she’ll be free from me for a while. 

“Take Aunt Betty’s phone number with you. If you’re gong to be longer than 2:00, cal.”

I was set! A quick visit to the bathroom and I was ready to go.

“You could even walk back if you want,” Betty adds. “You’ll see what I mean when you’re on the bus. It’s a straight shot over the bridge, right down the Boulevard.”

About a minute later I'm out the door and walking the three blocks to Queens Blvd. I'm excited as hell. I'm gonna get to go to New York by myself and get a Crazy Eddie's T shirt. All my friends will have gotten theirs from Jersey's grand openings but mine will be from the City. 

Soon I'm waiting at the bus stop on the Blvd at the corner of Grand Avenue. What felt like forever but was more likely no more than 15 minutes the ‘M’ bus comes. I climb aboard and end up having to stand but kept my eyes out the windows. Before long we are climbing up the ramp that will take us up and over the bridge, which was called the Queensboro Bridge officially but referred to as the 59th St bridge by most. (In 2015 it was renamed the Ed Koch bridge as a memorial to the former mayor.)

Once over the East River, I spot the store with its very long line on the other side of the street. I pull the signal cable and work my way to the door before we even stop. Exiting the bus, then crossing the street, I join in the back of the cue. It takes a good half an hour to make it to the front of the line. I happily claim my t-shirt and then browse the shop, which has mostly tvs. I also look through the record and tape selection, even thought the only things in my pocket are a quarter and a subway token.

I exit the store noting the time, then the idea comes to me as I begin walking toward the bridge, I could put the t-shirt on, button up the jacket, walk around the block and get on the line again!  I feel like a cross between Lex Luthor and Albert Einstein. With no one to tell me that this is a bad idea, I do it.

Once I’m again on the back of the line, it only takes about twenty minutes to get to the front this time. I score a second t-shirt and quickly leave the store. I don’t want to have to open my jacket to show off my first shirt. Now that it’s inching closer to 2:00, I do what I think will be the quickest route back to Aunt Betty’s, that’s the subway which is only a block away. I had spotted it while going around the block to get in the line again. It’s a short ride under the river and in just a few stops I’m off and a few short blocks walk to Aunt Betty’s. I walk into the house and proudly show off my two prizes. Knowing that I did it on my own made it all the more better. This was a good and memorable day.

The Village Voice wasn’t offering up much in the way of suggestions. Things were either some God forsaken place or not on Friday or something I had absolutely zero interest in, which was kind of disappointing.  Was thinking about taking the subway out to Coney Island but I just went to the ocean last Saturday. I put a quarter into a pay phone and called Tracy. Surprise of surprises she answered her phone.

“Yeah, about tomorrow in the City….what would we do? Where would we got?”

“I told you we could do whatever you want. You were the one who said, ‘my folks never let me go into the City’. Well now is your chance,” I replied.

“But what would we do?”

“If you got no ideas, I got plenty. Just tell me what time you want to be home and I’ll get you there in plenty of time.”

“I don’t know.” I was getting quite sick of hearing that phrase over and over this past week.

“I’ll come over to your house now and we can talk about it,” I suggest.

“Nobody’s home,” which is what I’d hope she would say.

“I’ll call a cab. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“No, don’t do that.”

“I could walk and be there in an hour or so.”

“I’ll meet you someplace. How about the Bowtie Pool?”

“Are you a member there?”

“No, not this year but my mom is. She works for the Township. So it’s real cheap for her.”

“She didn’t get you a pass?”

“Why waste the money when I’m leaving in mid-July.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

This is getting me nowhere except to frustration-ville.

“Did you want to go to Rocky Horror in Piscataway this weekend?”

“Can you get the car?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “Did you want to go?”

“Hell, yeah, but I don’t think my parents would let me not at midnight with a guy they don’t know.”

“Well, you never know if you don’t ask.”

“Ok, I’ll ask tonight but they’ll probably say ‘no’. Then they’ll stay up all night to check to see if I snuck out.” Which makes her crack up.

“They let you stay out until two in the morning last Saturday,” I remind her.

“Yeah, but I was on a church trip and they picked me up at the end.”

“Some church trip, where some guy feeds your cigarettes and beer all night.”

She laughs some more. “Yeah, that’s true. I got the big cup on my shelf right now.”

“Like some kinda trophy?”

“Something like that,” she says in a coy way.

“Let me come over and visit it.” It was worth a try. This could get me right into her bedroom.

“You’re gonna come all this way….to see a cup?”

“And you….mostly you.”

“Awww that could be nice.”

“I’ll call a cab. Be on my way in a few minutes.”

“No. Slow down boy. Not today.”

“If not today, then when?”

“I don’t know.” That phrase again.

“This may be your last shot.”

“I know but let’s see what happens tomorrow and Saturday.”

“

Don’t forget the party at my house on Tuesday.”

“I got that.”

“What should I do now?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to come to your house.”

“Don’t do that!”

“Well, meet me somewhere.”

“Where?”

“How about someplace with A/C? How about my house?”

“No. Listen, I promise to ask my mom about Saturday night.”

“What about tomorrow, 10:15 at Woodbridge Station?”

“I’ll call you tonight and tell you about both. I promise.”

“You’ll call me by when?”

“My mom will be home at six. So between six and nine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Ok. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

So now I'm standing in front of the convenience store with no more information than I had before. I go back in and buy a Gatorade and stand in front of the open cooler door for a moment. It had to be 90 degrees or so. I decide to walk up to the very small Avenel library not the one my mom worked in. Was hoping that none of her former coworkers would recognize me. She often said people get shifted around from branch to branch a lot. She had even worked in five or six in the five years she's been there. 

There was only one clerk there today and I didn't know who he was. More importantly he didn't say anything when I brought in my drink. I did have to ask him where I could find a map of New York City. He gave me a big one and I unfolded it on a table and stood over it like a battlefield general in an old war movie. What could I do? Where could I go? I asked the clerk if he had a Yankee schedule and he found that for me, but it showed that they were out of town this weekend. So, it's back to the map. What to do on a hot day in New York? The Coney Island idea came up again but the idea of sitting in a possibly unairconditioned subway car for an hour each way over the streets of Brooklyn didn't seem so appetizing. 

Then it caught my eye. It was on the map, well, not actually on the map but its cover. It was an image of the World Trade Center. The map unfolded in such a way that the cover was facing up. Went to midtown 2 weeks ago.  Maybe I could go to downtown tomorrow? Then my attention turned to the actual street map. What things were downtown to check out? Near the World Trade Center was Battery Park city, a neighborhood my family was thinking about moving to once upon a time. Beings my father was working for the New York state agency they, when I was about eight or nine, had been considering making it compulsory that all employees be state residents. So, about that time we spent several weekends in that neighborhood which at the time was brand new having created it by the landfill at the Riverside. 

The state had claimed the land from unused piers on the Hudson River waterfront and filled it in beginning with the earth that was dug to build the foundation of the World Trade Center. Also downtown was the Seaport district but on the East Riverside and only a couple of small blocks away. Wall Street was there with its National Museum of Finance and Federal Hall across the street. There also was the Staten Island Ferry terminal. The list was filling up in my head. 

Got some scrap paper from the library clerk who was very happy to have someone here. Made a bunch of notes. At one point brought the map over to the copier and dropped in a quarter. Now I had a map, albeit, in black and white that I could write on. Still I knew that I wouldn't be caught looking at it while on the streets. Don't want to be mistaken for a tourist. 

The Statue of Liberty ferry dock was also close by but if you want to go there especially if you want to go to the top of the Crown you need to get there early, like the first boat in the morning. Otherwise you'll be there all day waiting in line. I have been to the top of the Crown with the shelter the previous fall. The first time I ever went up all the way. It had been closed off for a few years as it was being restored in expectation of its Centennial in 1986. So that was not on my list. Going to the top of the World Trade Center was an option, an expensive one at that. Had been there several times before. The entire 107th floor was an observation deck you could walk 360 degrees around and see through the floor to the ceiling windows. And then take an escalator to the roof, this was the tower without the antenna. 

In that neighborhood was also a famous computer an electronics store J&R's. They also had a music store that not only sold records and tapes but also instruments and sheet music. So now I had a day all worked out. When I speak to the girls today, I can tell them about my plan. 

So, I packed up the map and put everything away. Thank the clerk as I walked out into the summer heat. Got tomorrow all worked out. What about the rest of today? As I was approaching the Avenel train station, I had a bit of luck. A train was approaching not only that it was stopping. Something that only happens 10 times each weekday. What were the odds of that? I ran up the steps to the platform and got on when the doors opened. Didn't have any destination in mind, had better think of one quick. How much money did I have on me? The train only went about 3 miles and stopped at the Woodbridge station. I hopped off there before the conductor had gotten to me to buy a ticket. Saved me a dollar or so. Could use that money for lunch! 

The Woodbridge train station sits on a viaduct that at one point passes over Main Street. In an era before shopping malls and big box stores, this was a major shopping and business district. Almost in a suburban Norman Rockwell-esque kind of way period now it was a sleepy has-been place. There were even streetcars here going back to the early 20th century. 

There were a few shops still open, including San Remo pizza, my favorite local pizza shop. Going down the steps onto the street it's another hot July day in Jersey. It's only a block and a half to the pizza place and the sidewalk is shaded by the two and three-story buildings lining Main Street.

Into the store I'm popping onto the naugahyde stool at the counter, seems that I was the only customer in the shop at the time. The guy behind the counter tossed a slice into the oven for me An bens me a soda from the fountain. Not quite what I got at Rays 2 weeks ago. But still the best pizza in the area that i found. Too bad their business went down at least 30% when Domino's opened a few blocks away two years prior. 

Munching down my slice nice and greasy New York style. My head started to drift about my youth growing up in this town. How many times I marched down Main Street in a parade in the cub scouts or with the grammar school or on Saint Patrick's Day with the American Irish society. This wasn't such a bad town to grow up in. There were places to go and things to do and when we lived in the Port Reading section, on the block in front of our house was the side of the bridge incline where everyone came to sled in the winter time. On the block behind our house was a huge area of woodland that was undeveloped because it sat between a freight train line and the New Jersey Turnpike. As a kid I would explore them with my neighborhood classmates in all seasons and weather. Brought home lots of mud and a few ticks over the years.

I was a Cub Scout, Weeblo and Boy Scout. Played Little League baseball in the spring and summer, flag football in the fall and basketball in the winter. Tried karate, took music lessons (Alto sax, piano, drums). All the things kids should try. 

When I became a teen and had a lot of hard times after my father died and my mom got sick. Lots of memories in this town. Even had my first sexual experience a few blocks from where I sat eating today. 

That's something I could do. Walk up to Christina's house and knock on the door. 

“Hey, I was over at San Remo’s and was reminiscing and thought about you. How are you doing?” Fuck it, I got nothing to lose.

Finished up the soda and threw my things in the trash. Even left a whole dollar in the grease spot on the counter that had soaked through the paper plate.

Back under the train station, making a left on Rahway Avenue, then a right onto East Green Street. It was the last house on the right. That I remembered.

Now I walk up the steps and rang the bell. Nothing. Then I knock. Nothing. A look around showed that people lived here. I still had some scrap paper and the golf pencil from the library.

“Christina, call me. Charlie Sullivan 636-5571.” She didn’t call back when I left the message the other day, but this wouldn’t hurt.

Went back to Main Street but had no destination in mind. The ‘commercial district’ was only three blocks long and there wasn’t a whole lot of stores to browse through. There was one old fashioned style shop that had been converted and on the left side was an auto parts store and the right was hunting, fishing and camping. Even bought a fishing license here once, that I never used. Might have been in 1984 when in the 9th grade, was given a chance to go to the Spruce Run State Park where there is a reservoir where there is swimming, boating and fishing. Wanted to go with my friends fishing, so got a license. It rained and we never went. Wasted $15.

There was an old FW Woolworths when I was very young. I remember once eating at the counter but it closed many years ago. Maybe ten? Now it had been converted to a fruit and vegetable market. There was a cheap Chinses Food shop next to a relatively fancy Italian Restaurant. There was also a local video store and on the last corner a Martial Arts Supply store named ‘The Striking Fist’ which always struck me as odd but I guess they had enough customers to keep them going. They’ve been around for quite a few years now. Two banks, post office, doctors’ office, lawyers’ office, a barber shop, a church, city hall….all of your basic things you find on a typical Main Street in Anytown, USA.

Now up on the corner, the traffic light at Amboy Avenue, went through the whole strip in less than ten minutes. Still had no idea which way to go. Luckily there was a pay phone. Called Mike first and thankfully he answered. “I’m going to meet some people at Woodbridge center,” he said.

I agreed to meet him there. Instead of calling for a cab I walked back down to the train station where the taxi company had their office.  The radio dispatcher was in there, that would save me a quarter! I felt so smart, but I could have saved even more money by walking the 20 minutes to the mall and still I’d be there before Mike.

At the mall I wander slowly toward Burger King, where I worked for one day once upon a time.  Looking for any familiar face in customers and store employees. Not having any luck at all.

Mike and his three oldest brothers show up. Mike being the oldest in the family. We buy sodas and join the ‘crowd’. I’m generally talking to everybody, not that I knew anyone. Seeing who may wan to go to New York tomorrow. If there were any available females whom I could possibly get with before my departure Tuesday.

Still had my Village Voice News paper and my New York notes in my back pocket. At one point, was even looking through the ‘singles’ listings but would have to call a 900 number to connect with any of them. Can’t do that from a pay phone. Certainly wouldn’t do it from home.

It was getting close to 4:30 and the one person whom I knew that showed up was leaving and he said he could give me a ride to the library. My idea was to take mom out to dinner to butter her up some in hopes that she would let me take her car out Saturday night.

My mom liked Denny’s for some odd reason. There were plenty of local diners in our area. So I bought dinner but didn’t get a ‘yes’ on the car thing. She said she’d think about it, which is as good as a ‘no’. Don’t have the time or money to be buttering her up much more than that.

Got home before six in case Tracy called. Played on the computer while waiting for the phone to ring. It finally did just before seven.

“I told you I would call,” she said.

“Thank you for keeping your promise.”

“I spoke to my mom and now I’m under punishment for asking ‘such a dumb thing’ as she said.”

“No shit? Punished for asking for something? That’s the toughest thing I’ve ever heard of. Not like you asked her if you could go on the pill!”

“Leave it to my mom for going way overboard on shit.” I wanted to tell her about some of the stuff my mom had done in the past but I kept quiet.

“So, how long are you punished for?”

“Till you leave on Tuesday at 5:00.”

“No way?!?!”

“Yes, way. Only can leave the house if its on fire she said,” and laughed. “Then she may think I started the fire just to get out!”

“Sorry to have gotten you in trouble.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m not. If it wasn’t this it would be something else. That’s just her way.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, she thinks you’re on some quest for a wild time before you go. Looking for excitement and sex.” Her mom wasn’t far off the mark I guess after all!

“You’re gonna miss a good time tomorrow and Saturday.”

“Well, there is a slim chance that I may sneak out tomorrow, in time to get to the train by 10:15.”

“That’s on you. Don’t be saying I forced you to do this.”

“I know, not like I go out and party, get drunk or high and stuff. I’m still a virgin, mostly.”

“Oh really? Tell me more!”

She laughed, “Not today, horn ball.”

“How about tomorrow?”

She only laughed some more. I told her about my plans for tomorrow and she said she would call Stacy and try to get her to go with me tomorrow and Saturday.

Made some calls myself to try to find someone to go with me tomorrow. Even tried to call Christina but got no answer any of the times. Went to bed disappointed.

FRIDAY, JULY 10, 1987

Got up early, the coffee was done before mom got out of bed.

“What are you doing today?” she asked.

“I don’t know but something!” Which made her laugh. I ate breakfast with Howard Stern on the radio, like I often did. Sometimes he had guests on that were doing events that day in the City, like autograph signings, but nothing was announced that I heard for today.

As soon as mom left I got onto the phone.

Tracy: “I think my mom has Helen’s mom keeping an eye out for my escape. I’ve seen her face in the window a hundred times already this morning.” Tracy lived next door to Mike’s ex-girlfriend, Helen, that’s how she recognized me on July 4th.

Stacy: “I don’t know.” I’ll try her again just before I leave, feels like I’m beating a dead horse there.

The more I tried, the more I was sure I was going alone. If I was going to walk to the train, I would have to leave at about 8:30-8:40. But I’d do enough walking today, so I called a cab and asked them to pick me up about 8:50 for a 9:10 train. So I fibbed on the time.

One last call to Stacy. “Be at my house at 8:45, a cab is coming to bring us to the station.” I didn’t ask, just stated matter of factly. Maybe that would work? Then the idea struck me, if I didn’t want to look like a tourist in the business zone, I should wear a suit. Somehow this sounded brilliant in my own head. Rummaging through the closet I pulled out my only suit. It was still in the dry cleaner’s bag. Hadn’t worm it in a year o so when I went to a wedding.

I pulled out my one nice dress shirt that I worse for my graduation. Pulled a random tie from the odd ball selection that I had. Somehow my dad’s tie collection didn’t get donated with the rest of his clothing when he died. He wore a suit and tie to work everyday in the 60s and 70s and as a blind person on top of that, he had an odd ball selection of them. I had to look up in a book I had on how to tie the necktie.

Socks and shoes and I was ready to go. Still had 15 minutes to spare. Wish I had a briefcase to carry my stuff with me. Instead I shoved all of my notes and things into my jacket pocket.

I was ready! Turned down the A/C and locked the door behind me. Walked to the far corner which was only two doors down from us. I would see the cab coming while I kept an eye out for Stacy who I really didn’t expect but still hoped for.

Just before 10 the taxi came and Stacy did not. I got to the station in plenty of time to get a cold Coke classic at the QuickChek before climbing the steps to the station. It was now 10:10. Give minutes for Tracy. Ten minutes for the train. There were a few others on the platform but it looked like they were headed to the beach. The trains coming from New York stop here on their way to the shore: Asbury Park, Long Branch, Point Pleasant to name a few. That’s why it’s called the Coast Line. Tried not to keep peeking at my watch which was back to 100% after its encounter with the salt water. Kept my eyes looking down the tracks. They were very straight at this point and could see several miles, as the viaduct crossed over the town, even the Turnpike just a bit further down and all the way into Perth Amboy, the next municipality to the south of us.

Was enjoying my cold Coke while it was still cold. My mind playing with the idea of posing as a Yuppie for one day. Maybe a black suit wasn’t the brightest idea I could come up with on another hot humid, muggy July day. Nothing could be done now without going home, changing and waiting another hour for the next train. I was locked in for today. Yuppy-ville or bust.

Then the train came into view. Its big head light very visible even in the direct sunlight. It was an electric train, not a diesel, so there was a good chance that it was air conditioned. I moved towards the North End of the platform because the leading car was usually the smoking car. There was no Tracy. Even though this was not a surprise it was still disappointing period finishing my soda and tossing the bottle in the trash, the train came onto the station.

Move forward an got in on the lead car, which was for the smokers, plus it had the bathroom and the A/C. It was like hitting the trifecta! There were plenty of seats, so that was not an issue. Looked around but couldn't find a discarded newspaper. This became a trend that I keep for a long long time period 

I paid cash for the one-way ticket to Newark, wasn't locked into coming home the same way. Wanted to be as flexible as I could. Still had my notes and a pen and pencil in the pocket of my jacket. All things were looking good, except that I was alone, but that was OK just not preferred.

The stations came and went and in 20 minutes after leaving Woodbridge we were pulling into Newark Penn Station track number one. Exiting the train and crossing the platform and paying the fare for the PATH train and going through the turnstile, there was a train waiting there. I got on and found a seat. 

In a few minutes we waited there, a few more people came on board. With a casual glance around I surveyed about 20% where in business attire, guys wearing ties in ladies in the equivalent. 60% were casual even I feel of those wearing shorts. The rest were very touristy, some even carrying luggage or backpacks. These folks may have gotten off the bus from Newark Airport. There were various plans over the years to get a train station at the airport but it hasn't happened yet. That wouldn't happen until 2003. 

An older lady, maybe 50, sat next to me. Her suitcase was between her knees. 

“Welcome to New York,” I said.

“Oh, thank you,” she said.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Vancouver.”

“BC? How long is that flight?”

“It’s supposed to be five hours but we were delayed due to weather somewhere. Should have been here three hours ago.”

“Well, at least you missed the rush hour.”

“Yes, guess I could count that as a blessing.”

“How long will you be in town?”

“Ten days,” she didn’t elaborate.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

She pulled a slip of paper from the outside pocket of her wheeled bag. “Millennium Hilton,” and gave me the Church Street address.

I was kind of impressed because I knew it was a very expensive, high-end, business-class hotel. “Oh, that’s right across the street from the World Trade Center.”

“That’s good because I have meetings there all next week.”

I give a chuckle, “makes for a short commute.”

The train doors close, then a moment later we start rolling out of the station and then high over the Passaic River. We were on the right side of the train, so I turned around to look out of the window. Then I point to the Silver Towers of the World Trade Center.

“You’re almost there,” I tell my neighbor.

She swivels and looks out of the windows.

“When I saw them from the Aero-plane, I was quite relieved. This was a long journey.” Her Canadian accent coming out. We stop at the Harrison stop.

“You’re almost there, four more stops,” I had to peek at the route map on the wall. “Fifteen more minutes. You don’t even have to change trains.”

“How difficult is it to find?”

“Well, ya have to be careful to find the right exit to the street. Otherwise, you’ll be on the far end of the complex. I could help you out.”

“That would be appreciated. I’m quite ready for this portion to be over. Could not sleep at all on the flight.”

Soon we are in Jersey City, which is marked by going underground. At the Journal Square stop several people exit the car because it's the transfer station for the train that goes to 33rd St. Only about half the riders remain. 

My neighbor remained quiet period I didn't look but my guess is that she was nodding off. The train continues eastward but it's hard to gauge because all that's out the window is the darkness of the tunnel. 

At one point someone bumps into our knees while passing by. “Are we there yet?” My neighbor asks.

“Just about. We have to be out from under the river by now,” I tell her. That’s when the train takes a noticeable curve to the right. “Ok, we’re here.”

She swivels to look out of the window. “How can you tell?” She’s looking into the darkness when suddenly the station comes into view.

“Under the river the tunnels are straight. When we get to that curve, we’re there.” The train comes to a stop and the passengers start exiting. “World Trade Center. End of the Line.” And I stand up when the space clears some.

My neighbor gets up also. We exit. She's dragging her suitcase. We follow the crowd to the escalators to the next level. Then I began to look for the signs. One points and says Church Street. I wave to my friend and we go to the right. Passing through the turnstiles she manages to pull her bag through without any issues. Next, we come to a great Bank of escalators, that take us to the shopping Plaza at the Trade Center. Kept looking toward the ceiling for the signs that would lead us to Church Street. 

We finally come to the doors that lead us to the sidewalk. I point across the street to the flat glass tower of the hotel. “There you are.”

She was very relieved and maybe even heard an audible sigh. We work our way to the crosswalk and wait for the traffic light. That's when she turned around and looked at the gleaming silver towers behind us, then as most people do, leaned back some Azure neck goes as far back as account. She even Shields her eyes with her free hand. 

Then the light changes. “Ok, here we go,” I say, just to make sure she’s with me. She gets back upright and turns back around as we begin to cross the street.  Stepping up on the far sidewalk and turning to the left. 

“Well, you finally made it,” I say.

“Thank you very much for your assistance,” she says.

“Enjoy your stay,” and I nod. She nods back and walks through the revolving doors of the hotel. 

I thought it was great that I was able to help someone out like that. Felt like a million bucks! Then I turn around. Ok, I say to myself. Now what? End up crossing the street, back to the World Trade Center, and go back into the shopping concourse. Thankful for the A/C. It must be some office workers’ lunchtime because the place is getting crowded. Working my way through the whole place, peeking at all of the shops and eateries. Then my brain says, ‘Another day, another mall’ which strikes me as hysterical.

Cruising the mall for that’s what it was after all, but being in a suit, made me blend in with just about everyone else. Maybe this was a good idea after all? I stop at one shop and buy a Coke Classic, which feels exceptionally cold in my hand. Then I spot a folded newspaper on top of a garbage can. I maneuver myself toward it and snag it as I pass by. It ends up being a Wall Street Journal. No big surprise there.

Getting to the eastern end of the complex, I find myself just going with the crowd, then on the sky bridge that crosses over West Street and into the World Financial Center. Another ultra-modern complex of office buildings is right across the street from the Trade Center.

Once through the bridge, people go this way and that. Now where do I go? Toward the right and down the escalator some doors are manned by security guards. Don’t expect to get into there today, suit or not.

Then I find myself in a great, cavernous space with palm trees and a very high arched glass ceiling. This was unexpected! Never would I have imagined a great indoor and air-conditioned plaza/park in the middle of this office complex! There are gaggles of people standing around. There are a few benches, all taken up by lunch-takers. There is a great staircase that goes up toward a glass wall. I can see the Trade Center across the street. There are a whole lot of people sitting on the steps. So I go and join them. Have to climb a lot of steps to find an open spot. Planting my butt down and surveying the scene in front of me, while opening my soda, this is not something I would have seen in New Jersey. People going this way and that. The palm trees and out the back can see people on the riverside and outdoor promenade. The Hudson River was behind them and had found it on my own. No person or guidebook is required. How cool was that! I felt like Christopher Columbus! But around me were a thousand other folks for whom this was an ordinary day. That let quite a bit of air out of my balloon, but still, I was pleased. I flipped through the paper trying to find a guide for weekend activities. I was having no luck. Maybe I should keep an eye open for a Daily News or a Post?

When I was finished with the soda, I stood up and walked up to the top of the Grand Staircase. Looking out of the windows toward the World Trade Center, this was a sight to behold. Too bad I didn’t have a camera!

Also found a side staircase, with no one sitting on it. So it was a quick hop down the steps to the ground floor level. Turning toward the riverside, I walk through the palm tree plaza and come to a map/directory of the whole complex. This ‘room’ was labeled ‘The Winter Garden’. Would have to try to remember that. One thing stood out in the directory, a gelato shop. Guess this place was too fancy for a regular ice cream shop or even a ‘shoppe’ (which is only an excuse to charge 30-70% more). Maybe I’ll come back after the lunch rush.

Pushing through the doors and back out into the heat, but it isn’t as bad with a breeze blowing in from the water. Walking all the way to the rails that keep one from walking into the river. Over a mile away was Jersey City. Somewhere beneath the river, and beneath the river bottom even, is the tube that the PATH train traveled through to get me here.

There were a few boats on the river and to my far left was the Statue of Liberty. Then my mind started wondering. How far does this promenade go? Looks like it goes all the way until it curves with the island itself to the left. Only one way to find out, I guess?

My feet carry me south. Till I come to a map of the area. This is called the Hudson Esplanade and stretches all the way down to Battery Park. How cool was that? So I go along the river on my right and the Battery Park City neighborhood to my left. Didn’t remember on what streets were the apartments we were looking at a decade earlier. Don’t know how we were exploring this neighborhood and somehow missed the riverfront? Was I remembering this correctly?

There were a whole lot less ‘suits’ and more families the further along I got. This wasn’t so surprising. Farther from the offices and deeper into the residential areas, took a good 15 minutes to reach the park, following the curve of the island. Another undiscovered gem, I’m coming into many surprises today!

Once into Batter Park, walked past the Statue of Liberty ferry ticket booth and the Castle Clinton Monument, then the ferry dock. Next, it’s walking past the War Memorial, which had my father’s uncle’s name on it, along with thousands of others.

Kept walking down and came to one of my favorite playgrounds when I was a little kid. Don’t know why I enjoyed it so much. It’s not very big or elaborate, with not much in the way of rides to play on. 

Now I come to the Staten Island Ferry terminal. Should I take a ride? A peek at my watch showed it wasn’t even one yet. I could go over and come back in an hour….tops!

So I enter the building and pay the quarter fare. After a visit to the bathroom, it’s only a few minutes until the great doors open and a whole crowd moves onboard the funny, yellow-orange boats. I take a seat on the starboard (right) side and look out the window. Soon we are under way and the windows are open on both sides which allows the water-cooled breeze to fill the cabin that isn’t air-conditioned.

It’s always pleasant to ride this way. Then I think. Maybe I should have joined the Navy instead of the Army? Well, it’s too late to do anything about that now. I’m shipping out on Tuesday.

The harbor and the Statue of Liberty sail by. This is always good, even in bad weather. That’s why these boats are this color. So they can be seen even in horrid snow and dense fog.

After the 25-minute trip, we reach the St. George terminal Everyone exits, so I’m gonna have to pay another quarter to go back to Manhattan. Once in the terminal, I spot the entrance for the Staten Island Railroad which uses the same equipment as the City subways but is considered a different system. There is only one line here along the eastern shore of the island. I had never actually been on here before. So I go up to the turnstile. They take regular subway tokens. (Don’t remember how much tokens cost in 1987) I go over to the manned booth and buy four. They can always be handy to have.

Then I pop one into the turnstile and pass through. A few other people are walking, so I follow them. I have no idea where I’m going at this point.  I enter the waiting car, which thankfully is air-conditioned but it’s losing currently to the warm air coming in through the open doors. This doesn’t last long. The doors close and the train heads out. The ride is fairly unremarkable. It’s mostly on the surface except for portions early on that are elevated. For a while, we rode in some kind of trench but never were we underground. Wasn’t really a subway at all. The train got emptier and emptier as we went. I was all alone by the time we were three stops from the end at Tottenville. Like I had the whole thing to myself. This was great!

We got to the end of the line and the doors opened. I get out onto the platform. Now what do I do? I could see the Outerbridge Tower from here, knowing that I was just across the River from Perth Amboy, further south than my home in Avenel.

One of the platforms is a pay phone. There were stickers on it advertising for taxis. Just as a goof, I call one of them.

“Hi, I’m at the Tottenville Subway Station, how much is it for a cab over the bridge to the Woodbridge Center Mall?”

“Thirty dollars,” the voice says, “Ya want a cab?”

“No, not today. Thanks,” I reply and hang up. That wasn’t such a bad price the more I thought about it. Wasn’t about to do all this just to go back home now!

The train is still there with its doors open, so I get on it. That’s when I noticed another discarded newspaper. This was a New York Post! Sweet! I sit and begin to leaf through it. Then the doors close and the train heads back to St. George. It takes 25 minutes to go back. That’s coincidental because the ferry takes 25 minutes also.

People start to board when we get further along. All in all, this was a pleasant diversion. Once back at the terminal everybody exits. I follow the crowd, carrying my two newspapers. Then I notice something odd. They are dropping tokens into the turnstiles to EXIT the system. Ain’t that backward? I ask a fellow traveler this.

“Yeah, this is the only place like this. The whole train is free except if you get on or off here at the ferry terminal. The whole system is ass-backward. We get treated like second-class citizens here in Richmond County. They keep talking about seceding from the city but I’ll believe that when I see it.” 

So I reach into my pocket for another token. This time to get out! Then have to pay another quarter to get back on the boat. Thankfully didn’t have to wait long for the ride back to Manhattan.

Back across the harbor to where I started, it was now after 3:00. Took a lot longer than I had anticipated but that was ok. The boat ride gave me a chance to develop a plan. There was even a large map of lower Manhattan, complete with bus and subway lines marked on it. This was a big plus! Now I had to find the bus stop.

Exiting the boat on the street level, I know where I want to go. There is a cue of buses. I go to the front one.

“You’re going up Broadway, right?”

“How far do you need to go?” the driver asks.

“Just to City Hall.”

“Yeah.” And he waves me on. I put my token into the far box and get a seat near the exit door. Just a few moments later we start on our way north, passing Battery Park on the left and the Old Customs House on the right.

I wasn’t planning on going all the way to City Hall, just to Fulton Street, three blocks shy of City Hall Park. I pull the stop cord and exit at the right corner. Two blocks to the east was an amazing bookstore that was a joy to browse through. The Strand had a tagline of ’10 miles of books’. There were two stores with lots and lots of shelves. Maybe there were 52,000 feet of books between them?

It was cool and quiet in here, two things that were welcomed this hot day. Checked out the computer books and magazines then the photography section. When passing the travel section, pulled out a map of Missouri and found Ft. Leonard Wood, which was out in the middle of nowhere. It bordered the ‘Mark Twain National Park’. That I found odd. At least the place was well north of the Ozark mountains along the Arkansas border. That was a plus.

Before I knew it, an hour had passed. Wanted to keep off the streets as much as possible during the rush hour. Especially on a summer Friday. Everyone wants to get away for the weekend.

Back on the street and used the side streets to go to my next destination, J & R Computer World, at the corner of Park Row and Ann Streets, across from the foot of City Hall Park. Here were four floors of computers, parts, accessories, and software. A geek’s paradise. Of course, I wasn’t going to be buying anything just to use for a weekend. Didn’t even know if I would be permitted to bring the computer to wherever I would be going. Wouldn’t even know where that will be until Thanksgiving time. A long way from July 10th. What kind of electricity did they use in Korea anyway?

Spent another hour in here before moving a few stores down to J&R Music World. Here there were oodles of records and tapes. Even instruments and sheet music and all their accessories. It was very cool to flip through the sheet music catalogs and see some of your favorite songs. Even if I couldn’t read any of it!

By this time I’m very hungry. Was thinking of heading back to the mall under the Trade Center, just three blocks away. But why would I want mall food? After a while in the music shop, left and went across the street to City Hall Park. There were some hot dog vendors but I was hoping for something more than that. Moving through the park closer to City Hall, I look out for eateries on either side of the park. There’s gotta be some place around here. There is a big college to my right, Pace University, there’ll be places near there for sure.

So I veer off to the college area. Sure enough, there are some food trucks near the back of the main building, on the side street. Even in the summer, there are students here. One truck had gyros, which is always a tasty treat. I got in line and ordered one. When the guy asked me what I wanted to drink, I saw the beers and got one. The guy didn’t think twice about it. I went over to an area with a few picnic tables. Here, in a suit, I was outta place but I didn’t care. I was just hungry. The students didn’t even pay attention to me. I loosened my tie and dug in. Trying carefully to avoid getting anything on my clothes. The cold beer was a very nice addition to the meal. All I could think of was ‘Dear Tracy, wish you were here’.

Wasn’t long until all this was gone. All I was thinking of was some dessert. I immediately thought of the gelato place in the Winter Garden. It was now approaching 6:00, surely the place would be a lot clearer by this time?  I gathered up my trash and put it into a can. Put the two newspapers, that I had been carrying around all afternoon in there too.

With the tie wide open, the top button on the shirt undone even unbuttoned my jacket. Walked with my hands in my pockets back across to City Hall Park, then crossing Broadway and then one more block west was Church Street. Got into the A/C of the Trade Center, which was so welcomed. I stopped at a shop and got a Yoohoo, just to stay cool an extra few minutes. Then got to cross West Street but not using the sky bridge.

The Winter Garden was a lot quieter now. As I worked my way to the gelato shop, I noticed that there were families here now, and very few suits. That was just fine. There was a line at the frozen treat place but that was to be expected. It took me a few minutes to look at the menu. Of course, I was going to get chocolate but which one? There were several!

After getting a large cup of the cool, sweet treat, I walked back to the great stairs which were very empty, at least comparatively with when I was here about 7 hours prior. About halfway up the steps was a large, circular landing, maybe 25 feet across. Crossing this, then climbing a few more steps up, this is where I sit my butt down.

After the first couple of spoons of the creamy, chocolate goodness, I take another look around. The sun was still keeping this place lit very well. Wonder what this would be like after dark? What times does this space close? Then I start thinking of some of my favorite indoor spaces in the City; Madison Square Garden, the Sackler Wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where the Egyptian Temple of Dandur stands, the Nave of the Cathedral of St. John the Devine, the main Gallery of the Guggenheim Museum. There were a few, but this place was very different. The arched glass roof, the marble floors, the palm trees, these steps, the river on one side, the World Trade Center on the other. This was someplace magical.

Had to keep reminding myself to eat the gelato, my head was too busy thinking. A few more spoons and next I lift the paper cup to drain the dripping into my mouth. Miraculously I didn’t get any on my suit. I sat there for another few minutes taking in the vista. Of all of my favorite places here in my hometown, this may be the King of the Hill.

Standing up and taking my trash, I bounce down the steps. It was time to go. Wasn’t going to get much better than this. Taking the sky bridge back to the WTC, crossing over West Street, my thoughts turned to ‘don’t know when I’ll get back here’. That was a scary thought. Was Korea in my future? What after that? Can’t think about these things now. Gotta get focused on the big tasks ahead of me. My lifelong dream of moving into the City and working in an office high above the streets will have to go through Missouri and Virginia and maybe even Korea. But my heart will always be here.

The signs for the PATH were pointing forward. The stores were still open but empty. This is what I had expected at this point. Once the offices upstairs empty out, probably early on a summer Friday, this would be quiet. Wonder what time the observation deck closed? Well, that would have to wait until another trip. It was time to make my way back to New Jersey.

Down the great escalator bank and into the terminal, through the turnstile, following the signs to the platform of the Newark bound train, which was sitting there waiting for me. It had probably come from Newark and had its doors open ever since. There were plenty of seats, so that wasn’t an issue. Wasn’t long before the doors closed and we were in motion. Under the river and back in Jersey. The Jersey City stations came and went. Exchange Place, Grove Street, Journal Square, then we were out from underground. The sun was still up but inching closer to the western horizon.

What to do now? This was the question. I was still a little bit hungry and not quite ready to go home. Kept trying to work out ideas in my head as we rolled into Newark Penn Station.  Exiting the train and going down the ramp to tracks 3 and 4, would bring me back into my neighborhood, looking up at the monitor that showed the next trains. There was still half an hour for the next train to Rahway and Metro Park, and 40 minutes for Woodbridge. Then I went over to the large printed schedule, and had to check if the Woodbridge bound train was also stopping at Avenel. It wasn’t.

I go to the pay phone and call my mom. She answered.

“Hey, do you want to go out to dinner?”

“I already ate.”

Wanted to say ‘me too’ but held back. “Want to go out for dessert?” This could get her going.

“Ok, what do you have in mind?”

“You could meet me at the train station and we could go to Colonia Dairy Maid?” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m not ready to go. I gotta get my shoes on.”

“I’m still in Newark. I’ll get to Woodbridge at about nine. Park over by the Printing Press and watch for the train. I’ll come to you.”

“Ok. I’ll be there at nine.” Then she hung up. I went down to the main waiting room and bought a ticket. Had some time to kill anyway.

Returned to the platform to watch an Amtrak train bound for Miami that had pulled in. That was a long way to go on a train!

My train came on time and there were plenty of seats. On the train were some New Yorkers headed for a weekend at the Jersey shore. Right on time we pull into Woodbridge. From the high perch of the station, I could see my mom’s grey Dodge Colt in the parking lot of the Parker Press.

Early in Woodbridge's history, one of the first newspapers in the New Jersey colony was run by James Parker on this site. There was a very small museum, one little shack really. The township did events there at the little park and it had a parking lot that was about half the size of the property. Could park maybe 25 cars.

Down the steps and to the car. My mother had already moved herself into the passenger seat. She was surprised when I tossed the suit jacket into the back seat.

“Why are you all dressed up?”

On the way to the ice cream parlor I explained my “Yuppy for a Day” idea. Explained my new finds, the ferry and SIRR Ride, the Strand, J&Rs, the food truck at Pace University, and going back to the Winter Garden for gelato.

“You had a full day. How did you plan all of this?”

“I didn’t really. I got notes and a map in my pocket that I never even pulled out. Things just kind of unfolded.”

“Things sometimes work out that way, when you’re open and flexible,” was all she had to add as she drank her shake. We both ended up getting shakes. 

“Don’t forget it’s you and me on Sunday and Monday.”

“Yep, got it. What do you have in mind?”

“Don’t know yet.”

When we pulled back in front of the house, she asked, “Do you still want the car tomorrow night?”

“Sorta but don’t want to go alone. I’ll make some more calls tomorrow. See if anyone wants to go.” It was an honest answer anyway.

Once inside the house, emptied my pockets. The trip notes went into the trash, and never even came out of my jacket pocket. The suit would have to go to the cleaners, it was all sweaty. The next time I end up wearing it would be my wedding in two more years.

Contemplated making some calls but just plopped down on the couch in front of the tv and called it a night.

SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1987

Was sleeping when Mom opened my bedroom door. “I’m going to ShopRite, when I beep the horn, come and bring in the groceries.”

‘When will that be?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t even gotten to the store yet,” and she marched off. How much groceries can she need? She’s going to be alone for the next several months at least!

Slowly I get out of bed and make a pot of coffee (my mom doesn’t mess with the coffee drip machine, she does instant in the microwave when she’s alone.) I eat some cold cereal and wait for my brain to kick in before making any decisions. The TV comes on and the weather lady says it's going to be another hazy, hot, and humid day. The three H’s of summer in Jersey. Typical. Flipping through the channels there’s not a whole lot on. Also typical. Did some reminiscing of yesterday. It was really a great day. I was still glowing. That’s when the phone rang. It was Tracy!

“I tried to call you about noon yesterday.”

“Ah. You knew I was gonna be on the 10:15 train into the city.”

“Yeah, I know but still I called.”

“Ok, so what was the noon news yesterday?”

“Nothing was boring as hell. Being grounded and shit.”

“That’s just too wacky to comprehend. Grounded for asking for permission for something.”

“Yeah. I saw this movie a while back. One person said ‘It’s often easier to ask forgiveness for something than to ask for permission for the same thing’.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Still going to the midnight movie?”

“I don’t want to go alone. Got any ideas for me?”

“What about Stacy?”

“Whenever I ask her a question all I hear is ‘I don’t know’. Sounds like a broken record.”

“I’ll make some calls for ya, about all I can do.”

“At least you got A/C. It’s been hot out.” I then told her about my trip to New York. She was impressed.

“So, let me get this right. You took a cab to a train to another train, then a boat to another train just to take that train back to the boat, to get on a bus to go to a couple of stores where you didn’t buy anything. To take a train to another train then have your mommy take you out for ice cream. Do I have that right?”

“Something like that,” we share a laugh.

“Wish I coulda went with you. Shoulda went to New York on Friday. Then asked to go to the midnight movie on Saturday.”

“Well, next time. Maybe.”

She told me she would call me back later. My mom still got the local paper delivered every morning. Often there would be a week’s worth stacked up still with the rubber bands on them. The Friday paper had the weekend section, which had all of the activities, events, and even the sports and movie listings. Going through this didn’t give me any ideas.

I left the couch when Mom beeped. I carried the groceries in and she put them away while I showered.

“What are you doing today Adventure Man?” She asked sarcastically.

“Got no idea,” I admitted.

“You need a down day. Your days will have enough excitement after Tuesday.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I say.

“Well, tomorrow we’re going to the movies and Monday to the pool.”

This was her big idea, I had to clear my calendar for?

“Um, what movie are we going to see?”

She told me. I’d never heard of it. Also typical. The movie listing was still on the couch. Had to find the theater where it was playing. We picked a time. We would go to church, then lunch, then the movie. Sunday with mom.

“Are you going to Rocky Horror tonight?”

“I want to but can’t find anybody to go with me.”

“That didn’t stop you yesterday or when you went to Philadelphia.”

“That’s true. If I go or don’t it’s no big deal. I’ll make some more calls later, see who wants to go.” This was one of the disadvantages of spending hardly any time in the local schools in the past five years. Had very few local friends.

Tried to call Christina. No answer. Tried Stacy. She still didn’t know. Was tempted to just walk down there and ask her mom myself! More calls led only to more frustration. Eventually, I stopped and played on the computer for a while. Was so bored I even took a nap!

Mom woke me up and asked if I wanted to go to the video rental store, Palmer Video, which meant that she wanted to go and didn’t want to drive. So I took her, had nothing else to do. Dropped the suit off at the cleaners on the way. Mom also treated me to Wendy’s on the way home. She liked the chili but the only local outlet was on a dangerous section of Route 1. She tried to avoid driving down it and wouldn’t even consider slowing down to turn there.

Stayed home and watched movies and ate microwave popcorn. At eight or so reconsidered going down to Stacy’s but I hadn’t shaved yet today and wouldn’t make a good first impression with her mom. So I just stayed home and watched Saturday Night Live.

SUNDAY, JULY 12, 1987

Got up and had the coffee made before mom got up. Showered and shaved. Went to her church, St. James in Woodbridge, then to the Rio Diner two blocks away. When leaving the church I started to the diner and Mom said, “The car is this way!”

“Mom, the diner is right there,” and I pointed.

She relent4ed but she kept worrying that the church was going to have her car towed. After lunch, we went to the movies, nothing remarkable, then went home. Had the A/C off while we were out. So while the place was cooling off we went out to Colonia Dairy Maid for shakes again. Was a quiet day but that was just fine.

MONDAY, JULY 13, 1987

On the way to the pool, we went to the hardware store. Mom thought she may need something and wanted my help with it before I went away. I think it was a ladder.

The Bowtie Community Pool was the center of just about all of my summers since I was about 5 years old. It wasn’t far from our Port Reading house and if I could walk on the train tracks about a 20-minute walk from our current home.

As a Township run place, it was basic and clean, very well maintained. It made lots of money for the town and they kept good care of the Goose that laid the Golden Egg. We swam and I kept putting on sunblock, paranoid that I would get burned before deploying.

Mom showed me off to the ‘house fraus’ that spent their summers planted on the wooden Adirondack chairs provided. ‘This is my son. He’s leaving for the Army tomorrow’ must have heard that 20 times that afternoon.  When we were about to leave, an idea came to me. I got a quarter and called Mike.

“Hey, what is your ex, Helen’s address on Old Road?”

“Why? Are you going to see her?”

“No, I’m gonna pop in on her neighbor.”

“That flirty girl you were telling me about?”

“Yeah, fuck it. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

He told me the address. “Mom, we’re gonna take the long way home.”

“Yeah, how long is this long way?” She was justifiably skeptical.

“Just via Seawaren. Then we can get some Chinese food.” She was satisfied with that.

I find some scrap of paper and a pen in the car. Was already before we left the pool. It was a five-minute drive to the house. I pull up and keep the car running so Mom can sit in the A/C. Even though I don’t expect to be more than two minutes.

Walking up to the door, I still don’t know what to say but that doesn’t stop me from ringing the bell anyway. She answers the door with a shocked look on her face.

“What are you doing here?”

Without invitation, I open the screen door and let myself in. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I want to have your address before I do,” and I hand her a pen and paper.

She is speechless enough to bring them over to a table to write. She then comes back to me. I put my arms around her and give her a kiss before she can even say anything. Then I pull away.

“Thanks,” and hold up her address. I close the door on my way out. She is silent and shocked.

“That was fast,” mom says.

“I told you it would be.” We go to the Chinese takeout place and take it home. The whole time I’m squirming in my shorts to call Tracy. But I wait til after dinner.

“What did you do that for?” she asks.

“Wasn’t going to wait for you to do it,” I say, “aren’t you glad I did it?”

“Well, yeah. But don’t tell anyone.”

“Ok. When I write you, will you write me back?”

“Of course I will.” We talk a while before saying goodbye.

TUESDAY, JULY 14, 1987

Slept in as long as I dared, would be the last time for God knows how long. Mom made a full breakfast of eggs and bacon and toaster waffles.

“Tell people to come at two. I’ll order the pies then and they’ll be here about 2:30.” She had that all figured out. She had gotten soda and chips and such on Saturday, along with paper plates and napkins.

“Ok, how many people do you think might come?” I ask.

“I was going to ask you that.”

“Mike. Maybe his family. Beyond that maybe one or two.”

“Ok. We’ll play it by ear. If there’s leftover pie, Mike can take some home with him.”

I play on the computer hoping my phone will ring. It doesn’t. Noon comes and I shower and shave. Then I start making calls telling people that the doors open at two and the pies will be here at about 2:30.

My bag is packed, and the computer is shut all the way down. There was nothing left to do but wait. I take a walk to Stacy’s and knock on the door.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you leaving soon?” not the greeting I was expecting.

“I was going to come get you, bring you to my going away pizza party.”

“I don’t know.” Her standard line.

“Come over, just for a bit.”

“Listen, Tracy told me you kissed her.”

“Yep, but I still want you to come to the party.”

“What about the kiss?”

“You wouldn’t kiss me. Have been trying all week to reach out to you.”

“Yeah, I know,” finally found something she does know!

“Please come to the party. I really want you to.”

“Oh, ok. I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Let me fix my hair and stuff.” Wow, this was unexpected!

“Ok, see you then.” And I walk home, a bit lighter on my feet.

Walking in the door. “Mom, my friend from down the block is coming over in a bit.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She didn’t take her eyes off the tv.

I pour myself a soda and wait on the patio. I’m surprised as hell when Stacy shows up at my place.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” I say.

“I said I’d come,” she pleads.

“Yeah, ya did but I only dreamed it was going to come true.”

She walked over to me as I stood up.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Good. I’m glad,” and I embrace her. “I’m going to kiss you now, 'cause I don’t know if we’ll have a private moment later.”

She looked up at me with wide eyes as if to say ‘Did’ he say he was going to kiss ME?! The look I returned told her ‘Oh yeah and here it comes’. I lean down and put my face to hers. She was more shy than even I had pegged her for. She didn’t pull away, she kissed me eagerly but I had to take her arms and put them around my neck. After which she pulled me even closer to her. Eventually, I pull back some.

“Mmm, that was worth waiting for,” I say with a smile.

She greedily pulls my head back to her face. I guess I passed the test? So I go in for seconds, putting my hand on the small of her back, and pressing her torso into mine. I think she liked this also which is good cause I sure did. We break off and she lets her arms down and takes a half a step back.

“Thank you,” I say to break the silence.

“Oh, and thank you,” she finally replies.

“You coulda had a whole week’s worth of that ya know?”

“Really?”

“Yeah and maybe more?” She smiles and blushes but doesn’t look away. “Ya want some soda or something?”

“Yeah, it’s hot.”

“The temperature or you?” She blushes even more. “My mom is inside with the A/C.”

We go in and introductions are made. I poured her a soda. We sit at the dining room table as Mom continues to watch TV. Had thought about bringing her into my room but wasn’t sure how my mother may react, better safe than sorry. Stacy was a bit giddy and could hardly sit still. Then I began to think, ‘Was this her first kiss?’. I bet it was. She gets to be the first one to write her address on a pad I had out just for this purpose.

“So it will be like these movies, where the soldier keeps in touch with his sweetheart back home through letters?” she asks.

“Yeah. Sure,” I say quickly. “Don’t know how much time I’ll have to write, at least initially, but I will write. I’m bringing 30 stamps with me.”

We do some chit-chatting until Mike and his family show up a bit after 2:00. Mike, his brothers (16, 14-year-old twins, and a 4-year-old), his sisters, and Mike’s stepfather, who was in the Army himself in 70’s. Our little place was getting crowded with 10 people in it. My mom orders four pies from San Remo’s. Mike goes into my room to show his brothers something on the computer. I go onto the patio to smoke, knowing I won’t be having any more after tomorrow for a long time. The idea of giving them up doesn’t cross my mind.

The pies come and everybody eats. I’m keeping one eye on the clock. Counting and holding on to these last minutes as the seconds click toward 5:00.  A bit after 4:00 the phone calls come in. Aunt Betty, Bob, my former girlfriend Tara, who just walked in the door from Maine, and even Tracy called but ended up talking to Stacy for 10 minutes. My mom’s work friend, Nancy, and her 13-year-old daughter, Bethann, whom we went to Florida with last summer came by at 4:30. They ended up being the last arrivals. When the clock got to 4:45, I went to the bathroom and then I went around and said goodbye with hugs to everyone, one by one, with promises that I would write.

Went out onto the patio at the end, and I was now ready to go. Mostly everyone followed me out. That was a bit unexpected. I already said goodbye. What else is there to say now?

I gave Stacy an extra hug. Maybe she wanted more but that wasn’t going to happen. A bit after five the Army car shows up. A recruiter sergeant, not my recruiter, is driving. He just smiles, doesn’t get out of the car, just waits with the window down. I give my mom one last hug and kiss and I wave to everyone else as I climb into the back seat. And unceremoniously we pull off.

There were two other recruits in the car and we got onto the Garden State Parkway north. “Where are we going?” someone asks.

“The Army puts you up in a hotel tonight and you get an early start in the morning.”

“Is this the same hotel where we took the test?” I ask. Last August I went through the procedure, went to a crappy hotel, and took a big test, like the SAT in the evening. Then went through a physical at the federal building in the morning, after passing both they offered me a job and I signed up.

“Yes, the Lincoln Hotel in East Orange,” he said.

One thing about that place, it was a crazy place. Don’t know if the Services knew it or not but the place was filled with drugs and hookers catering to guys who were signing their life away. It was the first place I had ever seen crack being used. When I ended up moving about three blocks from there in 2009, the hotel was all boarded up.

When I got there, was lucky enough to get my own room. Ate dinner with the crowd in the dining room. Talked to some guys also shipping out tomorrow. Strangely there were no girls. Maybe they were kept somewhere else? Some guys said they had been here most of the day already and had gotten beer. So I said I stop by and have one or two, which I did. 

When the hookers came in and the pot was being lit, it was my cue to leave. Don’t these guys know they gotta pee into cups in the morning? I ended up in my room. Took a shower, masturbated, and fell asleep watching the baseball All-Star game. Sad but true.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 15, 1987

The phone woke me up at six am. A recorded message that I was to bring all my belongings to breakfast. That was from 6:30-7:00 in the dining room and would be leaving from there. 

I showered and shaved, packed up what little I had in the gym bag, went down, and ate a large buffet breakfast. Went to the lobby, then got on the bus waiting to take us to the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) in the federal building in downtown, Newark.

They did a mountain of paperwork, took the same physical exam I took last August, and got sworn in. Then I was given the tickets for our group going to Ft. Leonard Wood. There were three of us. We ended up going to Basic and Advanced training together and they both were in Germany, just a few doors down from me for the next three years.

We were told to go across the street and catch the NJ Transit bus to the Airport Terminal C, which ended up being only a 15-minute bus ride. We were there plenty early, the flight wasn’t till six. About 5:30 I called my mom from a pay phone and told her I was getting ready to fly to St. Louis.

“Oh. I’m so proud of you,” is kinda what I expected to hear.

We got on the plane and I got a window seat on the right side. If we were taking off to the south I could see Ideal quite clearly, but we took off to the north and I got to see Manhattan very clearly. I waved goodbye to my hometown, not knowing if or when I would ever be back.

I survived Basic Training, barely. I wrote everyone whose address I had. Most wrote me back. I got one letter each from Tracy, Stacy, and my ex, Tara.  Got a three-day pass for Columbus Day when I was at Ft Lee, VA. Took the midnight Amtrak to Trenton and got on a local train to Metro Park where my mom and Mike met me. We went to White Castle first thing. Walked from my mom’s house in my Class A uniform to Stacy’s. She gave me a hug and explained that she was taking AP classes in school and had no free time to write. Took an early train back Monday ( Columbus Day) morning.

Came home from AIT in November. Was assigned to additional training but the class ended up getting canceled. We were held up two extra weeks, and thought we would be stuck there for Thanksgiving but the Tuesday before they called my name. They gave me my orders that I would be given leave beginning today and would have to report to the Philadelphia Airport on December 17th to go to Germany.

I rushed to the travel agent’s office. “I need to get out of here today. I’ll fly into Newark, LaGuardia, JFK, Philly, anywhere close to Jersey.” The clerk understood.

“It is the day before Thanksgiving Eve,” she told me while typing into her computer terminal. “Ok, I have you booked on the 7:30 flight from Richmond to Newark but this is what you should do. Get to the airport as soon as you can (it was already about noon), and go to the gate. After you check in tell them you want to go on ‘standby for the 5:30 flight’.”

I rush back to the barracks and pack, turn in my blankets and sheets, and catch a cab to the airport. I’m there by 3:00. I call my mom at work and tell her the news.

“If I don’t get on the early flight, I’ll call you at work by 5:00 and you can pick me up at 8:30. If give comes and there is no call, just leave work at 5:00 and come to the airport.” I gave her the flight and gate numbers. 

I get a whole bunch of change and call Mike and tell him the news. I also call Stacy but there is no answer.  I do get onto the early flight. End up sitting in First Class, which I think is appropriate because I’m wearing my Class A uniform. Get to Newark without any problem. Mom meets me at the gate. We wait at the baggage claim for my big green duffel bag but it doesn’t come. I start to freak out. All of my Army Issue things are in there! I go to the office near the carousel and they check on it. Turns out my bag will be on the 7:30 flight! We end up eating dinner at the airport while waiting. I pay for it with Traveler’s checks. We get home after 9.

Thanksgiving Eve, I get up early, as I’m now accustomed to. Mike comes over. I call up the Shelter and end up talking to Bob. He volunteers to pay for another New York trip before I go to Germany.  I also offered to take the one person at the shelter who’s got no place to go for Thanksgiving to our house. I’d see Bob when I got to pick him up the next morning.

I walk to Stacy’s but she’s getting ready to go to her grandmother’s for Thanksgiving. She promises to call me no later than Monday. She doesn’t.

I end up visiting a lot of people on my leave. We do another NY Night but in winter it’s a lot different. We go to the top of the Empire State Building, Mike and his friend, Art, Bob, and a friend of his. We do the Laser Show, Ray’s Pizza, and Rocky Horror. This ends up being the last time I ever heard from Bob. We lost touch after that. He was the one who gave me the idea for the to-do list in the first place.

I ended up taking Tara out one night on my leave. She was really flirty but nothing ended up happening. I didn’t even get a kiss. Twenty-five years later I found her on Facebook. Took some reminding her of who I was before she accepted my friend request. She was married with a special needs daughter and lived in Connecticut. 

Eventually found Christina on Facebook in 2010 or so. Soon after she accepted my friend request, I asked her whatever happened to Casey, and she unfriended me.

I also never got back with Stacy or Tracy. The next time I was back in the USA was three years later and I had a wife and baby by then. 

I kept in touch with Mike but didn’t see him again until 1998. By the time I got back to Jersey in 1990, he had fallen in love, and had moved to California. I wrote him and called once in a while when I lived in Idaho but never made the trip to San Jose to see him.

In 1998 he came to his mom’s house in Jersey for Christmas. His sister just had a baby. Mike’s wife had passed away from complications from uterine and cervical cancer. By the time they found it, there was nothing the doctors could do. He called my mom, who was still listed in the phone book and had the same phone number since 1982 anyway. I went to pick him up and he stayed at my Edison place for the weekend. By then my second marriage was over and it was looking like I was going to jail for something I didn’t do. I was in a very dark place and had chosen to skip Christmas that year. We tried to cheer each other up and without booze. We didn’t do too well.

I caught up with him again on Facebook about 2009. He was living in Colorado and was remarried. He never had any children. I had run into his high school girlfriend and prom date, Helen, at the ShopRite about 2003. She was still working there. She started as a cashier while in high school. We hung out a few times and had sex a few times. She was the only woman who ever asked me for anal sex. When I messaged Mike about that, he called me immediately. He had never even gotten past second base with her.

Helen did tell me that Tracy’s family had moved away in the ’90s, she didn’t know any more than that. Strangely enough, besides my mom, the only person in this story whom I was actually close to after all this was the daughter of my mom’s friend, Beth Ann. I ran into her at the Edison Rocky Horror Show and soon we were both ‘big wigs’ there. At one point I was the Producer and she was the Cast Director. She had met Katie, my first wife, and our son, Justin in 1990 and was at the hospital when Nicole was born and was in Christine’s bridal party in 1997. I was at her 2005 wedding.

I made one trip to the Shelter after 1987, in 1993 after I returned from Idaho. I went in the middle of the day and there were no residents there. They began to bus them off to the local high school for classes. About 2010 I looked them up on Facebook. They were having a fundraiser for something. I donated $100 for a ‘brick’. Guess they had a building project. Almost went by there a few times when my daughter, Nicole lived about two miles down the street, but never did. Still have a recurring idea about going back there to talk to the residents but it usually ends with the kids asking the staff, “Who is this old fart?”