25 November 2005

The Jersey Tour

Gobble Gobble.

Thanksgiving was gluttonous, as it should be. I spent the day with the family in Western New Jersey, joined by four foriegn food lovers that I brought along for the day. The day was a great success, and all seemed to have a great time. A good Belgian friend of mine made a very fine toast during the meal, my Uncle Chuck blessed the meal with great beauty and a fine choice of words, and my South African friend succumbed to the power of tryptophan on some random couches. In addition, all enjoyed the delicious food cooked by my cousin, the wonderful Tiramisu (did you know that this means "pick me up"?) made by my Italian friend, and the soothing piano music of our very own lovely Portuguese girl.
In short, the event was a perfect new take on a traditional holiday.






At the end of the party, we squeezed into my father's car (6 people in a 4-seater) and drove to the PATH train to drop off some people. My South African friend (KIM) stayed along, having agreed to join my brother and I in one our favorite pastimes.

BOND BROTHER PASTIME

Simply put, PJ and I wallow in shit and relegate it to a holy status. We watch whatever crappy movies we can find on the television (our favorite channels are generally USA and TBS), eat whatever leftovers we can find, or just some crackers and cheese, and drink whatever happens to be around (this can occasionally entail drinking white zinfandel wine or Sambucca or something equally sweet and, to my palate, gross).
And, while we're watching bad television and drinking overly sweet beverages, we talk about how great the movie is and how good the local delicacies are. We're easy to please, I guess....

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And so, we returned to the family homestead, ready to jump right in to some shit movie watching. We were soon joined by a friend of Pj's (of the female persuasion). We soon found ourselves four people, smushed into a small couch in a small room, sipping white zinfandel (Kim called it vinagrette, and said that it would be "lovely with a bed of arugula and some tomatoes), and watching Sister Act.
Now, at some point, Kim interrupted the conversation my brother and I were having (discussing the generally incredible quality of the Sister Act plot, the genius of the acting, the fine musical performances, etc.) to suggest that we actually leave the house and visit a Publick House, bar, or some other sort of festive establishment.

Needless to say, we took Kim's suggestion to heart. and decided to leave the house, (in effect destroying a family tradition) and go somewhere.

JERSEY PRIDE

I love New Jersey. I know New Jersey. I feel New Jersey.
I love to show New Jersey to outsiders (both American and otherwise) and prove to them that, bad rep and all, NJ is OK.
This in mind, I took the opportunity, as we left the house, to use this excursion for dual purposes. We would visit a bar, have some drinks, have some fun....and LEARN about New Jersey at the same time....
I held in my hand the chance to give a South African citizen a truly good impression of New Jersey and inject her with an idea that could then, like a noxious and fast moving (yet non-deadly) disease, spread to the African continent. I knew that if I were to play my cards right, I could begin to change the world's opinion of New Jersey.

And so we visited the most Jersey place in the area, a bar called the Verona Inn. Kim was enthralled, soaking up Jersey culture, and enjoying the following Jersey moments and impressions:

1. We got turned away from the first bar we visited, because of Kim's foreign (non passport) identification. Kim is thirty years old. Oddly, the 18-year old girl that came along with us got in with no problem. She had a fake Delaware license.

2. I ordered a tequila shot for Kim. It was served to me in a small (very small), disposable plastic shot glass. Jersey.

3. A bit banal, but the girls really did have pretty big hair at this bar. The legend continues.

4. Two guys in the bar were engaged in a "pushing contest". Soon after we arrived at the bar, one guy pushed the other guy so hard that he fell on his back and ended up laid out on the floor. He appeared to be nearly suffering from a seizure due to the hard fall.

In truth, the whole night was Jersey, but it becomes too difficult to put labels and names and descriptions onto every Jersey element of the evening. Suffice it to say that everything just felt really Jersey, and I was happy to see that Kim could feel this as well. On occasion, looking over at her, I could see her just sort of spacing out, staring at the people around us, feeling the difference, feeling the beauty, feeling good, feeling at home, feeling Jersey.

1 comment:

  1. I see my crappy sweet wine ain't too crappy to drink tho', is it!!

    Damn kids come home, drink my crappy sweet wine, eat all my greasy leftovers and then complain about it!

    as always
    Your loving Dad

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