I've been busy with everything and everyone but myself, lately.
It's OK, really... I have nothing wrong to help myself out with anyway -- except the trash and laundry beginning to build up around me again.
Joel Perlish, a customer, friend, photographer, runner, cyclist, and many other things has begun his latest biking trip. Hawaii is the only state he's never biked through in his 22 years as a touring cyclist. Now he can cross that one off his list as well as mark off his 500th touring day, and crosses his 22,500 touring mile. Join him on his journeys through a little thing I threw together for him. I didn't design this page, however I did set it up and I help out by storing the pictures on my server space.
joelperlish.blogspot.com

Natural Flavor is a local band (philly).
I've known the lead singer for a couple years now and really dig their music. I offered to set up a site for them and they're still in debate on whether they want this design or not. I don't mind either way but I personally thought this was pretty damn creative.
Natural Flavor

Again, I worked the Flower Show on Saturday... and this was my day:

Woke up at approximately 5am. Got dressed and ready to fly out the door to catch a bus to 69th street terminal where I would catch the subway, just as I did on Wednesday with Chris.
Got the bus.
Got to the terminal.
I was met with a sign telling me that the El ("elevated train", for all you non-subway'd cities) was down for a number of weekends while the do maintenance. However, a bus was set up to take the people into the city.
That's great... but where the hell is the bus?!
I found the bus. It took me down through Market Street.
Now... Market Street is, well... Hell's Ghetto. Imagine the scariest street in the scariest part of your local ghetto and multiply it. I don't know how many times you should multiply it but I'm pretty sure it was at least *a little* worse then what you know. It's the worst I've ever known, even more so than Brooklyn.
So at 6 in the morning I'm riding down Market as all the normal El people are packing this little bus. Finally, we reach 40th street where I recalled we got off at on Wednesday.
I look around. Walk a few blocks... I don't see the stupid Convention Center. What the hell?! By this time I'm in University City so it's kinda safe. I can at least ask where Arch Street is. I knew I wanted Arch.
I can't find it. I call one of my associates at the Show and ask where the hell I am.
I was then informed that the Convention Center is actually....

...on 12th street.

My face dropped. I would get a call back telling me who, what, and when someone could get me. In the meantime... "you'd better start walking, buddy."

So I walked. And walked.... and walked.
I was around 19th Street when I got a call telling me they approved a pay-out for me to take a cab. I would be reimbursed for it.
But I had no money.

I found an ATM. I had a cab.
I was 45 minutes late to my shift. All I had to look forward to was a 15 hour work day in the middle of the busiest place in Philadephia that day.
Constant... flow... of people. But I made "mad cash."

But, but, but wait it gets worse!

I begged for someone to bring me home. I was NOT about to do that again.
I was offered a ride from an associate who worked at another store. I didn't know him.
He was very strange. He made a few wrong turns trying to find his way out of the city in his big white van, he placed a phony phone call to his phony girlfriend (trust me... the guy pretended to call "his girl" -- I wouldn't make this up, folks)
Then, he decided it would be easiest to take Market Street home.
MARKET STREET! --- SATURDAY NIGHT! --- 10:30PM!!!!
YIPES!
I gripped onto my armrests as we came to a stop at nearly every red light down the 15 minute stretch. Never has there been 15 minutes that's felt longer than they did this evening.
Stopped at a light, my driver had some gangsta rap station on and joked about how we shoulda stopped to get some 40's and spark up on our way through.
I locked my door.
At one light, we sat there... silent... as a handsome, young, ghetto thug's face was TWO FEET FROM MINE -- STARING INTO THE VAN!
Looking at the brilliant, dark, rusted scenery under the El, I slyly pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary and my pants were still dry.

The scenery opened up and we were back at the terminal, as I started telling him directions of how to get to my house.
And I'm home.
Surprisingly.... still alive!

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And I just HAVE to post this because it's one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time.
Thanks to Dan for sending it along.



Have a good day, all.