If I stab a fool, I'd be wrong, right?

430.5 miles is the distance from Cleveland, Ohio back to the city. At 72 miles per hour with a 30 minute stop that trip is approximately 6.5 hours. I've done it at faster speeds and it still takes about 6.5 hours. Then why was it, on a random Tuesday, that trip took me nearly 8.5 hours? There were more bad Jersey drivers on Interstate 80 than in a traffic jam going through the Holland Tunnel at 8:30 PM on a Friday night. ...the fug? Crashing into shit. Hydroplaning. Causing accidents. Refusing to let folks merge when lanes were closed for construction. As usual, trying to prove they can drive as ruthlessly as any New Yorker--but they forgot that skill comes with the ability to actually control the vehicle. One fool, caused a tractor trailer to jack knife and fall over a jersey wall. Homeboy, if he is alive, had to be cut out with the Jaws of life and there were 5 tow trucks on the scene to try and tow that blickie out of the ravine.

And then, we get to Jersey. And it just gets better. See I forgot to mention it had been pooring like a monsoon on and off all the way through "no-man's land" central PA. So people were feeling really, quite special. I used the term "ignant -ass muuffuuca" more times in 15 minutes than I had all summer.

As I was trying not to get out the car and punch someone in the head, I camly remembered, that Cleveland is not the only place I have a love hate relationship with. Just as when I arrived in Cleveland, I wanted to go home. The same thing happened when I got back. The crowds, the dirt, the smell, the crazy fools who got no shame in they game about the money you need to hand them cause they "hungry", "homeless", "want a beer" (Now I know this is the case for many, but some of these fools got on newer kicks than me), the brother's who are constantly like "hey love", "Hey shorty", "Where you going, Ma?" Damn. The expense of the place, cajoled me to moving to Jersey City. (But Its like being a kid who's getting ready to get hit by a bully and then the bully walks away. You get real close to the tunnel and then you stay on this side of the river. Sometimes I hate it. )

I even called up some of the folks I have been close to who are/were apart of the NY crew back in the day and went off about how my return was some bullshit.

Then I got home. And it felt good to be home. I was in my parents home for the summer, and although I didn't get harassed about where I was going and mom's made breakfast many a morning, there is nothing like being where your stuff is. The subletter had caringly put my stuff in the room I would be moving into, and a lot less work than I though had to be done.

I walked around the corner and had true slice. Washed it down with a Mr. Softee Vanilla cone dipped in cherry.

Today, I got up, got on the PATH and went across the river. Had lunch. Sat in Union Square. Took the long stroll from Washington Square to the the Trade. And that Love part said hello again.