As we drove in to New York City and out of the gorgeous Poconos mountains, John Bear and I started wondering if we should have stayed in our peaceful cabin. But we knew his little brother, Patrick, was overdue for a visit. Easily one of the nicest guys on the planet, Patrick gave up his room for the couch so John and I would have a place to sleep. His room, about the size of a walk-in closet only had a few inches surrounding each side of his futon mattress.
We dropped our bags on the mattress and headed out for a drink in the Bronx and on the way home spotted a mysterious trunk waiting to be picked up with someone’s trash. Patrick and his wing man, Thomas, decided the odds of the trunk containing a body were slim to none and picked it up.
At home, with the help of Patrick’s roommate they busted the thing open.
There were so many young dudes around I felt like I was in a college dorm again, only this time I felt entirely too old to be there so I acted the part and told them to tilt the trunk-wardrobe-suitcase thing upright to make a neat hallway dresser.
“And look, you would each have your own little drawer,” I said. So old. Such a mom. Can’t turn that part off, no matter how hard I try. And when I think about it, I’d rather not.
The next morning Patrick let John and I shadow him on his commute into the city for work. [click to continue…]
{ 24 comments }
