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?crazy week. Luckily, by this time, we had each in turn gone to “Uncle A?s” (pronounced “theo?s”) for breakfast. I highly recommend the place. Try the egg salad. Well, according to Suzanne, there was neither anything wrong with her car nor was there any way to get it going. The irony of that left me chuckling for exactly three-quarters of a second. Well, turns out that not only will the car not start, due to the rarity of real estate around Times Square, it is also located nowhere near the hotel. Thirty minutes later, after much hand-wringing, thumb-twiddling, and two-way paging, Perry and I walked the five blocks down to the parking deck where the Hilton parks its guests? cars. Serving as our tour guide was the head of security for the Hilton Times Square. He was a very helpful shortish guy with a Brooklyn accent. He must also have been relatively attractive, because as the local vagrant grabbed his rear, she exclaimed, “Um, I like it like that!” Suzanne and David stooped outside the hotel on Forty-second Street.
We found Suzanne?s Tahoe on the bottom floor of the parking deck where Perry got in, and gave the key a few turns in the ignition. I looked knowingly at the hood of the car, furrowed my eyebrows and gave my diagnosis. “Won?t start.” I know a little bit about cars, and I had read somewhere that without starting the car, we would never get it back to North Carolina under it?s own power.
We talked with the owner/manager/valet here at the parking deck and he gave his opinion of the situation. Probably a clogged fuel line. Something that could be fixed with “pry” if we could find some. After that went through a couple of translations, I realized that the word attempted through a heavy Spanish accent was “spray,” and I tottered down to a gas station a couple of blocks away. No pry. Back to the helpful Hilton guys. On this post Independence Day weekend, there?s a mechanic open at Twenty First Street and Eleventh Avenue. Further than I?m going to push a sport utility vehicle. So Perry is on the phone with AAA. He first talked with an operator in NC, who upon freaked when she heard he was in New York. ?Are you okay? Are you in a good part of town?? She didn?t feel any better when he couldn?t tell her exactly where he was. I guess it?s good she didn?t hear the car alarm sounding on the other side of the street. Well as he was waiting to be connected to a local AAA representative, I wandered down into the parking deck to have a second look at the bane of our trip. I found the hood up, a towel laid over the front and a Mexican bent over the towel. I never figured out what he was doing with the broomstick he had in his hand, but he had the intake removed and was more than pleased when another of the parking attendants came down with a bottle of nail polish remover. It still hasn?t occurred to me why these men would have such a bottle, or how it helped the process in which they were involved. I will not attempt to describe what happened next, because although I watched, I did not understand it. I felt like I was watching “Junk Yard Wars” as three men made a lifeless heap of metal do unbelievable things. Perry cut his conversation short at the sound of a severely distressed truck puttering and puffing, but returning to life. Like Lazarus, the Tahoe rose from the stone tomb called a parking deck. David and Suzanne?s anxiousness morphed to joy as they saw us drive instead of walk back to the hotel. We packed in our luggage and headed down to Twenty First and Eleventh where the mechanic confirmed what Suzanne had suspected all along. Nothing wrong with the car. That didn?t stop me from dumping a bottle of fuel filter and carburetor cleaner into the gas tank anyway.
With Perry commanding behind the wheel, and I navigating haphazardly from shotgun, David and Suzanne were sleeping soundly by the time we exited the Lincoln Tunnel onto the New Jersey Turnpike. They didn?t wake up until the right rear tire blew out?ten minutes later.

I left Raleigh at about 8 am on Thursday. To avoid the rush hour traffic, I took the back way to Chapel Hill, and as is my usual way with avoiding traffic, I was very successful, as I was very lost. But I allowed myself some extra time and made it to Perry?s apartment. Suzanne and David showed up and we settled into our places in her ?94 Tahoe. Well, an 8-hour drive it wasn?t. Traffic stunk. I guess it does that along I-95. Well, it became pretty apparent that we weren?t going to make it. Or, we almost did. Staying at the Hilton Times Square, Rent was just across the street. We were only a little over 30 minutes late for the 3-hour show as we tucked in our shirts and ran across the street. Then the plans changed. At the box office, the young lady suggested that instead of missing the beginning of the show, we exchange our tickets for a later date. Well, fancy that. So, I?m going back to the city that never sleeps again this summer. I?m pretty sure it can be done.
Well the city does sleep. Just not at night. I think we stayed up too late Thursday night, because when I went to bed, the sun was in my eyes.
WOW! Did I tell you what a good view we had from our room? A block from Times Square and on the 26th floor. Most of my pictures were taken from the window of our hotel room.
Day Two: I guess you realize that Friday got a late start. For Perry and I, it started at noon with a breakfast of two Gray?s Papaya hotdogs. They?re not as good as Bill?s in Washington, NC, but where else can you get a hotdog for 75 cents in New York? So then, a walk around downtown Manhattan, a ride on the subway to Battery Park, and a concert featuring Ryan Adams (whoever he is). The concert was fun. It was packed with kids and people who think themselves kids, and sun and grass and a view of Lady Liberty. Also three-dollar Cokes.
From there, it was a trek to the other side of the island where we expected to find the world?s greatest fireworks show. Actually, what we found was the entire population of New York and every tourist that was in town for the weekend, crowding some 30 blocks of the East River shore. Okay, so they were really incredible fireworks, despite the fact that we watched them through an onramp for JFK Boulevard. Thirty minutes of BOOM CRASH BAM POP POP POP and ?ooh ahhs.? Then a couple of million people started all decided to walk west, inciting the fury of more than one taxi cab driver. Oh gosh! I left out the best part! Perry and I found oil and vinegar to dip our pizza crusts in at Sbarro?s. It was just like being in Las Vegas again. Well, except not.
Blamo! 7 o?clock Saturday morning, we called ahead to the hotel desk, to have our car brought out. Yeah. So parking was $34 a day. And the car didn?t show. The bellhop got me on the phone with the hotel desk. ?I have some bad news about your car.? I know the car wasn?t stolen. It?s New York, but the Hilton?s not that irresponsible. ?It won?t start. Is there any trick to getting it going or anything?? Well, that was unexpected.
Wow, I?m tired. I?m going to bed.

I also Newstalk 680. Traffic and weather every ten minutes on the eights, and news all in between!
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to listen while I’m in New York for the weekend. We’re leaving this morning, watching Rent tonight, somebody in the park tomorrow, and the biggest Independence Day fireworks show anywhere tomorrow night. I am also starting a grassroots effort to stop calling Independence Day “The Fourth of July.” Although that is the proper date, it’s not very specific, and it’s terribly confusing to foreigners.
I don’t think I have enough clean clothes to make this trip.

Do you ever feel lazy? Like, too lazy to do homework, too lazy to play PopCap Games, too lazy to eat, too lazy to go to sleep? I’m feeling one of those right now. That probably means that my music isn’t loud enough.
Ahhh. That’s better.
Well, I’m going to New York tomorrow to see Rent. No, I haven’t packed. We’ll be sticking around for the Independence Day celebrations. I hope they have fireworks.
I think my music is loud enough to get me into the kitchen for a while now.

Girls, DO NOT think you are unattractive or imply that you are. Where do girls think they derive the right to think they are anything other than the most beautiful being that God ever created? A girl should never compare her beauty to that of another and should certainly never ask her boyfriend if another girl is pretty/prettier or any question involving the word “fat.” It’s nice to be humble, but let’s not doubt that God knew what He was doing when He made you in His own image.

My pirate name is Black Sam Flint. Like anyone confronted with the harshness of robbery on the high seas, I can be pessimistic at times. Like the rock flint, I’m hard and sharp. But, also like flint, I’m easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!

I put up some new, pointless pictures.

Here’s what you’ve been waiting for. Hijack my Winamp.

This site is so great, I’m posting it again and adding it to the links on the left, my right. Eric Conveys an Emotion.
Is it bad when I start thinking from the perspective of my blog?

I?m in my dancing shoes. Tango lessons were everything I expected them to be, and more. I expected to be pretty bad at the whole thing, and quite embarrassed as a result. I expected there to be guys there who wouldn?t mind dancing with me, (Know what I?m saying?) but I didn?t realize it would be a necessity due to the lack of females. So ladies: ballroom dancing Wednesday nights 7:30, in the gym. You know, the dancing room. And if you see me around, remind me to work on my frame.
(transition) There are ephelants on my street! I was going out last night and was all like, ?I don?t think that circus was there last time I went down this road.? And then I saw the three ephelants outside. I?m pretty excited. Hopefully I can nab a picture.
(transition) It?s pretty weird being on campus this summer. There are about half as many people around as there usually are, and half of those aren?t regulars. Know what I mean, they?re either just taking summer session here, or they?re teenagers here for one camp or another. It feels like I?m in a different place altogether. The whole summer has been pretty laid back.