The Pastrami Wars: A NYC Picture Weekend

16 Jan New York 014

This past weekend, I traveled to New York with a friend to visit another friend.  The traveling friend was Evan Ponder, who was looking  to play; and the visited upon friend was Alex Reside, who was looking to spice it up. These are my pictures.

Baby on a train.

Me on a plane.

As soon as I got into town I tried to tag my name. Ran out of paint. And rhymes.

Blue Bloods was being filmed by Alex’s! I am told that this is a show on the television.

It can be really hard to live in a city. Nobody even has the common decency to cut ‘em down.

This is Moose on me as I was going to bed Friday night. Real cute dog. I woke up in the middle of the night with him humping one of his Pokemon toys on my back. Really, really going to town on it. I was unsure of what to do, so I just laid there and let him go. It took a while.

Still just cute.

This breakfast was good! The coffee was also served on its own very nice and fancy plate, which may have made it taste better to me than it actually was.

That’s a bridge. It’s not the Brooklyn. It may be called the Manhattan bridge, but I have done no research and don’t feel like checking.

This baby wanted to stop and play on the playground. Alex wanted to pose.

He had a great ride.

Brooklyn bridge. Not pictured: Kenan Thompson.

We stopped at a winter fest thing and put together a tent. We all won new hats for this. Mine was the most expensive.

Another contest, another hat for me… only. Technically I didn’t really deserve the hat; the contest was to get at least one ping-pong out of three into one of three boots that were matted onto a board and stood up vertically. I didn’t get any of the balls in a boot, but I did get one in a small little loop on the heel of the boot. It’s really probably a more impressive feat.

They wanted to turn their hats inside out and for me to take a new picture. There are also two hats on my head.

We all got one final hat for wearing a blue coat and taking a picture. Three hats on my head.

The site of the pastrami wars. Lost a lot of good batmen.

Times Square! Lot’s of lights.

Just a neat shirt.

He posed like that for a while.

Still just a real cute dog.

Clever!

Looks kind of creepy.

Bye!

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Baby’s Day Out Photo-book!

8 Jan Chicago Day 048

On Saturday I went into the city.

Wheaton: I missed the train I intended to take this morning so had to walk around a bit. I ended up at the library, but first walked through a small park directly in front of it. Wheaton’s parks are very strict.

I understand no Skaterz, I hate them too. But pets? Bikes? Roller blades? A sign 5 ft behind it got more specific.

Are regular skates OK then?

Train: Stopped outside of Oak Park. Saw a little dog running around its owner over and over. It was cute, but I like big dogs. Probably can’t make it out, but it’s in the middle. Dog was resting at this point.

Chicago: Walked along the lake. This is what it actually looks like

But this is what I saw

It’s Mothra and fire.

Field Museum: 

Walking into the dogs/cats relatives exhibit they give you a choice of which door to walk into. Easy decision. Sure, there is a lion on the cat side, but there’s a grizzly bear and panda (!) on the dog side. Go dogs!

I assume that you’re probably familiar with the hit mid-90′s film, The Ghost and the Darkness, starring Val Kilmer and Michael Douglas. If you are, then you probably know that the film is based upon a true story, and that the man-eating lions portrayed in the film have been on exhibit at the field museum for a really long time. The lions, which are pictured above, were portrayed as male lions in the movie though they are in fact female. Why is this?

When I first went to the field museum as a kid I ran around for hours trying to find these lions. They were so big and awesome in the movie with sweet adult Simba manes. When I found them, I was disappointed. No manes, still huge but not enormous, and no human remains were at their feet while blood stained their mouths. I imagine that when Val Kilmer went to see these lions in preparation for his role (he’s a method actor, I think) he had a similar reaction. Good for him. Nobody would have believed that two female lions could ever give Val any trouble. He was the best Batman ever. He had a shiny suit. He perfectly captured Jim Morrison’s pretentious douchiness. His name is Val Kilmer.

Note: female lions do all the hunting and are clearly the best, Val Kilmer is dumb. His name is Val Kilmer.

This mask in the ancient American’s exhibit will give me nightmares.

As will all of these.

He was a king in life, but who’s looking down on who now? Egypt!

Note: not a king as it turns out, just a random mummy. 

A dinosaur!

Dinosaurs!

Dinosaurs! Remember when there was just one The Land Before Time movie? And Littlefoot’s mom died? And all the other dinosaurs were orphans too?

So depressing.

Not a T-Rex but still a dinosaur!

With my ticket I got to choose between one of three special exhibits to visit; one on chocolate, one on dinosaurs, and one that must have been about gems or something because it was really boring and can’t remember it at all. I chose the chocolate one since it was ending in a day. It wasn’t as cool as I thought it was going to be, but I did get to take that picture. It’s chocolate that they’re working with, but it looks like poop. Big poop.

Not pictured:

Skaterz: I didn’t get a chance to take a picture of them, but they’re everywhere. Every time I go into the city on a weekend a bunch of random suburb skaterz get on the train, go into the city, and ride their boards around the loop while their one arty friend videotapes them. Sweet ollie, brah.

Crazy parents: At the beginning of the ancient America’s exhibit there is this winding hallway with screens on each wall. It’s supposed to represent Chicago during the last ice age, so it’s basically just a snow-covered forest at night with wooly mammoth’s walking around. I was walking through it when this family of five; a mom, dad, and three young kids came busting in behind me. The parents began by saying to the kids, “Look kids! Ice age!” They repeated this over and over and over.

Then, they snapped. The two parents started saying each others names, followed by “look, ice age!” I don’t remember their names, but I’ll call the dad Stan and the mom Jenny. It went like this:

“Look, Stan! Ice age!”

“Jenny, ice age!”

“Honey, ice age!”

“Jen, ice age!”

And they just didn’t stop. Kept going and going. They weren’t joking either, with complete sincerity Stan talked to Jenny like she was a little child and Jen did the same.

Stuff I found actually interesting: There have been 6 major extinctions, we’re currently in the 6th. It was neat seeing how Chicago was built up and the shoreline extended. Rich Victorians would wake up and drink shots of coffee. Much more.

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Three More Hours

30 Dec DSCN0130

There’s always been a lot of pressure to make it to dinner on time. I’ll leave Park Ridge today at 2:00 PM to go back home to Springfield. It’s a 3-hour drive so, theoretically, I should arrive at 5:00 PM. I like to take frequent stops though, so it could be pushed back as far as an hour or two. In theory, of course.

I’ll stop for gas, food, potty breaks; whatever. Definitely coffee, I get real sleepy driving.

When I told my parents my ETA, all they wanted to know about was what I wanted for dinner. They want to know because the general accepted plan is that I get home, say hi to the dog, my Dad says “Where we going to eat?” I say “Someplace with horseshoes,” and I’m back in the car again. This time it’s my parents’ car though, and I’m sitting in the back wishing I could change the radio or put on my headphones like when I was a teenager because that’s what you did when you were a teenager. So many 10-15 minute car–ride naps when I was younger.

I feel like this almost has to happen, that if it won’t I will be in trouble. I’m entering my mid-20’s and still feel like if I don’t sit down and eat dinner with my family then, I don’t know. I can’t eat for the rest of the night or something and won’t be allowed to go play with my friends.

There are just so many things that I’d like to do. I’d like to stop at ISU, get a caramel latte from the Coffehound (the best), walk around the quad again, go knock on the doors of my old apartments and ask if it’d be OK if I looked around one last time, stop at my grandparents house and say hi, go off script and drive through a town that I always pass on the highway but never enter, or maybe just keep heading south and end up in Venezuela. Become a real fun South-American-guy. I could go north too and see what Canada is like. I want it to snow already.

It’s kind of empowering. If I really wanted I could just go over to the Chipotle across the street from where I work and sit there until they close, ordering burrito after burrito after burrito. I could talk to the employees about mixing the contents of the burrito better; instruct them on the fine art of layering the cheese throughout it so that there’s that nice cooling sensation that follows the initial salsa bite that’s lasts the entirety of the meal.

Am I a foodie for writing that?

I could go anywhere. I could just go back to my apartment and stare at blank walls, wondering if it’s worth hanging anything new up since there’s only four months left on the lease and I will definitely be moving. What does a young man put on walls though? Too old for Adrian Peterson posters, not old enough for paintings, and an ironic poster of something from my childhood would seem like I’m too hung up in the past. I want to move forward into something new that is undetermined and unplanned.

Which is all good and nice to think about, but I’ll probably just drive straight home. Stop for gas in Dwight. Maybe grab a latte if I’m tired. Really could use a horseshoe, and that really trumps everything.

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Over summer they played music

22 Dec Lake_Michigan_Map-340

It really does burn all the way down. They told me that and I didn’t believe them, which seems stupid now.

Six years ago (if my math is correct) I went to Chicago on a field trip. I was allowed a little bit of freedom and chose to walk around a bit by myself. It was good.

It’s funny that I ended up working in the same area that I walked around in, mainly due to how my memory shaped my experience there. I look back at those memories and it doesn’t even feel like I was in the same place, the same area, that I ended up working everyday in. I remember buildings that I walked by but they don’t seem to be in the same place, like they were first seen in some wonderful daydream that slid into my subconscious. They don’t exist anymore, even if I’ve felt the brick on my palm.

Once after work I walked to Soldier Field. There were times early in college where I would walk back to the train station from the stadium, walk the same path, only in reverse. So foreign, so removed, so lost. Didn’t recognize a thing.

Chicago used to be so different to me. Never felt like a place where people could actually live, a place where I could put myself. Now, can’t help feeling that for better or worse the city will shape this middle stage of existence.

There were times when I would walk down Washington and see the pavilion off in the distance and think how wonderful this day and the next was going to be, how nice and crisp the air would be down by the lake, how open the endless blue would seem. Those buildings end, they reach a peak and collapse off into a space that I can’t even begin to comprehend. I really did believe it, once.

Now I’m torn between yearning for empty skies and those covered in glass and steel. I’d like to drive between those full cornfields in July again. I’d like to walk on that bridge and not look back at the skyline till I’ve decided it’s time to turn back. I’d like to get lost, but it’s hard to.

No matter what happens they play music in the summer. It’s free.

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Last Christmas

19 Dec lindys-grad-011

Last Christmas it snowed a sizable amount. I don’t know if it’s supposed to this year, and I don’t think I’ll check.

For the past 18 or some odd years I’ve done the same thing every Christmas.

Christmas Eve night: go out to eat with my family and feel somewhat bad about it because the people who are serving us have to work on Christmas Eve, hope I don’t get food poisoning again (I still have yet to have any mix of chicken, bacon, cheese and honey mustard since that fateful night three years ago), return home, maybe go see a movie, open one present, and then roll around in bed all night eagerly awaiting my new Sega Saturn.

Christmas day: wake up at around six, open presents, help clean up the mess, eat cinnamon rolls, get dressed, ride to my grandparents, open more presents, eat, watch the TV and try not to get too tired. Then drive back home, play with one of my new presents for around 30 minutes, and drive to my aunt and uncle’s. Eat food, get a present from a secret Santa, go home, and in later years, try to meet up with some friends.

This year I’ll be driving three hours in order to get to my old house by 6 AM. I’ll have to leave the next day, probably somewhat early, in order to get back to my suburban life.

Last year I took my dog for a walk in the freshly falling snow and she loved it. She hates rain, but snow, she’ll gallop about, hop all over the place, grab her leash in her mouth and yank at it more than usual. Portions of the neighborhood were out shoveling their driveways a bit early (it was still snowing pretty heavily).  I waved to neighbors I’ve never met.

We cut through the one empty lot in the neighborhood – some scary old man bought the land so he wouldn’t have anybody living next to him – and out into the park that the subdivision wraps around. I let the dog off the leash and she ran off to some elm tree. They built this park after my family moved here; I can still remember walking through the then muddy fields and seeing city workers plant these tiny little trees that have already grown so much. No one else had set foot on the snow yet; it was the type of smooth white scene that almost makes you second-guess taking another step.

The path was covered. I ran to the playground when the dog wasn’t looking, I do this to see how far I can get from her without her knowing and then chasing me. I beat her, climbed to the very top of the playground so that it took her a good minute or so to figure out how I managed to join me up there. She found the way up and was excited to see me again for a couple of seconds before becoming overwhelmed with concern for how she could get back on the ground. Well, as overwhelmed as a dog can possibly be with any one thing that isn’t food.

We took the long way around the rest of the park before heading back home. I got some snow down my boots from playing with the dog and my feet were sore. I wore my sweatpants and my Mom chided me for getting them all wet.

But what I really remember was how the sky seemed to open up and stretch on forever. Sometimes, I really miss home.

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