NYC. Bouncing through The Bronx on what they try to pass of as an Interstate. I’m more than a little annoyed that I just spent over an hour trying to get across the George Washington bridge. Never again. It’s tradition for me to avoid this area like the plague. It’s a tradition that has served me well for some time.
I usually go to Connecticut and Massachusetts by way of Pennsylvania. I usually don’t care that it’s about 75-90 miles longer. Tonight I thought I could save some time. Am I a fucking idiot or what?
I thought I might wax poetic while crossing the bridge, looking out over Gotham and wondering where in that great mass of humanity my brother, Justin, was. But by the time I fought through the traffic jam (a combination of the lower level being closed and the toll booths) and paid my $30 toll, I wasn’t in a poetic mood. Besides, my brother doesn’t write anyway.
Funny, huh, how this part of New York always puts me in a bad mood?

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