bicoastal

Going back home isn't much of a vacation because I mostly run around visiting people and hanging out with relatives, but it was still a nice short break from work and whatnot. I like most of my family, and it's good to see my old friends. We're always pretty stoked to see each other, and, well, it's just nice to know there are people who look forward to seeing you. I get to soak up minor celebrity status for a few days and a lot of things get paid for me. I had White Castles twice, ate at The Diner and did a fair amount of celebrating.

I didn't venture into the city once, because I was too busy and actually enjoying the Staten Island nightlife, which is still lightyears behind Manhattan's after hours goings on, but a vast improvement from what it used to be. The first night, we hit up the bar at Chevy's (illustrated by the flattering picture to the right), not because we wanted to, but because my sister is an intergalactic badass and won a karaoke contest there. The prize was a $50 drink certificate, and we used that thing up right quick. We started off with quality shots of Patron Silver tequilla, but quickly dipped into the cheap stuff like drafts of Coors Light and the delightfully fruity and vaguely homosexual concoction the strapping young men in the photo are imbibing, the so-called "Staten Island Punch." It was made of orange juice, pineapple juice and four kinds of rum and garnished with two types of straws (the flamboyant crazy straw and the direct, mainline black straw, which was much more effective). But after slamming a couple of them, I can attest that the juices were only used for coloring.

Our waiter informed us that the Staten Island Punches were on special, so I ordered one, not knowing what to expect, and what I got was not one, but two fishbowl sized glasses of flashy, sweet alcohol. "They're two for one," the waiter informed me. Well, that was all I needed to know. We pressed on, masculinity somewhat smudged, but still intact.

The rest of the weekend followed suit. I ended up at an open mic night, and shared Irish car bombs with one of my favorite party companions, a tiny Irish girl who must have two hollow legs because she can drink me under the table. I also bumped into a cousin, who I knew as one of the unruly denizens of the mall (when I worked there) before I knew we were related.

Good times were had all around, though in the time I've been gone, rifts have formed between members of my friends and family. I'm kinda stuck in-between the cracks, as most of these things happened while I was away. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just pouring salt in wounds when I go back as me being around kinda brings these things to the surface. I don't like that there's animosity, but there doesn't seem like much I can do about it, since I'm there for a few days to kiss the babies and shake the hands and then I fly off 3000 miles and no longer have to deal with it on a daily basis. I have as many reasons to move back east as I do to stay out here, which makes coming and going very difficult.