Thursday, May 16, 2013

Scranton

I haven't had the proper time to address the Scranton trip with Sean (and I really don't now, either) but I don't think I need to do a long-winded post to say, simply, "awesome."

All of the pictures are here.

We didn't need this trip to make us closer.  Trust me.  If anything, it enhances our closeness.

I scooped him up straight from school, and his reaction was, well, like any kid.

"Aw..."

He wanted to play with his friends, before remembering that it was the big day of our trip.  We stepped outside, here he did a "punch buggy" on me, seeing a gray one in the parking lot.

Hmmm, I said.  Let's see what happens when I press this button.

His eyes lit up.  That punch buggy was, for that weekend, our punch buggy.
We were in Scranton before 6:00, arriving at the wonderful SpringHill Suites in Moosic.  Sean had never seen such a place, and I've set the bar a lot higher than a Motel 6!

After some coaxing, we went to PNC Field, home of the Scranton-Wilkes Barre RailRiders.  The ballpark was completely rebuilt in 2012, so it had only been opened for a short time when we strolled in - procuring seats behind the first base dugout.

We stayed until the end of the 7th inning, after watching some of the game, walking around the whole place, and visiting the gift shop.  Sean needed a new miniature bat, along with a hat.  Paul Silverfarb (who isn't my son, by the way), also needed a new hat.

Our room had a view of the stadium, with thanks to the nice girl at the front desk.  A perfect vantage point for some fireworks.
 The next day, we went to the main attraction.
Then it was on to Steamtown National Historic Site, where we rode a train.  We looked at trains.  We saw a lot about trains.  And trolleys at the Electric City Trolley Museum. But when you see this face, how can you resist it?
We drove a lot.  We jumped in the pool at SpringHill Suites.  We ate Krispy Kreme and more Waffle House.  We - at Sean's insistence - went to Wawa for sandwiches.  We found the Scranton photo-op sign in the Mall at Steamtown, where we also saw a reference to Dunder Mifflin (of "The Office").

Incidentally, Scranton hosted a big farewell to "The Office" the following week.  They were at PNC Field and partied downtown.  Funny for us to see.

We had Old Forge pizza (not quite New York, but I'm biased).

We went to the really cool Lackawanna County Coal Mine Tour.

We talked.  We laughed.  We played.

We had a blast.

Instead of having too much time, we almost ran out of time!  I loved it.  Loved it all.  Hated to go home and I think he did also.

We'll do it again.

It was a priceless experience.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Why We Love Sports - Chapter 1723

Sports Illustrated photo
The Rangers beat the Washington Capitals last night, 5-0, in Game 7 of the Easter Conference quarterfinals.

The significance of this is that it was done in Washington.  It is, quite honestly, shameful to be beaten like that in Game 7, the penultimate game of a series.  The Washington Post has the details.

In a series in which Rangers goalie Henrik Lundqvist started terribly and finished phenomenally, it was nice to see the offense make life easier for him.

They will next play...the Boston Bruins.

That's where the story really begins.

Great friends Mick McGowan and Tom Oderwald came to "The Press Box" for a fun show.  After, Ryan DeMaria and I joined them for a post-show dinner at Sundown Saloon on Greenwich Ave.  We knew we could have dinner and hopefully watch some hockey.  After securing a table in the bar area, we glanced at the TV's.

Rangers 4, Caps 0...OK, game likely over (and it was, as I said above).

Maple Leafs 4, Bruins 2.  In fact, the game had been 4-1 in favor of Toronto.  In the third period.  In Boston.  In Game 7.  With all of the emotion of recent times in Beantown, sometimes you just run out of steam.  Which, as in Washington, wouldn't be acceptable (again, it's Game 7) but it happens.

Then something wondrous happened.

As in Game 6, the Bruins pulled their goalie, Tuukka Rask, and scored a goal to cut the deficit to one.  In Game 6, it was not enough, and the Leafs held on to force Game 7.

On this night, somewhat miraculously, the story had a different ending.

With just under a minute to play, Patrice Bergeron stuffed the puck past Toronto goalie James Reimer, and the game was tied.  Two goals within approximately a half minute.

Sitting in Greenwich, even I found myself cheering.  I couldn't help myself, and I realized that almost instantly.  I loved the drama - the unlikely notion of a team down three goals (oh, the dreaded three goal lead) in Game 7 coming back to tie it and, ultimately, winning it, as Bergeron netted the big tally in overtime (New York Times).

That's why we love sports.  That reaction.

The look of "holy s***" on Ryan's face.  The "wow's" of Mick and Tom.

Incidentally, fast forward to approximately 4:42 on this video.  It's show from above the Air Canada Centre in Toronto, where fans are watching on a big screen.  The reaction is, well, ugh.  Watch the fans scatter at 2:45 in this one.

As for video, here it is, courtesy CNBC.


But, wait!  There's more!  Deadspin has footage of Jack Edwards calling the game-winner, and Toronto in stunned disbelief.

Deadspin also feels NESN did a bad thing by showing Toronto after the tying goal but, hey, your mileage may vary.

Hey, look, we're not supposed to like Boston in New York.  I get that.  And the Bruins now advance to play the Rangers.  Each team is coming in with energy and momentum.  Each fan base can tell you while they're going to win...or lose (and I heard plenty of the former coming from WFAN as I drove home).

At the same time, we remember September 11 around here.  We remember Mike Piazza.  Tino Martinez.  Derek Jeter.  Scott Brosius.

We - Mets fans, Yankees fans, etc, let out an amazing noise thanks to each of these men.

Some are calling this a monumental moment in Boston sports history and, given the Marathon bombing of just a month ago, I can't really argue.  But I'd like to let it breathe before we do that.  It was a conference quarterfinal game.  There's a long way to go, but still, oh my goodness.

Maybe we can add Patrice Bergeron to the list of legends.

With all that being said, it's on, Boston.  Game 1 is Thursday.

And, oh how I wish the late Pat Turk was around for this series.  Mother versus son.  Pat and her much-despised "King" Henrik, against Harold's B's.  Oh...baby.  Just saying.  That would have been fun.

Upon seeing Bergeron score, I posted the famous words of Jack Buck to Harold's Facebook page: "I don't believe what I just saw!"

Monday, May 06, 2013

May 6th

Yankee Stadium, May 9, 2012
It was one year ago today that Lisa and I finally went on a real first date.  Oh yeah, we met for a few coffees (or chai tea) back in 2009/2010, but there wasn't really a feel of a "date" to those times.  It was simply "see ya at Starbucks" and talk.  Something was off.  We weren't ready.

We each went our separate ways and said an occasional hello to each other.  By April, 2012, we were both single again.  So we talked on the phone, picked up where we left off, and decided to go out - on May 6.

I remember it being fairly simple.  Nothing fancy.  A jeans and polo shirt kind of night.  I remember we had trouble finding each other at first.  I was parked in one area.  She was waiting in another.

We went for a walk through a park and grabbed dinner at a diner ("You're buying tonight," she said.  "It's our first date.").  Then a stop at CVS for Twizzlers and onto my first drive-in movie (the awful Zach Effron flick, The Lucky One, and jeez, I don't even remember the second one - some horror thing that we left 20 minutes in).

We made fun of the movies.

I remember there was a nice tension to the night.  What was this?  Was this for real?  After saying good night (awkwardly, I recall), I waited maybe 10 minutes before texting her to say I had a good time.

That, she told me later on, was smart.

By the time of our second date - a Yankees game that I wasn't initially invited to but a ticket opened up for me - it seemed clear that we kind of liked each other.

And so it went from there.  Camping.  Hiking.  Shopping.  Cape Cod.  Florida.  Movies.  TV.  Just talking.

Soon...Virginia Beach.

We laugh.  Nothing means more to me than that.  The laughter.

Truthfully, we're still learning each other.  For us, that means real life.  My quirks.  Hers.  She has no use for sports (unless she's playing them and, therefore, kicking my ass in them).  I live for them.  I love to shop but breeze through a store quickly.  She's meticulous and looks at everything.

Real life meant job loss (mine - damn layoff).  It means death and sickness and money and trying to get vacation time and time apart and working multiple jobs and family and a child and...

I want people to get to know her better.  Crowds aren't her thing (see: last year's overwhelming congregation at Cardinal Stadium on Thanksgiving).  She's smart.  Funny.  Attractive.

Real.

Sadly, we won't see each other today, thanks to my ragged schedule.  "The Press Box" is tonight.  I also have to work tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday nights also.

Ugh.

Even if my schedule was easy, I'm battling a nasty cold.  Listen to tonight's show and you might be able to hear it for yourself.  That kept us apart over the weekend.

But she's always in my thoughts.  Always.

And here we are.  One year later.

Friday, May 03, 2013

My Last Days: Meet Zach Sobiech

Chances are, you don't remember Zach Sobiech, who I introduced you to here.

But you should.  He's extraordinary.  And you should watch this.  Because, for 22 minutes, it's uplifting, heart-wrenching, sad, happy, funny, and cute.

So watch.  Please.


Thanks.

What Has Happened?


Remember this?


Part of a great marketing plan by the Yankees and Adidas in the late 90's.  These spots were brilliant - absolutely hysterical.  I can remember being among family and friends and everything coming to a dead stop when these commercials came on.  Not only were the Yankees dominating on the field (125-50 in 1998, anyone?), but off the field, they were connecting with the public.

Here's another one.  This one was completely brilliant.


Not only is David Cone great in the "lead" role, but the classic delivery from Luis Sojo: "Hey, Coney, why don't YOU have a dance?"  And note - briefly - the presence of former Yankee Clay Bellinger to the right of Sojo.  According to something I read, Cone wanted him in the spot to get him some extra cash.

I interviewed Cone several years ago.  Very likeable.  Really good guy.

All of this is apropos of nothing.  Just an indication that times, just like the overpriced ballpark, have changed.  A further note that the current team is that much tougher to warm up to.

Moving on...

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Baseball Broadcasting

This is Graham McNamee.  Every sports broadcaster should know his name.
This makes Rob happy.

Very.

Happy.

My good friends at PCTV76.org, Tom Prizeman and Shane McGaffey, put the broadcast online of Pleasantville's baseball victory over Hastings.

Tom and I called the action, with Shane doing his usual fabulous job on camera.

It was the first baseball game I had called in almost three years, when I did the Renegades and Brooklyn Cyclones, a day after calling the Gades and Staten Island Yankees.

There was a little rust, but it felt good.

I miss it like you have no idea.  Unless you are a loyal reader of this blog, in which case you probably know I have probably whined about not calling baseball incessantly.

I've got one more game scheduled with Tom for the spring season.

The Mary Higgins Clark Article


My story with the wonderful Mary Higgins Clark has made it to web.

It got edited, very slightly, from the initial version due to space restraints.  I don't think I need to get the unedited version up, since I feel you'll get the point if you are so inclined to read it.

I worked in references to Don Imus and the New York Yankees.

That makes me a happy person.

This, along with Tom Coughlin, has been my favorite story to write (since joining the Bulletin).  Coming on Thursday (in print), I profile a band made up of high school students that got a favorable review from my editor.  So there's that.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Ready to Travel!


It's no secret that I love me some Waffle House.  In fact, as much as I wish they would open one nearby, it's probably for the best.

Therefore, it sets up the opportunity for a road trip.

At Sean's request.

Tomorrow, after school, we will hit the road for a late birthday present.  Yes, I know, his birthday is in February.  Hear me out.

Sean has been yelling at me to take him back to WH for a while.  Believe me, having lived through the horror of watching Lisa eat at one in Florida with her equally horrified parents (and their mocking of me), I know to choose my Waffle House companions carefully.

The Scranton, PA area has not one, but two (Moosic and Clarks Summit).  But there needed to be more to this trip to make it worth it, right?

Yup.  Trains.  Steamtown National Historic Site.  Plus the Lackawanna County Coal Mine Tour.  Plus the Electric City Trolley Museum.  And Krispy Kreme donuts.  And (rebuilt) PNC Field, home of the Scranton-Wilkes Barre RailRiders.  And pizza in Old Forge.

And, if that wasn't enough, Sean said, and I quote: "Can we go to Wawa?"

I'll find one (actually, I found two, off of Interstate 80)!

All of this is his doing.  His trip.  Not mine.  OK, maybe it's our trip.

Trains. trolleys. Swimming.  A hotel (not sure the last time he stayed in one).  ROADS!  Win! Win!

Sean feels like he's living large!

And we're going alone.  I was told Lisa could go (alas she has to work).  Otherwise, he wanted this to be him and Daddy.

Initially, I thought maybe we'd make it a day trip.  Then I toyed with the idea of grabbing a room via Priceline.

But no.  I've booked us a room at the SpringHill Suites Scranton (in the back yard of PNC Field).  For our wheels, I've rented a car via Enterprise (at a crazy good price).  Again, he had a say in all of this.

For those who know the area, I could have stayed at the Radisson Lackawanna Station Hotel but, with the exception of the lobby, it's not obvious that you're staying in an old train station.  If you see the outside of the building and walk around in the lobby, you get the idea.  Plus the price isn't great.  Plus parking.  Plus it honestly didn't blow me away when I stayed there a year ago.  However it was the place where some of the idea of this trip began.

So we'll visit that.

But the calendar worked against us.  We were aiming for mid-March, but discovered the coal mine (which stays pretty cool) didn't open until April 1.  Then I saw that neither the trains or trolleys weren't having riders until late April.  Oh, and I don't see Sean every weekend (though, to his mothers credit, we probably could have worked something out).

So this weekend was truly the first opportunity to go and have the full effect.  Sean has been very patient.

I'm pumped.  Excited.  Thrilled.

I know, some may scoff.  How could we go to Scranton?  Home of "The Office."  Home of...er...not much.  Why not go somewhere else?  Somewhere more glamorous?

It's about the experience.  And hey, I found some cool things to do.  True Americana!

It's reminiscent of a trip I took to Ohio back in 1999.  My brother and two of his kids drove out and met us.  We went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  I went to Pro Football Hall of Fame.  We went to a big basket building!  I drove the Y Bridge of Zanesville!

We drove into Pittsburgh and I visited Three Rivers Stadium and saw the four (at the time) shiny Lombardi Tropies! (In case you need a reminder, they have six now.)

I loved it.  Loved. Loved. Loved it.

It doesn't have to be big for me to make me happy.  It's about the adventure.

Next month, Lisa and I are going to Virginia Beach.  We'll be road tripping for that too.

Sean won't be with us (damn school and all) but I still can't wait.  Beach.  Maybe baseball (Norfolk...we'll see).  Beach.  Roads.  Beach.  Food and fun (and I'll sneak out for Waffle House and Krispy Kreme).

(And yes, I'm quite aware that a great place called Richmond has Waffle House - excuse me, Waffle HOUSES - and Krispy Kreme and Wawa.  I want to get there, too!)

Kars4Kids


If you live around New York (or apparently anywhere else in the country), you know the song.

"One-eight-seven-seven Kars for Kids. K-A-R-S Kars for Kids.  One-eight-seven-seven Kars for Kids. Donate your car today."

The original song, which serves as a commercial for a firm that receives used cars for donations to Jewish children and their families, is played numerous times throughout the day on radio stations.  They also sponsor things such as the Yankees Radio Network (heard in New York on WCBS 880).

In other words, turn on the radio in New York and you hear it.  A.  Lot.  Like "Jack and Diane" a lot.

Now, I get it.  When I'm not writing, I'm still handling the programming logs for the Business Talk Radio Network and Lifestyle Talk Radio Network.  I've been known to schedule certain spots, such as Geico, 55 times a day.

In their case, Geico has a rotation of commercials featuring the Gecko, Maxwell the pig, and others.

In the case of Kars4Kids, there are only two spots that I've heard.  The original, and a newer rock version.

They're both, well, they're both, er, something.

If you haven't heard it, a boy sings the first verse, and a man (sounding like he's trying to be Johnny Cash) sings the second verse.  After an announcer reads the details, they return and sing together.

In radio parlance, it is a classic "doughnut" commercial with singing surrounding the actual commercial read.  I practiced many of these at Connecticut School of Broadcasting.

At one time, I would sing the song in front of Sean and he would scream at me.  I eventually tired of it myself.  Where I would once turn it up loudly on the radio just to get a reaction from Sean, it soon became a battle to see who could turn the radio off the fastest.

It's like "Name that Tune," in that I can turn off the Kars4Kids commercial in one note!

So earlier this week, as I drove to pick Sean up from school for our weekly dinner, I heard the commercial during the Mike Francesa show (aka "Mike's On" or whatever he's calling it) on WFAN.

I decided to take to Twitter (when I wasn't driving) to write.




I didn't tag them.  Didn't direct it at them.  But damned if they didn't search and find it.




The link they included was priceless.

What else could I say?




A fellow Yankees fan, known on Twitter as YankeeMegs, reached out to me to say the song has also caused a similar reaction between her and her son, leading Kars4Kids to send her a pair of earbuds.

I mean, seriously, what else can you say, except bravo for having a sense of humor?

By the way, if you even slightly believe you're a Yankees fan, follow Megs now.  Don't think twice.  go to Twitter, set up an account, and follow her.  Whether you're a Yankees fan or not..  She's cool, and tweets to everyone.  And she knows her stuff.

And she has camped in a volcano.

There are reasons she has nearly 5,000 followers (just a mere, oh, LOT more than me).

But back two Kars4Kids.  While the commercial will still drive me (there's a bad pun in there) to still change the station (and I'm mostly listening to satellite anyway), I have to say that, with a sense of humor, they've made a fan.

A laugh goes a long way.  Especially the ability to laugh at oneself.

Well played indeed.


Stupid Politics: Ridgefield Edition

Sometimes, idiocy astounds me.

This sign is in a bookstore, Books on the Common, in Ridgefield, CT.  It seems they had a simple sign announcing new arrivals outside their door but some overzealous, over-officious individual with an agenda decided to go whine to the Zoning Department.

It reminds me of the kerfuffle in Carmel, NY when a music store had the temerity - THE HORROR - to set up a speaker that played music during the holiday season.  Because of some foolish town law, they were told that would have to pay to play those tunes before rational thought took over.

Now, to be clear, I don't have a dog in the fight. I stepped the shop once - on my first day at The Bulletin.  The lady in there seemed very nice, and I love book stores.  Plus I think supporting local businesses is an important thing to do in this era.

But regardless, I think this is foolish.

Shame on those who complained.  Further shame on Ridgefield for allowing the complaint to stand.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Blast from the Past - Road to Richmond

It's hard for me to believe that I've never written this story before.   There are a couple of road trips that I've wanted to write about.

(Yes, I said "road trip" which might tempt you to click somewhere else...but I think they're tales worth telling that will be enjoyable)

The year was 2009.  I was trying to stay active and still have fun (mostly with Sean) during our year of living with Laura and her daughters.  That June, Sean and I went to Richmond (ah...R-Va) to hang with Jon, Rebecca, Rose, and Lilah.  There are posts from there on the blog for your review.

Anyway, as the summer of '09 moved along, I decided to go back again that August.  That's where our story begins.

I didn't need to be in Richmond (I thought) until after 5:00, so I had time to either meander along the route. My intention was to hit a few road spots, with a shopping break at the VF Factory outlet in Reading, PA. After Reading, I felt I could roll to Richmond with ease.

Best laid plans and such. Ugh.

I got Sean squared away at his daycare just up the street from the house and climbed into the car.

It was 7:52 AM.

The plan was to get gas (funds were tight but there's a station in Brewster that is reasonable and only a few miles away). The road lineup was set to be I-684 to Saw Mill Parkwy (which becomes the Henry Hudson Parkway) to I-95 to I-80 (with a few stops around the Delaware Water Gap area) to PA 611 and work my way to US 22 to US 222 to Reading. Then it would be US 222 to US 30 to I-81 to I-695 to I-70 to US 29 to I-495 to I-95.

Easy, right? What could possibly go wrong on a hot Friday in summer?

Again. Ugh.

Oh, it started off well enough. To be honest, other than dropping off Sean and getting gas in Brewster, I don't really remember much of the drive until I was on I-80 towards western New Jersey. This, by the way, is remarkable rare for me.
Brewster, NY.  It's 8:16 AM, according to the time stamp on the camera.
All of the pictures are available on my Flickr site here.

After that, the details are quite clear. I reached my first stop – Columbia, NJ. A tiny hamlet that is ringed by I-80, US 46, NJ 94 and the Delaware River, the population is just 229 (per the 2010 Census).
Stay to the left...
My goal here was to see one of the road peeps sites (a Holy Grail, if you will). For a stretch, US 611 crossed the Portland-Columbia Toll Bridge into New Jersey.  A sign hung near the bridge, and still stands there, even though the road was decommissioned in 1972, and exists only in Pennsylvania as PA 611.

This is one of those road stops that I had heard about, but had never pursued it.  Traveling alone, I knew I could.  Finding it isn't too difficult, though some in the "community" don't want to publish the details for fear some "pirate" might go steal the shield (again, the "Holy Grail" comparison.  I sense an Indiana Jones reference).

It took me no time to find it.  Might seem foolish to you, but I was pleased.
US 611 doesn't exist anymore.  It's 10:07 AM.
Seeing the pictures reminds me how cloudy it was that day, although it cleared up at times.  The weather would soon play a role in the day.

I crossed into Pennsylvania via I-80 and stopped at the welcome center for a few maps.  Of particular interest to me (besides the fact that there was a rare line to get into the men's room) was that the welcome center had a rooftop garden on it!  That being said, I didn't take any pictures of interest while I walked around up there.

My next stop was the small town of Portland, PA (population 520).  A foot bridge sits just up the river from the vehicle toll bridge.  It was time to walk back into New Jersey.

Across the river sat Columbia, and I strolled a few blocks of the town, taking a few pictures before crossing back to Pennsylvania.
This is New Jersey.  Pennsylvania is straight ahead.
It was just about 11 when I returned to the car and began to work my way down PA 611.  I didn't plan on any stops between Portland and Reading.  I figured I would get something to eat there, and probably get some gas, but just intended to enjoy the scenery.

In fact, I even backed down on taking pictures for this stretch.

I used a GPS for this trip, for the heck of it.  Do I need a GPS?  No.  Do I enjoy it?  Sure, it's handy at times.  Of course I argue with it, but that's OK.

Planning to take PA 611 straight into Easton, the GPS suggested I turn into Stockertown, which would take me to PA 33, and on my merry way.

Things came to a stop.  Nothing was moving.  I watched a delivery man jump out of his truck and run into Tony's Pizza on Main Street and return empty-handed.

He needed a restroom break.  Whatever was going on probably wasn't good.  I needed to turn around.  My first attempt put me on Buskill Street, which would serve as an alternate to get to PA 33.  Except the bridge that was on Buskill St. was no more.  Fail.

I retraced my steps and found my way onto PA 33.  I hoped that this would be my only blip on the day.

As I approached US 22 near Allentown, it was 11:53.  I probably lingered too long around the Portland/Columbia area, I thought, but I could make up for it.

But as I roared along US 22, to the merge with Interstate 78 west, traffic...slowed...down.  Temporary signage screamed that the road was closed a few exits ahead.  I jumped off at the first exit and (PA 100), as all traffic went south, I went north.

I worked my way back to US 22 East, jumped on PA 309, merged onto I-78 East and grabbed the exit to US 222. But I knew - with all certainty - that I was going to run into a wall of cars.

I know now that this is the point when I should have abandoned ship.  Reading and their inexpensive Yankees and Steelers merchandise could wait.  I could use any number of other roads to get to I-95 and go onto Richmond.  But...no.  I kept going.

US 222 is mostly a two-lane road between Allentown and Reading, save for a few stretches around Kutztown and just outside of Allentown.  All of that traffic on I-78 needed a place to be dumped.  It went to US 222.

With the GPS, a map, and my brain, I found the first turn to a town called Topton.  The road opened up again.  I'd have to take the long way, but I would get to Reading and out of the 78/222 mess via side roads, PA 662 and PA 12.

And then the skies opened.  Impressively.  Just as I was heading into Reading.

I now realized that I would have to be quick in the VF Outlet.  I made it as the rain let up for a few minutes and did my thing, determined to not let this trip pass.  I had tried to go the VF store in Reading a few weeks earlier, on my way back from a weekend in Aberdeen, MD, but the store was just about to close when I drove up.

A few polo shirts with the beloved interlocking NY on it were purchased (might have cost $8 each) and I was back on the road, along with a quick gas stop.  The next picture I took, back on US 222, was at 2:24 PM, after I had been back in the car for about 20 minutes.

I passed on eating, eager to get some driving done, now concerned about my time.  It was after 2:00, and, in theory, Richmond was approximately four hours away.  But it was also Friday, and raining.  Oh and I still had Baltimore and Washington to contend with.

My father was cringing somewhere.  As travelers, Pop and I had a rule: avoid Washington rush hour at all costs.  Now I was staring the beast in the eye.

I passed a line of traffic going the opposite way outside of Lancaster on 222.  They only had one lane open while construction went on.  My first break of the day, I thought.  I moved through Lancaster around 2:40 and into York, dealing with traffic lights along US 30, at 3:15.  At 3:52, I moved onto I-695, the Baltimore Beltway.

Things were slow on the Beltway, with me reaching the eastern end of I-70 at 4:18. I-70 is known for ending at a park-and-ride due to local opposition.  The road was one of several canceled projects in Baltimore.  Scott Kozel's excellent website, Roads to the Future, details the canceled projects.  AA Roads has plenty more.

I didn't have time to visit the park-and-ride, but I did snap this sign.
Columbus 420...St. Louis 845...Denver 1700...Cove Fort (where I-70 ends) 2200.










Feeling good after getting off the Baltimore Beltway, I knew I still had Washington to deal with.

US 29 started out good, as an expressway, then becomes a collection of traffic lights.  Still it beat being stuck in traffic, which I feared would be the case on I-495, the Capital Beltway.

And I was.

We moved like turtles.  It didn't matter which side of the Beltway I was on.  It was jammed.  Just after 5:10, I cross the Potomac into Virginia.  But the traffic - a Friday, trying to get to the shore, home, wherever - was unrelenting.  I thought maybe the traffic gods were trying to show me a good sign as I approached I-95 near Springfield...
A rainbow, at 5:34.
I-95, my dear friend, would surely be the answer to speeding things up.

No shot.  I tried the Fairfax County Parkway to US 1 to get back to 95.  Not so good, as I had done this once before with a little success.  This time, I sat for lights and slow drivers.  My blood pressure spiked.  I began to go stir crazy.

I stopped taking pictures, since dusk was causing the picture quality to be poor.  And I truly began to understand how people can feel road rage.  It didn't make sense.  Why were we moving so slowly?

Finally, at 7:00, after five hours in the car, with nothing to eat since breakfast, I pulled off in Fredericksburg at a Target.

I needed shaving cream.

The stop was like magic.  I got back on 95, maybe 10 minutes later, and it was a new road.  The traffic had mostly let up, and what was on there was moving, albeit fast.  Either I flew with it, or there would be trouble.

It was pure bliss.  In fact, after this long day, I felt the greatest relief.  It was driving as I wanted it to be.  The windows were open.  The roof was open.  The music was blaring.  I roared into Richmond triumphantly (I'll ignore the urge to use a lame Civil War General reference).  I reached my destination and turned off the car.

It was 7:52 PM.  Twelve hours - EXACTLY - after  I left Carmel, NY that morning.

The road home, while interesting, couldn't be nearly as interesting as this.  It wasn't.

I'm a Bad Man

I had just finished covering a story at a nearby elementary school when I was driving through Wilton Center. A busy area with stores and offices, I proceeded carefully, doing maybe 25 or so, watching for people crossing the street, cars, etc.

I drove on, seeing a car that was beginning to pull out into the street when the driver stopped short.

Then she adjusted herself so that she could make sure - absolutely 100% - to ram her horn at me.

Whatthe??

Oh.

A stop sign.

Because I was watching the traffic, the people, and being uber-careful, I missed a poorly placed stop sign.

Damn.

My bad.

I drove away laughing.  At myself.  At her (the image of her making SURE to honk was priceless).

So if she ever reads this, I humbly apologize. 

Back to work.

Mary Higgins Clark

I interviewed the wildly successful author Mary Higgins Clark on Monday for the Wilton Bulletin.  The finished product will be in tomorrow's paper.

I loved doing this one.

Seriously.  Over a thousand words on a remarkable woman.

She laughed with ease over the phone when I mentioned that I had listened to her so many times on "Imus on the Morning." She told me great stories about editing and writing for radio.

She mentioned Beyoncé and Jay-Z.

This was a story that gave me a chance to dig around and relay stories.

I asked on Facebook if anyone would like to submit questions to ask her.  A few people brought some value to the day.

Lisa's sister, Gina, wanted to know if Ms. Clark really once owned part of the New Jersey (now Brooklyn) Nets.  That made it into the story.

I couldn't get everything in from our 25 minute chat, but I like what I did put in.

OK.  Back to work.