Sarah had her doubts, we stood in
snowy church parking lot a mile from her parents'
house weighing where we'd want to be when the lights went out--there with
her folks in rural Sunbury or closer to ground zero with friends in Jersey
City. We drove on, Pink Floyd and U2 on every end of millenium rock station,
Mail
Pouch Tobacco barn in western Pennsylvania, then approaching Newark salsa
filled the Taurus I'd rented in Minneapolis and we paid $3.50 a gallon fill
up fee because we couldn't find gas. We opted for another rental, a local
getaway vehicle in case things got apocalyptical, trunk loaded down with
water, last-minute survivalist overkill. At LuAdam's on New Year's Eve, hair
of the dog was never so literal as when I taped my goatee to the absinthe
bottle. At Greg and Lynne's we braced for bombs but it was only the ball
that fell. Molly left with Henry and John left
early b/c he wasn't feeling well. Michael held forth, drunk in the kitchen,
expecting everyone was dying to listen, but in the next room 2 guys played,
guitar and ukelele, Hawaiian swing serenade. Back to LuAdam's, 3 tucked in
a bed--Michael,
Sarah, and I--and when
Molly crept in she squeezed in on the end. No
better way to start the year and the day, New Zealand xylophone, champagne
and OJ. At John's it was brunch, he stayed in his PJs, but it was too dark
for my ShopRite throwaway so this was the only best picture I made. |
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