Friday, July 17, 2009

Not even noon


as i mentioned my day was going to consist of organic milk and public libraries, so i thought. i get a call from a crazy friend of mine COME PICK ME UP he says IM STRANDED IN NEWBURGH. now the city of NEWBURGH has a very bad reputation, areas off broadway, areas that look more like a war zone than anything that i have ever seen before. I'll put it this way -- these areas that make sanbourne street in wilkes-barre or that block of south franklin between wood and academy with all the boarded up buildings look like quaint mediterranean villas. and i know this friend well enough that i dont even have to ask. i was on my way to the library, to pick up my mail from the sweet little cornwall post office & certainly not prepared to drive into the hood with my PA plates in my plaid pajama pants.

if you didn't know this already i should mention it now so you are perfectly clear-- i'm a total sucker. i agreed. I didn't think fast enough to come up with a plausible reason why i couldn't pick him up.

he doesn’t know where he is only that its off broadway and NOT THE GREATEST AREA. then i hear a woman’s voice. i know his cohorts are never scholars or beauties but this one made my day.

i drive down broadway only to see my friend, denim button-down fully unbuttoned, hair beyond disheveled and the female – oh, there are no words, a real doozie. she looked old, worn, exhausted in a full bright turquoise ensemble, many gold chains and as they got into the car i realized both glossy eyed and reeking of booze & cigarettes. I didn’t ask the circumstances of what brought them there because frankly i did not want to know nor did i care to be an accessory in whatever foiled plot got these two brainiacs to newburgh without a way home.

i dropped them off at his apartment in silence. of course we needed to stop quickly at the convenience store for a 6 pack of budweiser first but this is to be expected. if this is what my summer is going to involve . . . driving drug addicts to and from their dealers . . . please kill me now.

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