Another Quick Update

 Quick update: Looks as if my very first paid article is going to be published in the next issue of Out in Jersey magazine. Although I have yet to see the final edit, I'm hoping for the best. I did send them a bit more than they asked for, by 600 words, so it'll probable me mostly edited for brevity. I've never had a professional editor reviewing my work before so I'm nervous to see what she's done. Nervous and excited, it's going to be a big learning process and I'm eager for the experience. 
One good sign, the publisher said some kind words about my piece so I'm happy. 

Work has been great, making good money, but my roommate hasn't so, I'm struggling through these months, sweating to make sure I have the rent together. That's not ideal. I'm just waiting to get back to work at Lucy, especially next month, those extra days of work each week will seriously help reduce my anxiety.  

Two plans for summer, though; Pay down my credit cards and saving extra money for another European trip. 

Lucky Rabbit!

Falling is not fun. Actually, not falling is not fun. Let me explain. Yesterday started off as every Sunday has for the last two years or so, with my usual morning routine. Up early, social media, breakfast, feed the cat, prepare for the day of work ahead. I had just finished showering and I decided to clean one of the tiled walls whilst in there, it's a habit I picked up years ago. It's an easier way to clean the shower stall, scrub a different wall every time you're in there and when you don't have to do the entire thing every week, which I always found to be one of the harder chores. As I was putting back the cleaner and turned to rinse myself off one last time, my foot slipped and I began falling backwards through the shower curtain. It literally flashed into my head the scene of me hitting the sink counter and really hurting myself, it was strange seeing it so vividly. I instinctively reached out and grabbed the bar that our previous tenants had, thankfully, installed and caught myself by, I guess with the adrenaline and my reflexes, I yanked myself back so forcefully that I smashed my forehead and nose straight into the tiles. I immediately knew I had hurt myself pretty good, I could feel the welt swelling on my forehead right away. And the blood that began gushing from the cut across the bridge of my nose that I could see dripping down and into the drain told me that my nose wasn't in that great of shape, either. I quickly blew my nose and confirmed that I had blood on the inside, too. The pain of smashing my face was insistent, as you can imagine. I rinsed off, shut everything off and started to dry myself off, trying not to get too much blood all over my towel. Band-Aid, usual after-shower routine and I had to get ready for work. Of course, I had to post a quick social media update because I am 'that person'. 

To add to my misery, on the way to work the Jitney I was on was stopped at Texas Ave. for much longer than usual. From where I was sitting, I couldn't tell if there was an accident or just weekend traffic going across the city. I pulled out my ear bud and heard the driver talking to another one about a gas issue. After a little more fussing around, the driver announced that he was, indeed, out of gas and we'd all have to take the next bus coming up behind him. We squeezed into that bus and off we went down Pacific Ave. until I finally got off at my stop and walked to the Distillery and was a half-hour late for work. 

Can't verify the Year of the Rabbit is a lucky one, since my very first day of the new lunar calendar was so... eventful. 

Catching Up

 The war continues to rage in Ukraine, the images coming back of bombed out homes and maternity hospitals is sickening. I have shed a few tears over it. Something needs to happen to stop this madness. 

My friend Khoi died over the weekend, initially under mysterious circumstances but it was later revealed, by the local west coast news media, that it was an overdose. It surprised me, I had no clue he did drugs. Although I can't imagine he would have done anything it knowing it was laced with fentanyl but we weren't that close so I'm not sure what he was into. It's very sad, he was someone I really liked and always made me smile. 

Went to a meeting last night concerning plans for some sort of Pride event in Atlantic City this coming June. I have my reservations, it's awfully late to plan something like this, it should have been in the works last year, and heavily promoted for months now. I'm still on the fence about how much weight to throw behind it. I think I'll wait until the emails consolidating all the ideas discussed at the meeting are sent out and make my decision then. I'm torn between my desire to make this a great event for Atlantic City and my experience as to how hard it is to producing events like this. It won't be easy to make this even moderately successful. 
And then there's the distrust I have for City Hall. They've made many strides in the LGBTQ+ direction but I have my suspicions. I've lived here far too long not to have suspicions. 

Back to work this weekend, it's unofficially St. Patrick's Day weekend so it might be busy. Although we're not really an Irish bar but the VUE wasn't an Irish bar and we were always slammed during this weekend. 
After the meeting last night, several people remarked about how they heard how busy we've been at Little Water, it was good to hear. I want the Distillery to be well known in the city, and a destination place, even if it's not on the main drags of the Boardwalk or the Orange Loop. I'm all in with Mark and Guy and I want them to be successful.
As I've always said, when the house makes money, I make money! 

Watched and finished The Andy Warhol Diaries on Netflix and was obsessed with it. Lots of footage that I've never seen before of Andy in his private life, all very interesting. I'm definitely going to rewatch the series at some point. 

An Entry, Mundane.

War is still raging in Ukraine, I fear the West's sanctions and condemnations have only stiffened Putin's resolve and have given him now way out. Although, this entire exercise was sheer madness from the very beginning. There was no reason to invade Ukraine to begin with and now that he's done so, I fear for the Ukrainian people that Putin is committed to see it done to it's bitter and bloody end. 

I finally visited Sally, my 'step-mother' (although I don't really think of her that way), after her hip-replacement surgery. She's in great spirits and seems to be healing nicely. She's currently on oxygen and she had some post-op blistering on her right foot but she can walk around for short bursts without a cane and I was happy to see her recovering so quickly. I may take her reclining chair that she's using right now to sleep in, she can't sleep in the bed yet. Got to see my father as well, he's doing well. Everytime I go he offers me something odd, this time it was a CD player. I declined. But as he often jokes, I'm going to have to go through all of their stuff anyway when they croak (his words). And I invariably look around after he says that and shudder at the thought of sorting through their collection of... things.
As Scarlett O'Hara says, 'I'll think about it tomorrow.'

I am concerned, though, about an incident they both told me about separately. Evidently, some young kids have been harassing them, banging on the house, throwing their basketball on their roof, making mischief. In one incident, the police were called. My father is hot headed, even now in his 80's, and although he's spry he's not a young man. I may have to talk to some AC cop friends to keep an eye on their house. 

The weather has been rollercoasting, each day is completely different, sometimes very warm, sometimes bitterly cold. As much as I love my winter, I wish Mother Nature would make up her mind and stick to one season. Right now it's in the twenties, in two days it will be in the seventies. That's ridiculous. 

I'm reading an article in The New Yorker about an author who's genre is autofiction, a mix of autobiography and fiction. I remember about a decade or so ago that more than a few authors were taken to task for 'embellishing' their autobiographical novels. The truth will out, so to speak. This new-to-me genre is intriguing to me, since I naturally embellish many stories I tell about my past. I'm gay. And a former drag queen. And a bartender. It's my nature. I'm thinking that it's nice cheat to writing that book I've always contemplated but have yet to do. This way, I can say it's autofiction and make half of it up! Win/Win. 

Today finds me hitting the gym again (third time this week!) and taking care of Charity's cats. I also HAVE to go to the bank so I can pay the rent/bills. I can not wait to find a second job, although the weekends have been very good at the Distillery, one bad Saturday could doom me. 

Miss Patti sent over a packet of photos from the early nineties, mostly involving my drag shows, specifically Mortimer's Cafe. That was a time in my life where I never was seen out of drag, especially in the clubs. I've posted a few of them on Facebook and Instagram. The memory lane they took me on was nice to travel down. 

A Facebook Emotional Landmine

My Facebook post from one year ago, wasn't ready to ugly cry this morning: I wanted to thank all of you for your kind words and support. Losing my little buddy has been really hard and I don't think I could have handled it without the messages, comments, cards, and yes, the booze, that came pouring in. I am blessed with the most beautiful gift any human could have, friendship. And I love all of you so deeply.

My little guy was something special. Only a handful of you actually met him in person but, as my sister said, 'he was one of the most amazing cats ever'!

I want to give you one more Marmalade story, just because:

I was up early this morning and had breakfast and was thinking about going to the gym. But I was still a little hungover from the event last night. I decided to curl up in bed again, my empty bed, and I dozed off right away.

I started dreaming. I was on the bed, it was bright and sunny, the light was streaming in the windows to my bedroom and I was feeling the warmth in the room. Marmalade was next to me and I was talking to him and petting him, his fur was so soft and he was purring, looking at me like he always did when we snuggled. His eyes half shut the way they did when he was really content. But then I said, Wait... you died. You can't be here.

And with that, he disappeared.

Although it was only a dream, it was nice to be able to spend one more moment with him. To feel his fur, his warmth, his purring.

If any cat was going to haunt my dreams, it was going to be Marmalade!

Thank you all again for compassion and your love. It helps more than you know.

The Present World And My Possible Future

The war in Ukraine is still raging on, the videos and photos coming out of the country are heartbreaking. I fear it's going to get much, much worse before anything changes. What shocks me are all the different reports that the Ukrainian people seem to have been taken by surprise. Not many of them have prepared for an invasion, even with hundreds of thousands of Russian soldiers massed at their borders. I suppose I can understand, to a point, we haven't had a European conflict in many decades, and the thought of one seemed almost ludacris. The very fact that Putin has even considered doing this almost unfathomable. And yet, knowing that they were right on the border and weren't leaving would have caused me grave concern. I would have, at the very least, stockpiled food and maybe found a way to get a weapon for protection. 
I don't know. I can hardly imagine something like that happening. Living here in the United States has afforded me a very different outlook on things. Aside from 9/11, and the constant mass shootings all over the country, it's pretty stable here. I've never felt the fear of invasion and I don't know how I would react. 
Probably like those Ukrainians who couldn't conceive of something this terrible happening. 

Back to my back pain; it's not as bad but I am still having a hard time going from sitting to standing. The sitting position seems to lock up my muscles and nerves and when I go to stand, it takes a few minutes to walk without pain. I probably need surgery, I'm sure it's something fixable but that isn't going to happen anytime soon. It hasn't stopped me from going to the gym. My desire to look better is stronger than the pain in my lower back. I may take it easy today, I have to work tonight and being on my feet for so long doesn't do any good, either. 

I keep getting casting notices for productions in NYC and I am itching to go up and act again, but the covid-19 protocols would make it financially improbable for me to do it. The CDC has just issued new guidelines today about masking and such, I'm hoping that, by the time The Gilded Age resumes production, most of the restrictions will be lifted and I can just shoot up to film like I did for Boardwalk Empire and The Knick. My little stint in drag last October made me realize how much I miss performing.

I've never talked about this publicly before but, I'm having a hard time reading. The best way I can explain it is that I've developed a form of dyslexia, words jumble, letters go missing, it's damned frustrating. I don't know what to do about it, or even if it's fixable. I have been reading books since I was a small child, reading was what got me through a very troubled childhood of growing up gay and the painful divorce of my parents. I escaped into the worlds of science fiction and fantasy and now this simple but important pleasure is being robbed of me. I can read, but only for very short bursts. I have so many books waiting for me but they take forever to get through and I'm not retaining the info as well since I can only read small bits at a time. I'll have to research it although that requires... reading! 
And considering I've started practice writing again to maybe, finally, hopefully, write a book, this is going to be a very difficult process. 

I guess it's time to get something done.   

War Is Stupid

 What everyone knew and what was stupidly but seemingly inevitable, Russian 'President' Vladimir Putin has invaded Ukraine overnight and they are now at war. Predictably, the stock markets are plunging, non-military targets are getting hit, people are dying over there, hemming, hawing, and the far-Republican right is... cheering Russia on. Some of the stranger justifications; Russia only has two genders. The Russian army doesn't have sensitivity training. The gays! I'm not sure how they take these leaps from culture wars to actual geo-political warfare where people are dying because some old dude is sad the U.S.S.R. broke into smaller bits but the GOP/far right lost their minds a while ago so justifications are unnecessary and futile. 
My fear, although I may be sounding a bit like Chicken Little, is that this small regional war will somehow morph into the first global conflict of the new millennia. China, thankfully, seems to want to ignore what's going on, and our NATO allies are all aligned, it seems the only people happy this is happening is Putin, Fox News and the red half of the United States. 
In hindsight, assigning red to the political right was prescient. 

I managed to injure my back yesterday at the gym, and I knew right away that I shouldn't do the extra weight but I was feeling my oats and did it anyway. I managed to finish my workout but the pain is noticeable. I'm not completely disabled but don't ask me to pick anything up that I might drop on the floor. It'll either take a while or it'll just have to stay there. 
And yes, I'm still going to the gym today. Tomorrow is a wash-out for the most part so this is my only clear window the get another workout in. I'll rest tomorrow and hopefully be much better by Saturday for an early morning workout before work. Sadly, my little injury forced me to miss that little taste of spring we had yesterday, I pretty much stayed in bed chewing Advil. Meh, summer and the sweltering heat will be here soon enough. 

Joe cleaned the flat yesterday, so, of course, the landlord decided to fix/replace the back screen door. It needed to be done, and the repairman was very polite and efficient, he even fretted about Oliver getting out and running away. Joe reassured him that Oliver knows he's royalty in this house and will never leave willingly! I'm actually happy with the new door, it's got a replaceable screen for summer and he adjusted the closing mechanism to make sure it shuts completely every single time, no more wind gusts blowing it open and bending it our of frame. 
On a side note, I'm do happy the Joe is learning to use the Alexa dot in the kitchen. He's learned to play music and sometimes asks it questions. If you know Joe, you know what a big technological step this is for him. 

My cousin Dawn is in Florida visiting the parents, I had made tentative plans to join her but I'm too poor right now. I really need to find a little mid-week job, I miss having fun money. 

To whomever is reading my little blog, Thanks! and sorry for the drudgery. It'll get better, I promise. 

President's Day Weekend

Holiday weekends are fun, as long as you don't work in the industry. If all of you have off, all of us have to work that much harder!

The phenomenon of President's Day weekend began during my days at the Studio Six. The formerly sleepy little holiday began turning into a mid-winter party holiday that rivaled New Year's Eve and quickly became the better one, at least for nightclub staff. Where New Year's Eve is derisively known as 'amateur night', at least President's Day was full of your more regular club kids (meaning night club regulars, not the eighties definition) who knew how to handle their drugs and alcohol. Now it seems to have spilled over to day drinkers, at least as evidenced by this past weekend. Friday was not very busy but it gave us a chance to discuss plans for the following day, since we had ninety-six people on our reservations, a very high number for a place like the Distillery. That also meant that the walk-ins were going to be massive as well. 

Saturday didn't disappoint.

Right out of the gate, we were busy, with two large tour groups coming in and many other four-tops, around forty people sat in a matter of minutes. The tours give me a small window to breathe, since most of the people are there for the actual tour and I only have to make a handful of drinks right away, it's the end of the tour that I start getting slammed and once that happened, most of the rest of the day was a blur. Thankfully, my roommate (and ex) was there acting as my barback. I told everyone, he was there for me and me alone, I needed to know that all the other stuff was being done behind me so I can pump out the cocktails as quickly as possible. He kept the glasses clean, my bottles full, and general clean-up and it lowered my stress levels considerably. I don't think I could have done it without him there. Emily, our diva server and bartender in training, was also a godsend, she keeps a lid on things and everyone is a little afraid of her, which is (generally) good. Towards the end of the day, I did get to sit for a minute with some friends and chat, it was nice to take a little break right before we shut and started getting the bar ready for the next day. As you can see, I don't have much to say about the day as a whole, my total focus all day long was on making drinks, about two hundred and forty in all over the shift. On a side note, I giggled a little when our Little Water Distillery social media page shared all the people's Instagram photos of their drinks when they were there and I realized that I had made every single one of them. 

And they all looked perfect, if I do say so myself. It's nice to see the positive feedback, though, after such an intense but fun day. 
Sunday came and, although not as busy as the day before, it was far busier than most Sundays there. Without the extra staff on hand, and still a little exhausted from the day before, I was getting a little harried with having to clean glasses and do the set-ups, our drinks can get quite complicated so every little bit of help makes my job easier and more efficient. We strive to make sure each drink is handcrafted and fresh, no pre-made watered-down cocktails. I prefer it that way but it's unavoidably time consuming. Our regular guests know that going in, and we do remind everyone when we seat them, but the pressure is on me to make sure it's done as quickly as possible. Thankfully, all my decades of training at the Studio Six and elsewhere prepared me for high-volume bartending. We made it through and I was home before seven o'clock, which was a happy surprise.
And nothing makes the day fly by like being mad busy! 
I think I was dead asleep by eight thirty. 

All in all, it was a great weekend for the Distillery. The next big event is our fifth anniversary which, if it's anything like last year, will be a record breaking day! 

Nothing Of Consequence

The weekend is here, but today will be the last in the nice stretch of weather we've been enjoying. Tonight another cold front moves in bringing what will probably be the last arctic blast and appreciable snow for the season. Not sure what today will bring at work, last Saturday was mad busy. And last night was pretty good, not crazy but very steady. The night went fast. Haven't been to the gym in a few days, I may run down there quickly after writing this entry just to get a quick workout in. I don't want to go back down the path of being a lazy bitch.  

I'm listening to Madam Butterfly by Malcolm McLaren as I write this and it's bringing up memories of a past lifetime. It was always one of my most favourite numbers to perform. Sadly, I lost the beautiful costume Patti had made me. Drag seems to have come into a resurgence here in South Jersey, there are drag shows and events and brunches all over the place. Good for them, I'm happy in my retirement. 

Short entry, time to get my ass in gear. 

Boring, But That's February For You

Writing a little later than I wanted but I already forgot that I was supposed to devote a bit of my early morning routine to this little endeavor so... you get this now. 

Woke up after a rather good night's sleep. Recently I've been having some sleep issues, waking up after a few hours ready to start my day and then taking forever to get back to sleep. Or I'm overheated during the night and wake up in the middle of nightmares. Having a full night of slumber uninterrupted was a small blessing. 
My usual morning routine has become a little 'Groundhog's Day' in it's repetition, which is a little boring but it does strangely appeal to my German side. Having a routine is comforting in it's way. I suppose it's also an off-shoot on my OCD, doing things in a particular order over and over again means all is right with the world. And Oliver seems to like it, we have our little dance worked out, feeding him, then he sits in the window for about an hour, then it's petting time, then it's play time, then it's back to the window. Maybe I was a cat in a past life. 

I got to the gym early and it was already full of people I didn't recognize but they were obviously from the A.E.W. pro wrestling show that was being filmed later tonight in Atlantic City. Lots of tattoos, dyed hair, very well build bodies, it was a little intimidating trying to work out around them, I have to admit. And, truth be told, some of them were really nice to look at! I did manage to get a really good workout in, maybe having so many fit people around me made me push myself a little more. 

I was going to walk home on the Boardwalk but the winds had picked up from earlier and the breeze was coming right off the ocean making it seem much colder than it actually was so, I ducked back into the Tropicana to get back to Pacific Avenue and the Jitney stop, passing even more pro-wrestlers wandering all over the casino and hotel area. 

I have plans to attend the BeVisible function at Wingcraft tonight with Charity. BeVisible seems to have taken the torch from the former Greater Atlantic City GLBT Alliance, hosting monthly mixers and events. I haven't been to Wingcraft in a long time so I'm interested to return and see if it got any better. One of our many Food & Beverage directors at the Claridge had left the hotel to manage over there. I'm hoping to see him if he's still the manager. 

My mother and step-father played cards with some friends two days ago and were told yesterday that the other couple tested positive for Covid-19. I'm hoping they didn't contract the virus, and if they did, the booster shots will do their job and mitigate the symptoms. Most people who've had the booster report milder symptoms, more like a nuisance cold. On the other side of the family, my step-mother had hip replacement surgery last Friday and was in hospital for a few days with minor complications. She got home yesterday so I'm going to pop over to see her and make sure she's okay. 

Hoping to work back at Lucy the Elephant sooner rather than later, the gift shop should be opening longer hours soon and maybe I can get a few shifts. I love working there even if the pay is not really all that much. 

Promises Kept, Day One

 I said I was going to try to write a little each day, and here's my first entry. 

The cheeky part of me wanted to leave that last sentence there and go on about my day but my better nature won out. To continue...

It's an early February morning, the outside air warming up above the usual chilly averages. That's welcome news, my 1950's summer home isn't very well insulated and once it goes below 30 degrees outside, my baseboard heating can't keep up. It's not unusual for my roommate and I to be bundled up in hoodies and sweaters during the day indoors. I don't have much planned for today, poverty keeps your idle and humble. Aside from the gym, I might attempt to run a few errands in the city (bank, drug store, Lucy) and then see to getting these closets sorted out. Helene's clothing filling up all the usable space in the living room and hall closets are weighing on me like the overburdened racks her clothing is hanging on at the moment. A lot of my frustration is Joe's fickle moods, he'll talk a lot about what he wants to do but getting him motivated in that direction is the hard part. And right now, I need him to sort through all of Helene's bins of clothes that are stacked in his room so I can use them to thin out the closets. 
I seriously just want to bag it all up in a bin liner and leave it out for the garbage truck. Although I'd probably have to pay them to haul away everything, there's just so much of it! 

My gym progress has been hit-or-miss. I can't do a lot of exercises that I used to be able to do, even with those long-term pains from injuries long ago. Those nagging and painful reminders have become much more pronounced as I get older and there are some things I can't do anymore. It's frustrating, obviously, but I make do with what I can do and ignore all the things I find fault with. But I have to say, I'm surprised I look as good as I do, I didn't think I could bang myself into this sort of shape ever again. Hopefully, by summer, I'll be closer to where I see myself. 

Financially, things have been a little stressful. Losing my Lucy the Elephant tour guide job until probably June has put a burden on my checkbook. I have my usual savings that I count on during the leaner winter months but paying for the dryer repairs was not budgeted and I'm feeling a little panicky about how far I can stretch things. And I have to buy a 5G capable mobile before next month, another large expense I didn't plan for. I've been scouting around for another part-time job but I haven't found anything yet. Well, anything of my station, lol. I may be back to scrubbing toilets if things don't change soon. I did have a spectacular weekend at the Distillery, hopefully that trend will continue. 

Planning on attending the BeVisible LGBTQ soiree tomorrow night at Wingcraft, a local chain restaurant at The Walk in Atlantic City. It's one of those all-the-same-faces events but I feel like I've become too much of a hermit, socially, so I'm trying to get out more and cultivate new friends. And I did go on a 'date' a few weeks ago, although I'm not sure about that, I may be barking up the wrong tree. It's strange how I spent most of my life on stage performing and behind the bar performing, craving that attention from everyone and now all I want to do is grab my cat and watch the telly. It's crazy how one's priorities can change so radically. The very fact that I'm usually in bed by nine o'clock every night still shocks me. 

Let's see where the day takes me, I think this is a fair amount of writing for my first (official) day back to writing again. 

Fingers Crossed

 I'm going to attempt to revive this dusty old blog of mine, who knows if I'll keep up but I've had the urge to write again and I need to stretch this long dormant muscle. The daily posts will be dreadful to read but bear with me, I have some ideas (novel, short stories, essays) that I've wanted to finally get to now that I'm entering these 'silver' years. The gods know I've had stranger career changes in the past, who knows where this might lead. 
I do realize that no one will be reading this entry, and probably won't be reading those I post in the future, but for that hopeful stalwart that might be out there, this could be fun. 
Goals: 
1. Do a 'Tales of the City' style series about AC. 
2. Chronicle local events. 
3. Finally write that 'tell all' about the Studio Six. 

And other ideas that are knocking around this addled brain of mine. 

But first, I need to get back in the habit of writing. Maybe I'll do an hour each morning, just to start. A little mental exercise before hitting the gym. Let's see where this takes me...

Reopening Musings

It's only ten days in. Ten. I feel like a convoy of trucks have repeatedly hit me on a Texas highway. Reopening day was nearly total chaos, thankfully I have a great crew and we were able to persevere through all the madness. And as each successive day came by, we got a little better at handling the chaos as it got more and more chaotic. Although I continued to stress the new coronavirus protocols, we service industry people are finding it harder and harder to force our guests to follow them. It's a mix of the indestructibility of youth, the politicisation of mask wearing, and alcohol that makes our jobs that much more difficult. And now we are approaching another expansion of the social distancing rules, I can't see this getting any easier. 
And I fear another shut down, since the virus numbers are beginning to rise throughout the country again. That 'second wave' might be happening long before the fall sets in. We have a long way to go. Hopefully a vaccine will be found sooner rather than later.
Jumping right into the summer season did not help at all! 
And it's been hard for me to get back into the swing of things. With all the added problems/conditions at the bar, the coronavirus protocols, the dinner and breakfast service, having to fill in on all the missing shifts I can't seem to staff, we are getting back to our weekly meetings and routines. The workload has been tremendous and I've been working twelve hour days all this time. 
And then there's the problem of finding help. Thankfully all of my staff came back but with the new dinner service, we need a lot more help. I've been interviewing but finding people that can pass a drug test, have adequate experience, are willing to stop collecting their unemployment, and actually show up for interviews has been seriously difficult. And I'm uneasy about hiring people I know, that almost always turns into an issue.
Time to suit up and get back into the fray.  

Countdown

The week is nearly done and re-opening day is coming up fast. It's been a lot of work, organising, cleaning, ordering, scheduling, changing protocols, there's so much to do to get the bar open again after three months of a stay-at-home pandemic shutdown. And the coronavirus protocols haven't made it any easier, they are needed and we are confident to reopen safely but the extra steps will take some getting used to. And there's the problem with other humans, we are an unpredictable lot and making sure our guests follow the new rules will be a test of our service industry skills, especially with the country so divided over what's safe. In our social media world, going viral during a pandemic for the wrong reasons is an insidious irony and I want to make sure we get this right. Not to mention the local and state agencies breathing down our necks with inspections and visits. I'm confident. But I've worked here long enough to know that we plan, the Claridge laughs. She's a beautiful building but she has a mind of her own. Ninety years of standing tall gives her that privilege and the unpredictable happens there on nearly a daily basis. 
I'm confident. 
Looking ahead, though, I doubt I'll be getting a day off or much sleep for at least the next week. It's so important to make this a success, I'll have to be there around the clock to make sure everything is done right. 
On a personal note, two of my friends have had serious health scares within a week of each other and I feel so terrible that I can't drop everything and help them through it. They have significant others in their lives so I know they are being well cared for but I feel like I'm a rotten friend because my life is so consumed with work. 
Although I want to write more, I have so many things to do before work I have to end this here. Changing out my seasonal wardrobes, getting some exercise in, getting ready, and then it's off to work all day. 

Back In Business (Soon)

I had my third manager's meeting at the Claridge on Wednesday. After weeks of speculation and waiting, we finally got the go ahead to reopen the VÜE Rooftop Lounge, albeit in a slightly altered state. Since the governor's executive order prohibits us for now from allowing guests in the bar itself, or in the Twenties Bistro down on the sixth floor, we are going to combine them and have dining on the rooftop decks, weather permitting. It will be a challenge, since our bar kitchen is rather small so we'll have to utilise the kitchen in the Twenties for the dinners, and there are issues of staffing and logistics to overcome but I'm confident with the help of our executive chef Craig Johnson, and my friend Lance LaBarre, who's also our banquet manager, we'll be able to get it all sorted out before reopening day. We have a good week to get it all together, which is no time at all but plenty of time for service industry folk, I've personally created magical events with far less time and little preparation. I have confidence that with a lot of espresso and a few nips of vodka here and there, we'll pull it all together by the fifteenth of June. 
It's not going to be easy, though. The pandemic is still raging, the George Floyd protests are still raging, now globally, the rioting and looting hasn't totally stopped, people are still out of work, people are still scared of getting sick, no one is traveling, the health protocols are going to be a necessary issue, we are now in June, losing three months of momentum going into the summer season, none of this is going to work in our favour. My strategy is to going to be to try to walk that fine line between shameless promotion and just under the radar, if there is such a place. Although I am very politically motivated, when it comes to the livelihood of my staff and the experience of my guests, I don't want to turn the reopening into a political statement to be used by various factions, it seems everything nowadays gets polarised and divisive. Here's hoping for the best possible outcome. 
I'll say this, it will be nice to have purpose again. I've felt unmoored these last few months, as all of us have, and I'm itching to replace the tedium of these seemingly endless repetitive days with the tedium of putting out little service industry fires every five minutes, throwing in a Karen here and there for shits and giggles.
Looks like I won't have a day off for a few weeks, I better enjoy these last days of 'freedom'. 

The First Day Of June

I had slept hard and deep. The emotions of the day before had exhausted me to my core and at the moment I fell asleep, I slipped in to a deep unconscious state. When I awoke, I was quickly reminded of the events from the day before, everything came flooding back and my sense of defeat was palpable. It didn't help that before turning in, I watched the mayor of Atlantic City on a Facebook live feed berating the residents of the city for the looting that happened. Not directly, but he wanted to know why they didn't stop it. It was a speech born of our collective frustration but I had wanted to hear something more concrete, more hopeful, more leadership. Instead, my only thought was, Mommy, why is daddy hollering at us? 
He did mention that he was holding a press conference at the Walk in the morning and after which the clean-up effort would begin. I readied myself and coordinated with some friends to meet there at eleven o'clock to see how we could help. 
My friend Jerry came to collect me and we drove into the city. We ended up having to do a few turns around the Walk area, since the police had the entire district blocked off to all traffic, in order to find a place to park and get to the press conference. When we arrived, Mayor Marty Small was already speaking, the local press were there with cameras and reporters taking up most of the area directly in front of the mayor. The crowd was several hundred strong, mostly business owners, workers, managers, and community activists from a cross-section of Atlantic City. All races and genders and social standings were represented, and that felt good. I chatted with my former Claridge coworker, Timmy Algarin for a bit, said Hi to familiar faces here and there in the crowd, and eventually found my friend Nathan Bryson (curator of the Boardwalk Hall Organ Restoration Project, native of North Carolina with the adorable accent to prove it) at the opposite end of the intersection and we hung together listening to the mayor finish up his speech. It was hard to catch any of the particulars, I'm sure the words 'resilient', 'rebuild', 'unacceptable', 'stronger' and others were used. Personally, I could care less. The time for talk was long over, it was time for action. But a politician will flutter around a microphone like a moth to a flame so we waited until he exhausted the usual platitudes and he directed us to the middle of Michigan Avenue to get our assignments for cleaning up after the riot and looting. I did notice that much of the heavy work had been done, either the city had been there earlier to board up the broken windows or the shop managers themselves had people there to get everything secured. I did notice the Brooks Brothers window was still shattered, but I could tell the shop hadn't been looted. That made me giggle, the kids don't wear Brooks. 

Although it was good to see that some progress had already been made. 
I half-jokingly whispered to Nathan that they probably don't have a well thought out action plan. I quickly figured out that they didn't. 
Side note: There was an agitator circling around us on his bicycle, very loudly interrupting everything the mayor and the city coordinator were saying about the clean-up effort, I'm not sure what exactly his message was but he was adamant that he wasn't going to do no cleaning and that black people needed justice and were oppressed. I found it all slightly amusing, since he was yelling this at the black mayor and a lot of the black leaders of Atlantic City. And to the crowd of mixed races all working together for a common goal, to heal our city. But I often find the dark humor in things, it's my coping mechanism. 
Back to the clean-up details. The mayor was on the phone with the head of the Special Improvement District getting information and once he was done, we were given very general directions and very general instructions about what needed to be done. Basically this: Grab some brooms/bin liners/trash grabbers/shovels and go find stuff to clean. Which is exactly what we did. Since I had watched the video the day before of where they looters marched and caused havoc, we decided to follow their route and see what we could find. We met up with our fellow do-gooders here and there, we had all spread through the city and were combing the streets and parking lots, filling up the trash bags with anything we could find, looting related or not. Nathan and I made our way down Atlantic Avenue, picking up whatever we saw. Liquor bottles and beer cans being the predominate refuse. Many of the shops along there had their windows boarded up, either proactively or afterwards, I'm not sure but there wasn't too much damage along there. We turned up Pennsylvania Avenue where the TD Bank is, which is also the branch I regularly use. I had watched it live as the looters smashed the window on the side of the building, shattering it but that was all they did, moving on through the city. Because it's my branch, I knew what office was there and felt bad for the person who regularly uses it. She helped me set up my credit cards for my European trip. The window was already boarded up although the shattered glass was still there, but we didn't have the right tools to clean it up so we moved along to Arctic Avenue, following the route from the day before. We talked as we attacked different piles of garbage, putting everything in our new liner, we had grabbed a fresh one from another crew on the avenue. The locals along the way asked what we were doing, and once we told them, one of the little corner store owners offered us some water. We declined but that was really nice. At one point, the mayor drove by, stopping to thank us for our efforts. He and I have only ever met at large galas so he didn't recognise me, especially with the mask on. It was very nice of him, I'm sure two lily-white boys with a trash bag and gloves stood out in that neighborhood (editor's note: I grew up a few blocks away on Virginia Avenue). As we passed the Superior Courthouse, where Nelson Johnson was a judge before retiring (he authored 'Boardwalk Empire', the book that inspired the HBO show), the windows were boarded up along the back. I had watched them getting shattered live as well, it was good to see them secured. We made our way by City Hall, then back along Arctic Avenue until finally returned to where we started, the middle of the Walk Outlets. 
We decided we had done our part, we filled four large trash bags, and figured we should head home. There wasn't much more to do, there were a lot of volunteers spread throughout the city doing the exact same thing. We did bump into Nick Pittman, local weatherman, and his husband Brandon. They asked where they should go and we directed them to Gardner's Basin, the mayor said there was some clean up needed at the sea wall and we didn't think a lot of the volunteers had been over there yet. 
Nathan gave me a lift home and talked about the renovation progress on his new house, and then we said our goodbyes when I got to my house. 
I hopped on the social medias, there were rumors of busloads of looters on their way to the city! Antifa is mobilizing to protest in Atlantic City! Another big protest is being planned! I did what I could to quell all the fears and dispel the false rumors and then rested. 
I didn't do all that much, I freely admit, but it was something I had to do. 
I HAD TO.

The Last Day Of May

Sunday morning. 
I was mulling over the day before, which wasn't much to mull over from a personal triumph perspective, since we've been on a coronavirus lockdown for months. I was still nursing the loss of Larry Kramer, a man I never met but someone who's life and rage informed mine in ways that changed me, gave me my voice, and made me the man I am today. His no-holds-barred activism during the AIDS Crisis led me to join the Act-UP movement and cause some mayhem and civil disobedience during that pandemic. We, collectively, changed the world back then. And now the entire country has been in the grips of peaceful protest over the tragic death of George Floyd at the knee of a Minneapolis cop and the sinister and unfortunate side effect of such mass protest, the rampant looting and damage that always seems to follow. As I was commenting on Facebook in the early morning about the situation, my good friend Miss Ten'e told me of a protest planned for the early afternoon at the Atlantic City Police Station, she sent me the sparsely detailed flyer to read. I mulled it over briefly and considered attending, I guess the nostalgia of my Act-UP days was still lurking in the back of my mind, but I decided against going. Those days of my youth were better served in my youth. I wasn't sure if I should reignite those dormant passions, I freely admit, I've become complacent and comfortable in my little world.
The morning moved along, I half-heartedly tried writing a blog post but I wasn't really inspired so I changed tack and decided to plan my day, such as it was. When your choices are whether you should watch the news or continue your binge-watching of some silly show for the rest of the day, there's not much to get excited about, considering that's been the majority of your life for the last two months. Lance contacted me wanting to know if I wanted to do our daily walk that day, he had had enough of his shelter-in-place family and needed to get out to clear his head. I wasn't keen on going, it was a beautiful day, it was Sunday, and the protest was going to happen in the city. I didn't want to deal with the weekend shoobies during this pandemic and whatever might happen should the protest turn like it did so many times in so many cities before. Considering my options ahead of me, though, it didn't take long for me to change my mind about taking a walk. I wanted to get out and enjoy the day. And, truth be told, maybe we'd see a little of the protest and I'd enjoy it vicariously from a distance. We decided to go a bit earlier than normal so I got ready and was out the door in short order.
We met at our usual spot on the Boardwalk at the border of Atlantic City and Ventnor and off we went into the city. As expected, it was pretty busy with tourists, bicyclists careening through the crowds, kids playing, all the usual suspects you'd expect on a late in May day. Mostly everyone was masked, although I don't wear mine when I'm not in a group. Lance and I talked through our individual (not really coping) issues and we laughed and made light of each other's problems. It helps. I told him about the protest, said Ten'e was going to be there but we kind of dropped the subject until we got further into the city and closer to where it was being held. As we approached the Tropicana from the Boardwalk side, Lance asked if I wanted to go check out what was going on, since the police station is directly up the street from there. We agreed to take the little side track and see what we could see.
As we walked up Iowa Avenue, I was a little surprised to not see throngs of people heading that way, it all seemed a little quieter than I expected, especially since it was pretty close to the time it was supposed to start. We got to the corner at Atlantic Avenue and looked across the street and saw a small gathering of people in front of the station, and some more gathered on our side of the street. Some of the shop owners were boarding up their businesses as a protective measure, since, as I stated above, these things seem to get out of control when they've been held in other cities. It's easier to put up some plywood than replace a pane of plate glass. It wasn't before long that I spotted Ten'e across the street, saying hello to everyone there and immediately holding court, as she always does wherever she goes. Lance and I held back, thinking that we'd be leaving soon and not wanting to have to do the whole Hello and Goodbye stuff back-to-back. But those plans went right out the window since Ten'e spotted us and called us over. In the few short minutes we had been standing there, more and more people began to arrive, some carrying signs and nearly all wearing masks, and I could see the police lining the front of the station, chatting with the gathering crowd. We met up with her and caught up, and honestly, I think it was at the point that I decided I was staying. The energy of the growing event was palpable and I was getting that familiar rush of do-gooding that I get at these things. Be they a fundraiser like the AIDS Walk or a charity event, I enjoy the camaradie and the brotherhood these things bring and I knew I'd be there for the duration. I purposely stayed on the fringes, I didn't know the organiser or anyone in charge so I just hung back and followed the crowd as events unfolded.
There didn't seem to be much pre-planned, I could tell that right away. There were no bullhorns, no amplifiers, no one guiding the crowd one way or another, we all just seemed to ebb and flow naturally. Not the way I normally run a function, but as I said, this wasn't my gig so I simply followed along. Once the leaders of this little gathering walked into the middle of Atlantic Avenue, and we all followed, the police pulled into the intersections on either side blocking traffic so we could hold the rally without any serious interruption. When I saw that, I was pretty impressed. Instead of letting things get out of hand unnecessarily and having the traffic disrupted by the protesters, the cops were handling the event professionally and set up instant detours around us. It was hard to hear a lot of what was being said, I assumed it was the usual rhetoric. I began a Facebook live feed so people could see how peaceful this protest was. The organiser called for us to lie down on our stomachs and chant 'I can't breathe' and we all did, it was a very powerful and moving statement. We did the usual 'No justice! No peace' call-backs and there was a lot more being said that no one could really hear. I took the time to survey the crowd and was impressed with the turnout, a very nice cross section of society, black, white, gay, straight, tattooed skateboarders, girls with pink hair, professionals, Muslims in thawbs, downbeach teens, Spanish girls, many of them with homemade signs hastily written in black Sharpie on cardboard. It was really cool to see the community coming together over an injustice, everyone moved to be seen and heard and to show solidarity. I did also note the cops on the roof of the station, keeping watch from above. But, as I said, with how these events always seem to end in other cities, I guess you can't be too careful. Evidently, there was a call to march onward down Atlantic Avenue and the crowd melted around the cop cars that had been blocking the traffic. Lance and I took this as an opportunity to melt away ourselves, we ducked back down Iowa Avenue to the Boardwalk and continued our constitutional. The Boardwalk was busy but no where near as busy as it should have been for the end of May and it being such a beautiful Sunday. We walked all the way to the Ocean Casino and decided to turn around and leisurely wandered back, laughing and talking all along the way. When we got closer to Boardwalk Hall, I noticed there were a lot of people in JFK Plaza. It didn't take long to figure out they were the protest group from earlier, evidently this was the destination after leaving the police station. Here the speakers were on stage and it seemed like the crowd was pretty much the same, although the makeup had changed a little. And the rhetoric was a bit darker, as we passed through I could hear the chant 'Fuck the police!' being said. But the cops interspersed through the area seemed to be taking it in stride and we continued on, finally splitting up at the city border and went to our respective homes.
I got in feeling a little rush of accomplishment, it was nice to be a part of such a peaceful event and I was damned proud that nothing had happened. I hopped on social media and saw praise coming in from all quarters about how nice it was, that Atlantic City showed them how protesting was done, the accolades felt good, even though I had played a very small part. But sometimes, just being there is what is needed. I have always said, it's not the level of participation, it's showing up that means the most. Crowds create awareness. And every cause needs people if they are going to get their message out there. I made myself a celebratory Bloody Mary and sat back watching the protests all across the country. 
Suddenly, everything changed.
I started hearing there was some trouble in Atlantic City, people started texting me and messaging me on social media. Reports of kids coming in from the mainland. Reports of some damage going on. Reports of the police trying to stop the vandalism. I saw that my friend Patrick was live streaming so I jumped on his feed and shared it to my Facebook. I was heartsick at what I was witnessing. Mostly young folk were all over the streets, I didn't recognize anyone in the feed from the protest events earlier. Patrick followed them as they marched through Atlantic City, the mischief escalating as they went along. (editor's note: Patrick was not a part of the destruction and mayhem and theft, he was only there recording what was happening). Once they got to Pennsylvania Avenue, someone from the crowd broke a plate glass window at the TD Bank (my bank!) and the crowd moved on as the glass shattered, covering the hedgerows underneath with glass. They rounded up to Arctic Avenue and made their way back into the center of Atlantic City and as they passed the Superior Courthouse someone threw rocks through the windows along the back side, shattering them and spraying glass all over the sidewalks below. Before long, they were at City Hall and there was an intense standoff with riot-gear clad police and the large group of protestors, each in a line facing each other, chants and arguments being made on one side, a wall of silence  and riot shields on the other. I sat at home in horror, screaming at them to stop this, as if they could hear me from my bedroom here in Ventnor. Thankfully, they moved on without any violence but only to venture over to the Walk, the shopping outlets in the middle of Atlantic City. Windows shattered here and there, some looting in the shops that had been closed for months because of the coronavirus, the police forming lines to try and herd the protesters and looters away from the area, you could see that control was lost and things were getting chaotic throughout the Walk (I was praying it wouldn't turn violent, I know way too many cops in the city and I was fearing for their safety). It wasn't before long that Patrick's mobile was losing power and he eventually stopped recording events, thrusting all of us in the dark as to what was happening in the city. I was able to find some more video feed from others on the scene, but it was generally more of the same and I was heartsick as I watched from the safety of my home, what was going on in the city I grew up in. 
I think the image that will remain indelibly on my mind will be the shot of Patrick in a car on Pacific Avenue with a line of Atlantic City police with riot shields in a line stretching from sidewalk to sidewalk herding people along. I grew up on those streets, the very streets they were on, and have never seen anything like that in all the years I have been here.
I eventually lost all the live feeds but it seemed to have calmed down a bit. Just watching things unfold throughout the city was exhausting, and by then I was drained from all the emotions of the day.
From what I learned after, it seems that the later agitators and looters came to take advantage of the rally from earlier that day. And I have heard rumors that some of the organizers of the original protest may have had that intention all along. I don't know, as I stated above, I was very much on the edges of the event. I showed my support and went about my day. But I will say that the tone in front of the police station was markedly different from the tone on the Boardwalk. It was palpable as Lance and I passed through.
I went to bed with a defeated sense of self. I participated in a peaceful event and it morphed into bedlam right here in my city, in my hometown. I felt like now I was part of something ugly and wrong and that wasn't my intention going in. 
I slept fitfully and got no rest until the next day. 
There is more than one way to protest, sometimes the simplest act can make the biggest difference. 
 

  

However, The Day After! Or Memorial Day II

It had been a fitful evening with the sunburn on my knees acting like mini-heat lamps during the night. I woke up several times, overheated under the covers and uncomfortable with the sting. Marmalade was happy, he thought it was playtime whenever he saw me awake and I had a very persistent cat to deal with on top of my discomfort. I had Alexa play some soothing classical music to lull myself back to sleep but I only managed to drift in and out for most of the night, the music making my dreams drift in Disney-accented colors. I gave up trying once I saw the light creeping in behind the window blinds, and decided to start my usual morning routine. 
Having this new laptop has been a blessing, even though it hasn't even been a full week, I feel reborn being able to utilise a proper keyboard once again. It's a welcome new morning companion, along with the morning news shows, and my usual oatmeal and coffee for breakfast. 
My top priority was to get my bicycle fixed, though, and I was waiting for a more amenable time to call my local bike shop to see if they were open for repairs. With the pandemic and all the executive orders from our governor, I wasn't sure how much of their business was available. I caught up online, did some light chores, blogged here, and started planning my day. Of course the shop was open and doing repairs, I was told when I called, so I got ready and walked my wounded bicycle the few blocks over. 
Every time I deal with the good people at AAAA Bike Shop, I'm always taken a little aback by their brusqueness, very no-nonsense and direct. Which is actually refreshing, I never feel like I'm getting pressured into more than I need or want (would you like a sparkle banana seat and handle streamers?). I told the repair guy in the back of the shop what I needed, the front tire, which was noticeably bald and flat, a bike rack to carry small items from the stores, and I wanted my kickstand moved. It's on the back tire and not in the middle, and the bike falls over constantly, it won't balance from the back end and drives me mad. 
Okay, he said to the first request. You gotta go up front and pick out a rack, he said to the second. A firm NO, to the third. Well, fuck me then, I thought, but he explained that I had an expensive bike, and it couldn't be moved with the design. 
Now here's where I paused in thought because, although I really like my bike and think I got a pretty good deal when I bought it, it's performs great, nice and solid, very little maintenance, quiet and fast, I knew for a fact that it was not expensive. I had gotten it at Wal*Mart a few years before and with the little damage that was on it from being in the store (people riding it through the aisles), I was able to talk the cashier into knocking the price down to a hundred and thirty bucks. So his declaration that I had an expensive bike made me laugh a little. I went to the front of the shop and the owner helped me right away, I told him I wanted a no-frills rack and the new tire, he said to come back in an hour, and off I went. 
I puttered around at home for a bit, Helene returned from her weekend job and I caught her up on the neighborhood gossip, and I made plans to walk later with my friend Lance. By now, my sunburn had reduced to a minor discomfort, looking far worse than it actually felt and I was up for another day of exercise. 
I returned to the shop to retrieve my bike, forgetting to bring  the claim check that was still on my kitchen table, but they knew which one was mine and I settled up, hopped on, and rode home. I gave it the once over when I got back, it was well worth the money for the new tire and the rack although they did tell me I had to lose the adjustable seat option, the clamp got in the way of the new rack supports. I never used it anyway so it was a small loss. 
But by now my curiosity was getting the better of me. What did he mean about having an 'expensive bike'? I decided to look up my model, gleaning the information from the decals that cover the frame, It was an older model but I found it with very little effort. Evidently it retailed brand new at five hundred dollars. Although it wasn't what I would classify as expensive, it was far more than I originally paid and far more than I would have paid for any bicycle, especially at the financially-strapped time I bought it. 
I'll say this, I'm glad I NEVER locked it up outside overnight from the moment I bought it! 
The rest of the day went smoothly, I hadn't seen Lance since before the weekend and I was eager to catch up, and we had a nice power walk up and down the boards. 
By nine o'clock at night, though, my exhaustion was getting the better of me. I was able to catch the first hour of the second episode of 'Grant', the new docudrama on the History Channel about the famous general and president before I passed out and slept straight through the night. 

The Memorial Day (More Holiday/Less Patriotism Version)

Because of the pandemic, I have been hibernating on the weekends to avoid the crowds of shoobies flooding down to the area like our own little Biblical plague. Especially this past weekend, since the Memorial Day holiday is usually the unofficial opening of the summer season. The weekend was a bit of a washout, weather-wise, and most people stayed away. The fact that there was parking in my neighborhood all through the weekend was a shocking sight to see! So when it came to Memorial Day Monday, I readily accepted the offer to go bike riding with my friend Charity. The skies were overcast, the winds were negligible, I thought it would be advantageous to get a quick eight miles in and then go home to do... well... nothing. I was supposed to meet her on the Boardwalk about halfway so I got ready and ventured out, quickly making my way to the Atlantic City border to hop on the Boardwalk there, since the Ventnor boardwalk is still prohibiting bicycles until next weekend (editor's note: The Boardwalk in Atlantic City is considered an official thoroughfare so it gets capitalized like a street name). To my surprise, it was far busier than I had anticipated. I had expected most of the tourists to go home by Monday and I was wrong. There were people everywhere, families, groups, bicycles, strollers, skateboarders (more on that later), and those just enjoying the benches watching everyone stroll or ride by. 

I wound my way through the crowds, slowing here and there to let people pass, and then picking up the pace whenever I found a break. I'm a bit of a speed demon on my bike, as I've discussed before in this blog, and being hampered by all the shoobies was annoying me. Especially since I wasn't expecting so many of them to hang on through the holiday. But once I hit Albany Avenue, where the AC Boardwalk doubles in width, I was able to weave through the throngs of people with relative ease. As I was going along, I kept a lookout for Charity's distinctive blue bike color but, as it always happens, you realize how popular her bike color actually is when you're looking for that particular hue and I was staring down everyone that came towards me thinking it might be her. Before I knew it, I was already at the other end of the Island of Love and I hopped off the boards at the Ocean Casino and down the two blocks to her complex, texting her the usual Where are you? messages. I rested outside waiting for her to get ready, doing the usual content uploads to my social media pages, the obligatory photos of me and my bike with hashtags and shares. She eventually arrived and off we went, without any coherent idea where the day would take us.
We decided to go straight up to the end of the island to the Boardwalk above New Hampshire Ave, and hop on from there. This end of the boards is usually less populated, the housing density in that area and the lack of boardwalk-centric businesses are the biggest reasons. It's a great place to fish from, though, with the jetties all along the Inlet and the fact that the water comes right under the Boardwalk in a lot of places along there. We made our way past the sparse crowds and took the bend around, where the Boardwalk meets the first set of casinos and that's where the crowds really picked up. For the most part, we were able to ride side-by-side and keep up conversation, it was really rather lovely out despite the overcast skies and the extra tourists.
Once we got to Stockton's campus, we turned around and started our way back, the narrower part of the boards beyond that point was a little too crowded. Now that did a circuit, I figured I'd go back for one more and the return trip was much like the first and we chatted and rode in leisure all the way back to the Showboat, turning around once again. Of course, we noticed that a few of the 'watering holes' had opened along the world famous boards and, since we are who we are, we decided to take a break at the Steel Pier bar and get an adult canned beverage, since that's all they were selling under the new pandemic guidelines. We found some empty benches along the ocean and sat there enjoying our surprisingly refreshing beverages, safely six feet away from anyone else. We people-watched, since that's what you do, and mulled over where our next stop would be. Hopping on our bikes, we moseyed along and before we knew it, we were all the way down by the Ocean Club condos (Hi, Roland and Cathy!). We saw that the Celebrity Bar was open and, since we are celebrities, we decided to get another libation, claiming one of the nearby benches again as our base of operations. I watched with great curiosity as to how they were preparing cocktails, with the new rules and the laws against open containers (I kept saying 'open carry' and Charity had to constantly remind me that was about guns), mixed drinks had to be served in sealed containers. It absolved the bar of serving an open container, and it solved the issue of making money by selling the very thing they make money from. Win/Win in my book. But I was also gathering intelligence, so to speak, since we're probably going to be opening my bar, the VÜE, sooner rather than later. This end of the boards seem to have an unlimited supply of people to watch and we set up camp and talked massive shit on everyone that came into view! After a few rounds, we decided we were hungry and ordered some overpriced boardwalk food and I noticed that the sun had come out and I knew in the back of my reasonable mind that I would be regretting my decision to stay outside instead of pedaling home to safety from the lethal rays of the sun.
The alcohol helped. We had a brilliant time there and the hours flew by but we were getting restless and decided to see what our friend Michelle Tomko was up to, since she's always out and about doing something in the city. We found out she was on Tennessee Ave. hosting an outdoor car-concert, yet another of the 'new normal' situations that have been invented during these pandemic times. Back on our bikes, we (more) carefully made our way back uptown. Of course, we quickly found that Rhythm & Spirits was open for business (serving sealed cocktails to go) so we ordered two and made our way back to chat with Michelle. Selfies, gossip, pandemic talk ensued and then Charity and I found yet our third spot on the boards to sit and enjoy the late afternoon. We commenced the people watching/judging immediately.
But by now, the full sunshine and the beverages had gotten the better of me and I was itching to go home. We bid our farewells and each pedaled off in opposite directions, although now I was regretting coming this far back uptown, it meant a much longer ride home, and not a full-capacity.
Although I had my misgivings, the ride home was really rather nice, the crowds had thinned out considerable, it was by now dinnertime after all, so I was able to pick up some good speed here and there, as my exercise app kept reminding me, 'Your current speed is 17.4 mph. Your average speed is 9.8 mph. You have reached 14 miles in distance. You have reached your original goal.' I remember this because this is where my excellent day took bit of a bad turn.
The app was telling me this as I was speeding down past the shuttered Atlantic Club building and quickly entering that area of the Boardwalk I previously alluded to above, where it goes down to two 'lanes' so to speak. Directly in front of me, on the wrong side, was a skateboarder who, for some unknown reason (stupidity? brain damage? shoobie?) wasn't veering out of my way and I was going way too fast to stop in enough time. He jumped off his skateboard which proceeded to slam into my front tire and I skidded to a stop. The young man (20's I guess) asked if I was okay, I said 'Yes' and added an 'Asshole' for good measure and then continued on my way home. I got two blocks before I realized he had popped my front tire with his skateboard and I now was forced to walk the remaining ten blocks home to Ventnor, all of my day-long good feelings quickly evaporated during my humble stroll with a wounded bicycle. 
Truth be told, I was planning to replace that tire anyway, constant use had worn away the tread. That's  why I knew I was in for an accident at that moment on the boards, there was no way I could have stopped in time. And that's why I didn't pound the crap out of that kid.
Once home, I cleaned up, got changed and assessed the damage, both to my bike and my skin. It didn't take long to determine I had gotten quite a bit of sunburn and was going to have to get my bike fixed in the morning. After a quick dinner of leftovers, I attended to my burns and turned in early.
Even though it wasn't how I preferred the day to end, was still an rather excellent holiday! 

Unexpected Windfall

There is one thing that has been blessedly saved and simultaneously damaged by this novel coronavirus, and that thing is my bank account. Which is one of the stranger 'symptoms' of this pandemic. I'm not making more than my former salary, it's roughly the same, and that twelve hundred dollar stimulus check helped but it's been long spent on rent and bills. The curious thing about this pandemic is that I am out of work and still making money and my roommate is working. Which is a great relief, since I've been singularly supporting our little household for quite a long time. I was happy to do so for the first few months but it started to get harder and harder to work sixty hours a week and not have a single thing to show for it aside from a roof over our heads and the usual amenities of heat and electric. But now I'm in the unusual paradox of having a regular income, discretionary spending money, and no where to go and spend it! Being the social creature that I am, along with the fact that as a bar/restaurant manager who enjoys supporting my fellow bars and restaurants, I liked going out several times a week to spread the love which is now impossible with the stay-at-home executive orders.
But it hasn't stopped me from shopping online like many, many other Americans, which is where the damage comes in. The laptop I'm writing this entry on is an example of that. I finally had enough to buy a new one, something I had only wished for ever since my old one started acting up a year ago (broken internal fan, longer and longer load times, mysterious crashing incidents). And then there's my Amazon wishlist, which is no longer there. I emptied that out in one fell swoop. I've been on a spending spree like no other, probably making up for the lost time but I will pat myself on the back for finding good deals and curbing my impulse buys as much as humanly possible. Although when you come over and hear the surround sound of my linked Bluetooth speakers, you might have a convincing counter argument to that last statement. I am glad that I'll be able to get some much needed upgrades done to my bicycle, that was a 'need' and not a 'want' that I've been avoiding for a while.
I'm lucky, I know. The system worked for me. I planned out my coronavirus post-work financials and it worked to my advantage. Here's hoping that those who haven't will get their stimulus checks and finally get their unemployment money soon.