Bridge and Tunnel City

I spent this lovely afternoon in my old stomping ground. Murray Hill. 28th and 3rd. What a time in my life. It was fun and I have blog material to last a lifetime but WOOF. The original vortex of all that was not right---Arctica. Good, bad, silly, crazy. It housed it all. The neighborhood should be renamed "bridge and tunnel city" cuz that's who it attracts. Mostly long island douchbags and silly girls with fake tans and ugg boots. How did I end up there you ask? I followed the long islanders. I was there. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Minus fake tan and a head full of air though.It began with Music Man. I was there almost every sunday night during that Summer into Fall.

The infamous story of my life is entitled "That Tuesday". No one will forget it. Aside from Arctica establishing the existance of Music Man and co. in my life, it also gave birth to Druggie Douchebag. I remember the look on the bartenders face the night I met him. His eyes were warning me it was bad news. They were screaming "noooooo!" but I couldn't really say no to a British accent. "That Tuesday" resulted in a lost phone, realization he had a drug problem as we stopped in at various bars and even a bodega for him to "use the bathroom", getting no sleep, going to work at 8am, and being awake for 38 hours straight. Never again. Great story, but never again.

As I'm writing this waiting for my friend to show up for lunch, I'm staring right at the giant looming problem of the neighborhood---Tonic East. Its the mecca for all things bridge and tunnel. Its the long island version of the Jersey Shore house. I think if we douce it in gasoline one Saturday night and accidentally lit a match, it would rid the surrounding area of the spread of STD's and reduce the statistics of bad decision making in the city.
You know how I know its a bad place? Druggie Douchebag took me there. And, he used to work there. And, he got fired from there. I should've known right then and there.