Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

I consider it my responsibility to teach the kids important life skills. Like Swedish drinking songs. They almost have it nailed. A couple tweaks and they'll be ready for kräftskiva season.

For several excellent reasons I won’t get into, we watched the Kentucky Derby at a dive bar in Flushing Queens-- dead center, ChinaTown. On the TV, we took in rich whitebread billionaires swanning about in silken spring-themed blazers, white pants and expensive looking hair.  Meanwhile, my immediate vicinity smelled like day old Coors and someone smoking Newports upstairs. Patrons slumped in their barstools, maybe for weeks.  It’s possible that the pock-faced man suffered from an overactive bladder, but curiously, every time he went to the rest room, he chose to go with a new buddy, someone who wandered in off the street. It reminded me of my childhood. There was a lot of economic activity inside the men’s room at the Washington Tavern in my hometown. The restroom in there was like a tiny farmers market. Except in the stalls there were no apples or summer squashes and small bills were preferred.  Remaining on the topic of my hometown… I was kinda thinking things there mi

Photo credit:  Keith Paul Medelis We were at the Pearl Theater watching “ Stupid Fucking Bird .” One of the actors approached the front of the stage. He pulled a photo from his fake actor wallet, held it up and said that he had named his child “Malechov.” It was a dramatic moment. Totally out of context, someone behind us giggled. And it ended in a giant snort. One of those snorts that is much louder than it actually is. Tom, myself and everybody else in the entire audience tried not to laugh. So did the actor on stage. He had to pause and compose himself. Suddenly my evening was better. Even better than it would have been.  And trust me, it was a pretty good evening already despite the pissing rain. First, it was Friday, possibly the best day of the week. Second, on the way to 42nd street, someone randomly walking in front of us said something into her iPhone about sailing. Yes! The perfect opportunity for Tom and I to simultaneously shriek “ Boaty McBoatface &q