captainsblog | Travels and Tales I: Catapults and Meta-criticism

That was quite the week.

I had to work right up to my point of departure, thanks to two clients who were either absent from or totally unprepared for their initial hearing date in late July. The Monday before departure was just full of bad juju; people calling out of the blue, promised financial transactions from clients not going as promised. I got crap sleep that night, some due to all of that but some, I think, due to the antici-

SAY IT!

-of being gone for the better part of three days.

As stressed as the Monday workday was, the little bit of it left for Tuesday morning went smoothly. Both clients showed up, one hearing went perfectly fine, while the other didn't even have to proceed because the client had sufficiently cleaned up his toys in advance of it. I was out of workclothes and on 490 by a bit past 11 a.m., with my guests due to arrive sometime around 5:30. That left me a bit over six hours for the trip which, as I've mentioned, should take just that under normal conditions. Normal includes usually one stop for gas and even a pilgrimage to a beloved diner; it does not include hourlong backups on I-81, which in the summertime are virtually certain. So I tried to avoid that road altogether, taking the predictably long detour down Cayuga Lake and then through Ithaca.

It's always a comfort going down 89, which at times passes within 100 feet of the lakeshore. I also enjoy seeing the string of wineries we've been going to for ages, some still there, other new ones taking over or popping up in between. This time, lots more breweries and distilleries in the mix. But then, a sign promoting something to do when you've had more than one bottle of Cayuga White:

I wonder if they can handle a cow;)

I came out of the back country just north of Binghamton on the dreaded highway- I'd checked DOT websites for construction updates, which were all, What, like we'd tell you?!? Here, have an update on the Prospect Mountain construction site from February! - and, somehow, word leaked out on an overhead sign that there was a 30-minute backup at, what else, the Prospect Mountain construction site. I bailed onto US 11, grabbed Wendy's (no diner for you this time), and rejoined on the other side of the mountain for a nearly nonstop ride down 17, back onto the Thruway, over the Fredo Bridge, through the Bronnix, across the RFK and into the Citi Field parking lot by the very arrival time my friends had announced.....

except THEY were late. Stuck in traffic on Long Island.

So I parked- and almost got into the lot for free. The US Tennis Open was going on at the adjacent stadium, and there was this sign at the Citi Field parking gate:

I actually had her convinced I was a Mercedes (I certainly pay enough for their goddam car washes:P), and I would've been comped if I was going to the Open and not the Mets. So I bit the bullet and paid, so as not to jinx the team that night. (As we will learn, that didn't go all that well.)

At least this time I wasn't ferried halfway across the Fairgrounds like in 2016. So after noting my space was near this touching tribute to the late Bill Buckner-

- I headed over to the Apple to wait. This cheap and chintzy feature of Shea Stadium, where everything was cheap and chintzy, has been relocated outside the new ballpark and serves as a meetup spot for fans coming from different places and by different modes. There's even a plaque, and a chance to take bad selfies at it!

There's a much newer and nicer one inside now; we got to see it rise for rookie Pete Alonso's 42nd home run, which broke the team's record for such things. That was one of the few nice moments of the evening. Meeting these guys was the main one, though:

In the middle, my high school physics teacher, Al "Pistol Pete" Palazzo, who I hadn't seen since the year after I graduated. To his left, his lovely bride Risa, who I had met once and have followed stories from on social media in recent times. Their two sons and the GF of one of them are out of shot (you can only expect so much of the Cubs fan who took that;).

I only ran into one of my fellow fans from the blogging community- a Toronto 7 Line traveler from a year ago. This was my third try catching another dear friend I've never met in person, but every time I wandered to her nearby section, she was out of her seat. On the other hand, I got within handshake distance of the radio broadcast booth, and got these shots of our announcers practicing their craft:

(The TV booth is just past that, but Gary, Keith and Ron have guards below them to keep you from annoying them on the air. Howie presumably just uses the dump button- which probably should have been used for the entire series the Mets lost:P)

No matter, though; spending the evening with a mentor and an artist was joy enough. Al has now been retired from teaching for some time; we met up the next morning for breakfast in a little place just over the Nassau/Suffolk line, and it was good to share everything with them that night except the much-needed Mets win. At least we didn't suffer through rain or a 10-run Cub outburst like fans did the next night, or the "heroics" (?) of a no-name catcher singlehandedly beating the Mets' best pitcher the night after that.

But I had other plans for Wednesday and Thursday, which will follow in a sequel to this post:)