It's too early to wake up. The sun's barely risen. The streets are clean. It's too early for determined Manhattan singles to run in short shorts. It's too early to realize that it's Friday or that I haven't had breakfast or that I slept 4 hours. We take the F train and thankfully Brooklyn and DUMBO's cobblestoned streets come quickly. Soon we are in Karen's car trying to get Silver's I-Trip to lock in on a radio station and play some tunes that will invariably include Bob Dylan. Later, at a rest stop in Rockland county, or Duchess County, or somewhere else I don't frequent, as the world's tallest pan has a continued pay phone conversation, we agree that working batteries make the I-Trip work better.
Silver has brought bananas. Hence the picture. I have candy. Karen has directions. None of this gets us to our destination in under 6 hours. The Taconic is our driving playground under overcast to partly cloudy skies. In a Massachusetts town named Pittsfield, we circle and curse the midday traffic and the traffic lights. We smile at the town of Hoosick (Me sick? We sick? A town obviously established by an opportunistic doctor, Karen surmises). We make wrong turns in Bennington, VT. We make wrong turns in Manchester, VT. We tour the whole town with our wrong turns. We see the surrounding hillside. We find the beautiful Chalet Motel. There is a television and not much to do, a Friendly's in town that makes us feel like we're getting fat, and some rest.
We're here for the wedding of Big Guy (Andy) and Linner (Lindsay). We only know ourselves, Heather and Morgan, the bride and the groom. And the bride's family. It's okay. We're friendly and g-ddamnit, people like us.
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