America’s Guest

When I was younger, my step father used to call my cousin Jill “America’s Guest.” Jill lived in Florida but would travel to NY often and stay at our house or other relatives’. Then she’d travel to other places,  often crashing at friends’ places.

She used to travel with her desktop computer and her dog. The nickname seemed pretty appropriate.

It was all in good fun.

This weekend I haven’t stayed home yet. 

Friday I took Mona out to early birthday dinner and slept at her place, naturally. I drove home Saturday morning.

Saturday night was a Guys’ Night dinner out on Long Island. As I drove out from Brooklyn, I picked 3 friends up. The dinner was raucous, howling fun. We 10 reformed guidos talking of times past, making fun of each other, jabbing all night.  But going home, dropping the friends home, I crashed at the last friend, Darren’s place. Traveling 20 minutes to Brooklyn to search for a parking spot at 230am was not appealing.

Today, Sunday, I went back to Long Island from Darryl’s place, Mona and I went to a park. So nice, great weather, breezy, relaxed, ate a picnic, got some color.

But after that? 

Well my parents are in town and are staying at my brother’s house WAY OUT ON LONG ISLAND.  Going out is bad enough, lots of driving, but I’d have to stay for only 2 hours before driving home to go to bed in Brooklyn.

Unless I spent the night. (Un)fortunately I have no plans tomorrow morning. Fuck it. Luckily  my brother has guest rooms so I don’t have to sleep on a couch.

It’s been worth it… but… I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again.


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