Alligators on a Party Barge

The Connecticut (Ave.) Trail

Adventures in the city

Day 1, hour 1

Set out on a cloudy spring day, heading southwest toward Cleveland (Park). Our (Veronica, yo, and Tina, yo) goal was simple enough: find a residence to reside in, followed by perusing works of a famous artist. The travels took us through several dwellings, but the true tale begin anon. (hee, anon.)

Upon disembarking the front stoop, our path was blocked by a bunch of teeming masses, some of which were unwashed. We wondered about them, as they streamed out of the tunnel, dazed, but we pressed on, for we had a destination. Curiosity eventually won out, and we returned to the gaggle of humantity. One of our party (M.T. Moore, yo) stopped and questioned a more washed individual who said that a medical emergency had plagued the rail lines. She immediately assured us that she was from afar as though to disavow any fault at what had occured on Metro. Good thing she told us, because we were about to blame her.

M.T. Moore, yo, soon had to leave, but we first visited her new chandelier, which had more personality than any of us put together, plus some. It was offputting to be upstaged by a chandelier, so we pressed on.

Not soon later, the skies aopened, and a hideous deluge was upon us. We raced after an L2 bus, who took one look at us and denied our entry. It was the public transportation's equivalent to saying "We weren't on the list."

Seeking refuge under an overhang, we awaited another transport. Several no passengers shuttles passed, but still we remained stranded. It was clear we were going to have to make the trek. The rain kept falling.

Since the beginning of time, man has relied on ponchos, and as we knew where we could find available ponchos, we decided to invest. Superbly attired in sheer, yellow, plastic ponchos emblazoned with CVS pharmacy (is abreast funnier? Vote now in comments), we headed out, but first were accosted by an older gentleman (or was he? Vote now). He was a close talker, and unnerving, so we fled the scene, our ponchos aflap in the breeze.

One more stop, before heading back. The building was guarded with an bitter old lunch lady type, or maybe like the evil mama in The Goonies. If she had been adored with a hairnet, it would have been appropriate. We stopped into an open house, but it was not so much open, nor a house. The place was guarded by a real estate agent/cryptkeeper--we are pretty sure he had died 50 years ago, but his spirit remained to show apartments to unsuspecting buyers. We proceeded to tell the tale of how the building had housed nurses during wartime, perhaps he died in one of their arms. Greatest Generation he was not. It was time to go, but the rain continued. Perhaps Creepy McCreeperton would offer us a ride on his Ghost Ship? (Suddently he would become a skeletal pirate, and we become damsels in corsets with ringlets.) We decided it would be better to set out on foot, and leave the Ghost Ship to head off to the horizon or disappear in the mist.

They say you don't know a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes, but now Tina, yo, and Veronica, yo, can say that they know one another. A different foot perspective indeed. While awalking, the burden of one's flip flops and one's sandals were too much, so we switched foot apparel. Alighting, it was time to stop at the store for some sustinence, but the wittles we desired were not to be found.

To be continued....

posted by Veronica @ Sunday, May 14, 2006