Have Wheels, Will Travel.

Last weekend I went to a wedding. It was the first one I had been to in a while. Previously I was on the part of the friend cycle of showing up for "happy divorce drinks" or "baby is coming/baby is here showers". A good old fashioned wedding was a refreshing idea especially with my oldest friends involved. I thought maybe that seeing two people completely in love, sharing vowes in front of a packed house would lift my spirits about my own romantic situation. It actually did in a really round-about way that took not just the length of the ceremony and party but 24 sleepless hours and a death-defying journey.

I don't drive. At least not very often. The death-defying aspect of my story involves what some people do every day:
Turn the key and go. For me it was turn the key and hope that a full nights sleep + chamomile tea + 2 cups of coffee + yoga produces a driving friendly safe effect of valluum and smack. Try breathalizing that one. I was surprised to be in Times Square picking up my rental car at 7am in such a state but even more surprised that Marie at Budget Rent-a-wreck pointed me towards a car least likely to be mine. A fire engine red Mustang muscle car. The kind you might imagine a blond in a neon bikini stretched accross... "come hither and take me... not you dork, the guy in back of you". Nope, nobody in back of me and I had the keys.

I was lost roughly 10 minutes out of the Lincoln tunnel. I blamed mapquest. I cursed. I drank more coffee. I asked for directions once I found myself back in New York... and not on my way to Lambertville. That's what you do in life though.
You get lost, feel stupid, take some substace, get directions and get back on track. I made it to the wedding on time!
A mustang really is a fast car ya know.

Fast forward to later that evening, not because the wedding wasn't fun but because it was fun and I'm telling the story of
near hysteria. Near hysteria which happend on my own time - 4:30am. Earlier in the day I drove some friends back to their bed and breakfast called "the wishing well" some distance away from the Lambertville Inn, site of the wedding.
I left the car there thinking it was safer than a lot. It didn't seem far on foot at 2pm on a pretty autumn day after lunch but
at 4:30am dark, on empty rural streets, freezing cold? Not even close. May plan which I successfully carried out until this point was to crash in Lynne and Carrie's room for a few hours, walk to my car and drive back to Manhattan by 7am.
The hour of 7am was so important because if I returned the car late Marie at budget rent-a-wreck was going to take my wallet, max out my visa on late fees and maybe cut off a toe for good measure. Plus I had this rediculous idea that not getting the car back on time and in one piece would signify my inability to handle an adult situation. Not to mention my inability to masculenley master a muscle car.

At 4:30am I was lost again. No idea which direction to walk in. Why didn't I write down directions to the wishing well?!
Where is my mustang? Where am I? Crap, there goes my little toe. Aren't there any cops in this town? or semi-drunks on the street? or nice loitering gang members? This isn't Brooklyn! Eventually I saw a minivan. I ran up to the driver (I must have looked like an artsy crack-junkie) and asked directions to the wishing well. "Uh, what?". He didn't know but I did suddenly remember that it was near a WaWa. To you non-philadelphian's WaWa is a SevenEleven with a canadian bird as a mascot. The minivan was packed with fresh bagels. The driver told be that he'd take me to WaWa (now 5am) but I'd have to make some deliveries with him first. Okay, I thought to myself, he's delivering bagels to local restaurants alone in a van how dangerous could that be?.... It didn't take long for me to realize I knew the real answer to that question.
However, after some drop-offs he did as he promised and I found myself at WaWa. I set out towards the directon I thought maybe was correct. Nope. Walked in another direction. Nope. Ran in another direction. ut-oh. I'm lost in the dark-on tiny rural streets-at 5am-freezing-too far from town to have any clue about where to go. I even tried trespassing on property thinking oh, I just don't recognize the house in the dark, I'll get closer and maybe see the mustang, it was fire engine red. But everytime I got close to a house the motion sensor flood lights snapped on. Oh no the Nazi's! O.k. not
the Nazi's (I'm only half jewish anyhow and the wrong half at that). The last thing I needed was to be a suspect in a petty breaking and entering senario. Or to have a shot gun pointed at me... "what are you doin out here city boy?.... bring out the gimp".

A funny thing happend to me while running around out there in the dark. I can do this. I will be fine. I became calm.
I even started to laugh a little. I experienced sudden euphoria. If I was really dramatic (yeah, shut-up I know I am),
I would have exclaimed something like "I feel so alive!!!". But like I said, I am half jewish and a more appropriate exclaimation would be "I feel so not self-depricating!!!". I also realized I needed to see someone back in NY as fast as possible.
A loved one I had unfinished business with. That's a whole other story.

I walked back, urgh, to the WaWa and asked a fireman who happend to be there sipping coffee for diretions to the wishing well. He knew it! He know how to get me there! and I did! I found old tangy, turned the key and launched in to outer space... by outer space I mean route 29 East.

Bad hip-hop and maximum volume on the stereo at 5:30am never felt more energizing. After all, "I felt so alive!!!".
I didn't even get lost. I ignored the speed limit, ignored the past few hours and ignored my uspset stomach which needed a bit more than coffee and the aftertaste of whiskey. Go muscle car, go!

I had "one of those moments" approaching the Manhattan skyline. One of those sublime beautiful moments.
Coming up the ramp before desent in to the Holland Tunnel the moment was perfect. A lionel hampton xylophone
solo was playing my soundtrack and the sun was just barley birthing behind the empire state building.
It was so fucking beautiful I even cried a little. Don't tell anyone that last part. I still love New York
and I still love someone else...

I returned the car at 6:59am near times square on 8th avenue. Marie was proud... or indifferent, I dunno I still
had my toe. The nasty, gritty porn part of times square is not what it used to be pre-Guilliani. But that morning it was.
With Times Square arguably the center of the free world as my backdrop I walked down 8th Ave. Along the way
I was propositioned by more prostitutes then there are in Thailand. "Hey baby, want a little fun?"... "no thanks but thanks for asking". I had business to take care of. Something felt new. I don't believe in fate but I do believe some things are already scripted, more like a movie. Rolling..... Action!