bachelor days
Kimberly just got back from Costa Rica last night. Yes, she'd gone there on a girls' trip, and you might be wondering if that bothered me, her going on a fabulous excursion without me. The answer is no! First, I care little for hot, tropical places--which is not to say I would never enjoy a trip to such a place, but neither do I yearn for the same.1 Second, this sets a precedent for a possible BOYZ trip someday, which I think would be hilarious. No wives, just us apes on an adventure that somehow ends with a jail stay in Copenhagen or Bangkok.
Anyway, that left me on my own for six whole days, the longest Kim and I had ever been apart. As much as possible, I filled the time with unusual activities. Following is my account of day one.
I saw Kim off to the airport before sunrise, and, already feeling unmoored, found myself magnetically drawn toward the Denny's in Orchard Park where we sometimes like to have a breakfast date.
I must say, tooling along Transit Road and Southwestern Boulevard that early, with no one about, was a weirdly delightful experience. So, too, was walking into an empty restaurant, the first customer of the day.
The waitress bustled over to me immediately, and I was all like, "Hi, Betty, I'll have the special: pancakes."
And she was all, "Good choice, here's your food."
Then I was all like, "Thanks, that was good. Here's my money."
And she was all, "Have a nice day!"
Later that morning, I went down to the Holland Hardware and rented a steam vac to get the gasoline smell out of my car. It worked like a charm, and after doing an interior detail and repeating my scented dryer sheet hack, I must say my car was looking and smelling pretty nice.
While I had it, I also wielded the steamer to great effect on the area rug in our dining room, which gets a lot of traffic and has a visible footpath. Steam vac took care of that and pulled up a stratum of cat hair even my powerful Shark vacuum couldn't touch. When I was done, the rug looked brand-new.
Reader, pause and take your pulse for thirty seconds. Multiply that number by two. If, having read this far, that number is in excess of 150, I want you to walk away and take a breather. Grab some water. There is no use getting overexcited. My journal will still be here when you get back.
That evening, I went into the village to finish up my steps for the day.
Normally I listen to my audiobook on my walk, but this evening there was simply too much excitement and danger to focus on a story!
First, a whole-ass telephone pole just fell over and SMASHED a car by CVS.
Next, there was a concert in the parking lot behind Vidler's. Buncha old dudes with guitars; food trucks; folks boppin' in their camp chairs and truck beds; kids dancin' around the asphalt; tipplers stumblin' outta 42 North with plastic cups of beer. Man, you never saw such a scene of small-town summer fun.
A mob of Parkdale kids burst from an alley, screaming my name, and I handed out all the library tokens I had on me (not enough, I'm afraid). I wandered into the bar, hoping to bump into a fellow teacher or maybe a Parkdale parent who'd invite me to have a drink with them,2 but no such luck. It didn't matter: there was such energy about this gathering, you couldn't help smiling and feeling good about the world.
I must've walked around this one block four or five times, checking in on the concert and the downed telephone pole.
I felt like I was exploring the home village in a stereotypical JRPG, where your character visits different shops and chats with townsfolk, often in the midst of a festival or crisis. (Indeed, I have already chosen the music that would accompany a video game version of East Aurora.) The NPC dialog would've been just like this:
1 hot, tropical places: Although, I have to admit, Florida in December was Elysium itself, if only for the sunlight.
2 have a drink: Incidentally, while I don't think there are any local watering holes that can boast Buffalo's 4 AM last call, East Aurora (a place with an impressive number of bars per capita) supposedly has an open container law, meaning you can walk down the street chugging a beer and no one can stop you. I have never been brave enough to test this.
Anyway, that left me on my own for six whole days, the longest Kim and I had ever been apart. As much as possible, I filled the time with unusual activities. Following is my account of day one.
I saw Kim off to the airport before sunrise, and, already feeling unmoored, found myself magnetically drawn toward the Denny's in Orchard Park where we sometimes like to have a breakfast date.
I must say, tooling along Transit Road and Southwestern Boulevard that early, with no one about, was a weirdly delightful experience. So, too, was walking into an empty restaurant, the first customer of the day.
The waitress bustled over to me immediately, and I was all like, "Hi, Betty, I'll have the special: pancakes."
And she was all, "Good choice, here's your food."
Then I was all like, "Thanks, that was good. Here's my money."
And she was all, "Have a nice day!"
Later that morning, I went down to the Holland Hardware and rented a steam vac to get the gasoline smell out of my car. It worked like a charm, and after doing an interior detail and repeating my scented dryer sheet hack, I must say my car was looking and smelling pretty nice.
While I had it, I also wielded the steamer to great effect on the area rug in our dining room, which gets a lot of traffic and has a visible footpath. Steam vac took care of that and pulled up a stratum of cat hair even my powerful Shark vacuum couldn't touch. When I was done, the rug looked brand-new.
Reader, pause and take your pulse for thirty seconds. Multiply that number by two. If, having read this far, that number is in excess of 150, I want you to walk away and take a breather. Grab some water. There is no use getting overexcited. My journal will still be here when you get back.
That evening, I went into the village to finish up my steps for the day.
Normally I listen to my audiobook on my walk, but this evening there was simply too much excitement and danger to focus on a story!
First, a whole-ass telephone pole just fell over and SMASHED a car by CVS.
Next, there was a concert in the parking lot behind Vidler's. Buncha old dudes with guitars; food trucks; folks boppin' in their camp chairs and truck beds; kids dancin' around the asphalt; tipplers stumblin' outta 42 North with plastic cups of beer. Man, you never saw such a scene of small-town summer fun.
A mob of Parkdale kids burst from an alley, screaming my name, and I handed out all the library tokens I had on me (not enough, I'm afraid). I wandered into the bar, hoping to bump into a fellow teacher or maybe a Parkdale parent who'd invite me to have a drink with them,2 but no such luck. It didn't matter: there was such energy about this gathering, you couldn't help smiling and feeling good about the world.
I must've walked around this one block four or five times, checking in on the concert and the downed telephone pole.
I felt like I was exploring the home village in a stereotypical JRPG, where your character visits different shops and chats with townsfolk, often in the midst of a festival or crisis. (Indeed, I have already chosen the music that would accompany a video game version of East Aurora.) The NPC dialog would've been just like this:
- Did you see the telephone pole that crashed down by Beulah's? I'm glad that wasn't MY car!
- This band rocks! You wanna dance?
- 42 North has amazing food and drinks, but they're a little expensive. What, are you saying I've had too much? *BURP*
- This food truck has the best burgers. If you're going to venture into the forest, you should bring lots of food. It restores your HP!
- Some kids are saying the town's school librarian is here. I don't think he'd be interested in a concert, though.
- Monsters have been spotted on the road to West Seneca, but I don't believe it.
- Vidler's has a little bit of everything. I got a frying pan there. Do you want to buy my frying pan? It's 50 gold.
1 hot, tropical places: Although, I have to admit, Florida in December was Elysium itself, if only for the sunlight.
2 have a drink: Incidentally, while I don't think there are any local watering holes that can boast Buffalo's 4 AM last call, East Aurora (a place with an impressive number of bars per capita) supposedly has an open container law, meaning you can walk down the street chugging a beer and no one can stop you. I have never been brave enough to test this.