A tri-borough kind of day

Sunday started with a ride over the Triborough Bridge, location of my last year’s fall. Details of this are on my other blog.

Riding through the Bronx on 138th St. I was cursing the Yankees and their no big bags and no plastic bottles rule. I was thirsty and wanted something to drink. I saw a man selling all the fruit of the Caribbean out of his van. I stopped and ordered a pineapple juice in Spanish. He took a container of cut pineapple and placed it in the blender. Then he added sweetened condensed milk (brilliant!). Then he added some ice. Now pay attention, because here’s where it gets good: he cranks up his generator and the blender whizzes to life. After about 15 seconds, he cut off the generator and my drink is done.


That’s a sugar-cane juicer on the left. I wish I liked sugar cane more.

Meanwhile, in Yankee stadium, here’s the view from the cheap seats. As cheap seats go, they were pretty good. I’ve always liked right behind home plate, no matter how high you go.


Yankee Stadium is no Wrigley Field (but then what is?). But I still see any ball field and think, “green… pretty.”

He’s not going to hit the ball.


The Cubs lost. The game was cheerless (for a Cubs’ fan). And there were four generally obnoxious guys setting next to us. But we were still happy. That’s (from right to left) Alan, Aaron, and Karine. Aaron and Karine were rooting for the Yankees.



Meanwhile, back in Astoria (I went via Manhattan, thus completing my tri-borough day), there was a little dinner at Tamara’s. Karl bought me a Greasy Pete's t-shirt.


We cooked:
sausage


venison


garlic shoots

The fire looks better without the flash, but the greens are blurry.



and shrimps


Tamara made a peach pie!



And my friends John and Rain were in from Boston.


John is doing much better with his handlebar moustache than I ever did with my failed attempt about a year-and-a-half ago.

I just took this picture to get a good shot of Tamara’s neighbor. He’s a very sweet Greek man. Landed on the beach on D-day, among other things.



The night ended at home with some of the absinthe I bought for John in Amsterdam. Needless to say, things get a little hazy around then. I remember blue-flamed sugar and visions of green ferries.

It was strange to wake up this morning and find money in my pocket. Now that’s a change from the usual empty wallet after a night of heavy drinking. There was $80 in my pocket! I couldn’t account for it at first, but it was payment for the absinthe.