Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass
Herb Alpert: Definitive Hits
2006 Friends Boat Ride
Yup. I'm one fly-lookin' Kat, if I do say so myself!
Trini-Pride courtesy of Moshood.
Now avaible in Jamaica. Barbados, Grenada, Guyana, and St. Virgin Islands coming soon...
Ah yes, my latest boat ride. And of course, this adventure doesn't come without a story.
Two Wednesdays ago, I was told that a boat ride was taking place a week from Saturday. The following Friday, with a week from the next Saturday the day of the boat ride, I was asked for the money. For what, I asked. Alisa, the bandleader for this affair, replied that I must not be going. Going where? This was when she informed me that when she told me about the boat ride, that was my invitation. Not a question of what I'd be doing that Saturday, and if I'm not doing anything, do you wanna come to this boat ride; but that the boat ride is coming. That was the invitation. Bewildered, I paid my $40, and it was off to Moshood for a new look.
When I went the first time, I saw the Trini-Pride shirt, and my jaw-drooped. The dude that was there told me $200 for everything (shirt and pant set); but when I went to check the card, I brought the wrong credit card!! I went back Tuesday, and asked how much it was just for the shirt. When a different dude told me $145, I initial reaction was and just $55 more for the pants? He noticed the expression I had and told me it'd be $220 for everything. After explaining what happened Saturday, he was lenient and gave me the outfit for $200. So now I have a linen suit and a Trini-suit for special events.
I went to work Wednesday, and asked if there was some special dress code for this boat ride (a la, the pink-and-white affair of two years ago). The bandleader informed me that there was no special code; but to come properly dressed. I thought about it, and realised that I didn't want to sport all white, and then some jabroni spills liquor on it. Especially Moshood; I'd be highly pissed off.
That Saturday, I was told of the big plan to head out there and enjoy this thing:
I was to be ready by 6:30...
Be at another coworker's house by 7PM, so...
We all could leave Brooklyn by 7:30, so...
We'd be at the boat by 8PM for takeoff.
8PM, eh? Is this black-people-time, or white-people-time?
I figured that if I left work at 4PM, get to the city by 4:45, buy my Kangol Cap by 5:45, I'd be ready after showering and everything by 6:45, and I'd still make it to my coworker's house by 7:15. So I went to the city for my new Kangol Cap; and the bandleader called me to let me know they wish to pull all this off thirty minutes earlier than planned, so they can be there by 7:30. Translation: I had to be home and ready by 6PM. It was 5:30 when she called. Damn.
I virtually flew back home to shower and change. I donned my Moshood shirt, and it looked soooo hot. I found the White Kangol Cap I wore to the Pink-and-White boat ride. I was looking perfect, and good to go. It was 6:30. I called the bandleader to inform her I should just take the train and meet them at the boat. I get no response.
I called my coworker to see what his status was, no response.
Ten minutes later, I called the bandleader once more, she tells me that she is NOW leaving my coworker's house and will meet me in my neck of the woods in ten minutes. It was 6:55 at the time she hung up the phone. I went to Utica Avenue to wait, and chilled with my cabbie. Seven-thirty rolls around; he joked about me still going to the boat ride. I called the bandleader, she said she'll be there in two minutes. Okay, 7:32 black-people-time must be 8:23, right?
"Okay, my bad! Two minutes!!"
Somehow, they made it in front of the McDonald's at Utica Avenue in two minutes.
Now, the haste and aggression in driving that my female coworker had in rushing to this boat ride had only re-inforced my lack of faith in female drivers; due to their constant lateness and consequent rushing, they make up for 70% of all aggressive/offensive driving!! (Don't worry, Haitians, Jamaicans, and men in general make up the other 30%!) We get off the Brooklyn Bridge with ten minutes to go, and the female driver wants the quickest way to the West Side Highway, with the local streets her idea-in-mind. The Bandleader and I quickly agreed the FDR drive was our best bet. But when we got there, the next hurdle to jump awaited us...
Which way?
South. Take FDR South, it becomes the West Side Highway.
"No, no. It's north. See where all the traffic is heading?"
Yeah. But if South Street Seaport is closer to the West Side highway than we are, and FDR South goes to the SSS, then perhaps it's South we should head. You know, South Street Seaport, FDR South...
"Look, I've been here before, it's North."
Okay. I mean, I could be wrong. I've been wrong before.
Needless to describe, let alone say, the anger in the driver's face while we were driving up the East Side, with the Boat Ride all the way on the West Side, and with 5 minutes left.
"My bad, my bad," said the bandleader.
Even after that one, I suggested we get off the next stop so we could get on the South bound traffic and head up the right direction. Again, I was met with opposition, saying that as long as we're here, we might as well go all the way to 42nd Street, and drive straight there. It'd be quicker.
Okay. I mean, I could be wrong. I've been wrong before...
We get to East 42nd Street, and are met with weekend/tunnel traffic; from 1st Avenue, all the way down. The anger in the driver's body had the poor woman beating up her "father's Pathfinder."
"My bad, my bad! Look, I owe you all drinks if we don't make it. We'll just chill at Friday's if we miss the boat, and I'll buy you all drinks..."
This is when I put my foot down.
Look, it's not that bad. It's only, what, 8:10 now. Let's assume that the boat ride is 8PM, black-people-time. This probably means that the boat ain't leaving until 8:30. We get off this street, and use the upper streets to find parking. So we get there for 8:30PM, and we'd have parked for free. I got on my Moshood; we are GOING to this boat ride.
"How do you know the boat ride is leaving at 8:30PM? How do you know using the upper streets will get us there faster? How do you know that we'll find free parking there? How do you..."
...Look. I've been on the money as of late. Hey, if we don't make it, dinner is **gulp** on me, okay?!?!
"Deal!! Deal!! But how do you know the boat ain't leave..."
Damn!! I mean, I could be wrong. I've been wrong before...
**$10 to the kat/kitten who figures out where I got that line from...**
My coworker jumped out the car to go to a North Fork ATM machine. We moved half a block within a three minute time span. He returned shortly thereafter, and the driver put her foot down, turning on Madison Avenue. We ended up on East 48th Street, with not so much traffic, 8:20PM. She honked, screamed, and cursed her life away, until I found a parking space on 11th Avenue, in front of a park somewhere.
"Look for signs somewhere."
No parking between 7AM and 7PM except Sundays.
All right, we've made progress; at 8:25PM.
I walked down past 12th Ave to the WSH, with these girls, wearing heels and wigs mind you, running in tow. They eventually passed me.
"C'mon, we got five minutes left."
They slowed down to walking after realising that I wasn't running.
We finally made to the pier that was boarding for our boat ride.
Our boat was still there.
It was eight-thirty-one.
I snatched my ticket from the bandleader, got on the boat, and sat down to wait for sendoff. As the boat set sail, I managed to get some niiiiceee shots:
That was hot, especially for a Kat under the influence of Alize and Captain Morgan's...
I mean look at my aim and focus...
Compared to that of my coworker's...
**PhotoShop'ed courtesy of yours truly**
I did some drinking, some dancing; I had a decent time. I met a friend of a friend from high school who liked my taste in clothing (considering what everyone else was wearing, I was probably the best dressed guy there.) I wanted to dance with her, but then the "how-you've-been/what-have-you-been-up-to/did-you-graduate/where-did-you-go/where-are-you-working" questions I'd be met with would be too much for me answer. Midnight, the boat-ride was over, and it was time to head home. The "driver," now under heavy influence of some Guyanese drink, was praying in other tongues that the car didn't get a ticket, or worse yet, was stolen. My coworker, also under heavy influence of aforementioned drink, prayed with her as his stomach rumbled. The bandleader, who was holding her fourth Heineken, hinted to me that if the driver was too intoxicated, she wanted to drive the Pathfinder. A heavy sigh later, I nodded okay.
We get to base, and with not a ticket or dent in sight, the Pathfinder awaited us. And being the only Kat on course the entire trip, I was offered the chance to drive the bunch home.
Truly, if God forbid something happened, I wouldn't want that heavy responsibility. Alisa here isn't that bad, so if she don't mind, we'll let her drive...
No sooner did I finish my denial speech did she snatch the keys and hop in the SUV. I escorted the crippled, er, drunken inside, and informed the bandleader that WSH was our best bet it. She may have drove past a couple of red lights. We may have passed a crime scene complete with crowd and dead body on Flatbush Avenue. Yet all in all, she was a good driver. The first many, I hope.
I got off with my coworker at his house, so he could use me as his alibi. Add the fact he left his keys in the house, I was greeted by one pissed off, yet pleasant looking, wife; who grudgingly said that she'd take it from here.
What a nite, y'all. What a nite indeed.
Speaking of the bandleader, this is what I wanted to discuss the last post. Over the last month, I found myself spending quite some time with her. I learned that her boyfriend and her had split, and that she "really isn't in the market right now." We ended up going to dinner and the movies several times (for M:I:III, Lucky Number Slevin, Inside Man, just to name a few...) and we seemed to enjoy each other's company. So much so, that when I told her that I went with my kliq for the Thursday midnight showing of X-Men The Last Stand, she gets offended. Although we spent so much time together, and I've gotten to know her, I still am not attracted to her. Dunno; maybe it was her high fascination with football; or the negative vibes she sends at work; it could be her love for Heineken. Perhaps it is her fascination for Cosmopolitan magazines, Will & Grace, Friends, and other things of the like; combined with her disdain for guys who date white chicks, and try to act white. I've discussed my circumstances with da kilq, and have gotten a 50/50 response: 50% believe I'm a fool for not hitting that with the many "hints" and "opportunities" that I had; 50% believe that she's just looking for a friend right now, and as luck has it, I'm it.
But I'm still left wondering, should I attempt something here? Am I fool for letting this one slip away? So many possibilities, so little time...
(BTW - If you're a fan of the X-Men comics, cartoon show, or anything the like, X3 is definitely not for you. Unless you believe in alternate endings/universes, or are just in it for the action [like me], you will be upset when you leave the theater.)
X3 - The Last Stand: 8 out of 10