I must be on some kind of hit list with Public Safety here. My first hint was when I sometimes parked somewhere deep in the back when nothing else was available on the side streets, thinking everything was gravy. What I didn’t know was that the spots there were reserved, but the numbers had since been eroded with time. Didn’t matter. Public Safety right then and there decided I was their number #1 enemy and had to die.

So what do they do? They actually run my plate and called my workplace. Next thing you know I’m taking a call from some obnoxious Public Safety drone who proceeds to lecture me about parking etiquette and why don’t I just grow up already?

So I stopped parking in the back since then and found other alternatives that some might find… unorthodox, but which suits me just fine. Like say, parking on the curb, parking on the grass, parking on what technically should be considered a sidewalk, or when I’m desperate, parking next to a fire hydrant.

Now before you start berating me for being a knob here, consider that I’m one of the last people to show up at my job… no… scratch that, I AM the last person to show up due to my crazy hours, and as such, everyone’s already got their space spoken for except me. There is NO parking here. NONE. Dramatic measures are needed if I want to avoid walking 10 blocks just to get to the door. You understand.

I’ve parked by the fire hydrant a few times before without any trouble, always close enough that if I happen to see a building burning nearby when I’m looking out the window it’s only 30 seconds from here to there to run out and move the car, even if I did get some evil stares from the firemen along the way.

But then once again, Public Safety had to ruin everything. Whoever this Nazi spankypants is, he stops by my car, but haha, he can’t write any tickets on account of him being a virginal numbnut with no vested authority in ticketing people. So what does he do?

HE CALLS THE FIRE MARSHAL, WHO COMES ON DOWN SO HE COULD WRITE THE TICKET FOR HIM.

Who goes through that much trouble to get a ticket written over a fire hydrant when it’s @#$%^ POURING rain out? And on top of that Mr. Smokey the Bear checks off the maximum fine too, when I could have just as easily been slapped with the usual $30 fine instead. Public Safety Nazi Virgin Boy wanted to send me a message, I’m sure.

And what happens the next day? There’s another car parked by the fire hydrant.

And you know bloody well I watched that car ALL day to see if they would ticket it too, watched the virginal Nazi spankypants drive past it several times, and still the dweeb didn’t get ticketed. Why, cuz he drives a Prius? @#$% racists.

I know where this guy keeps his Public Safety vehicle too, and I am THISCLOSE to finding it under the cover of night so I can let the air out of the tires. Let’s see how big and mighty you can be without a set of wheels, punk.

Sigh, I need a new job.

Tags: automobile, car, fire hydrant, fire marshal, park, parked, parking, public safety, street, ticket, workplace
Categories: In The Coal Mine
 
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So what started out as a $20 oil change eventually turned into a $1500 job to fix my car.

I stumbled out of the dealership, pale white and in a daze, wondering if this is what it must have felt like to have the life force vacu-sucked out of you by The Mummy, right before he tosses you aside like so much smelly garbage.

There was no avoiding it though. My brakes needed replacement or they wouldn’t pass inspection, and I had to deal with a power steering leakage that cost over $500 to fix. The rest were jobs I had been planning to get done anyway (like a battery replacement), and since my wallet was pretty much getting molested enough as it is, I figured I might as well get it over with now.

But gees.

Well on the upside, I totally have a legitimate excuse now not to get anyone Christmas presents this year.

After I spent the morning AND afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese (don’t judge me), my car was finally ready to go, and I made out of there like a bat out of hell. I seriously did not want to be out and about on Halloween, because people have been acting bonkos crazy nuts lately, especially out on the roads. Who’s cutting me off, who’s blocking my exit, and one guy in front of me who STEPS on the fricking brakes in the MIDDLE of the interstate where everyone is going 70 at least, and then just continues on la lee da?? You know, I bet that’s why I needed new brakes too. Mother pus bucket…

Yep, I think I am just about ready to leave New York for a few days. I’d make it forever, of course, but the umbilical cord that is my job would eventually reel me in sooner or later. Sigh.

Ah well, hanging out with the Amish might be just what the doctor ordered. It should be a therapeutic experience, especially now that I”l have a chance to go and laugh at them for riding horse carriages and not owning iPods. Who knows, maybe I’ll even pick up a hot Amish babe currently going through Rumspringa along the way.

Tags: Amish, car, chuck e cheese, crazy, dealership, halloween, job, new york, Pennsylvania
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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I spent the night at Ticonderoga (home of Fort Ticonderoga) before deciding to head out to Lake Placid the next day. Vermont was gorgeous, but I couldn’t decide on any place to stay, so I went for the familiar and hopped back over to NY for the remainder of my trip. I got up, feeling refreshed and charged after staying a night at an awesome Best Western here, then decided to make a quick stop at Walmart (yes I’m ashamed of myself, but there was no Target nearby, so nyah.)

I walked in and checked the men’s section, deciding to check out the jeans and see if there might be one or two worth getting. I bent over to check the tags when

*RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP*

Did I say I might get jeans? Because I’m pretty sure I was gonna need a pair like, right now.

All I could do now was hold the shattered parts of my old jeans together with one hand and a new pair with the other as I waggled my way to the checkout lines as fast as I could. And of course, this would be one of those Walmarts that didn’t have self-checkouts either. FAIL. And, the express line was closed too. FAIL.

And now I’m stuck behind this woman who had literally, two carts, TWO carts worth of junk. Who does that? Still, I try to look as natural as possible even while I can feel the breeze go right through my undies, waiting for this land whale to finally check out her ten boxes of Ramen noodles and other assorted goods. Finally it was my turn. I quickly I paid up, then waggled as fast as I could to the car.

In hindsight, I probably should have just gone back into the store and changed in the fitting rooms, but this was not a day where logic prevailed.

I got in my car and drove around the back, figuring I could change in the backseat without anyone getting a peep show from me. So of course, as soon as I find a spot and park, a door to the building opens and out comes this woman who was probably on a cigarette break. She’s talking to someone behind her but she is looking right at my car and STARING. I figure I’d wait a minute or two to see if she’d go back in, but she didn’t and she never stopped staring either. I hadn’t even done anything yet, I was just parked. What is this lady’s problem??

I gave up and drove to the side of the building instead, and while I’m driving the woman actually walked out the door so she could continue staring as I drove away. Good grief. I parked next to a truck that was unoccupied, got into the backseat as fast as I could, then started changing. While I’m changing, all of a sudden the back of the truck opens all the way up and out comes this trucker, looking curiously at my car, and I’m wondering if he could see me (I had tinted windows, thank God.) Still, I finished changing, and opened the door to get out. Except… I couldn’t, because the child locks were engaged.

Why would I keep the child locks on? Why, WHY would I do that?? I sat there for a few minutes, wondering which way I should opt to crawl over so I could get out of the ride that had suddenly become my prison. I finally opted for the passenger seat, then grunted, jerked, banged my head on the rearview mirror, and wiggled my way over, before finally landing flat on my hiney as I opened the passenger door and free fell to the ground. Owie.

Mercifully, that was the end of it. I was now wearing my new pair of jeans and a new jacket (which I also bought) and feeling much better about things. I drove out and headed to a nearby ATM machine to get some cash (which charged me $2.75 for the convenience, what the flip!?!)

I then headed north, trying to put the unpleasantness of the morning behind me as I started taking in the views of Lake Champlain.

Then I passed by a state trooper. And sure enough I could see him in the rearview mirror as he screeched to a halt and made a quick u-turn. Oh no. No, no, no…

Well maybe he was going after someone else. Nope. I could see the lights go on and I sighed heavily as I pulled over. This was going to be one of those days.

“Can I see your license and registration please?” All business.

“Sure, here’s my registration, hold on I’ll get my license.” I pulled it out of my wallet.

“Do you know why I stopped you, sir?”

“Because I’m awesome?”

“No sir, you were speeding. The speed limit here is 45 and you were driving 15 miles above the limit.”

“Really? I was going that slow?”

“I noticed you had another ID card in your wallet. Can you show it to me?”

“Sure.” He had seen my work ID so I pulled it out and gave it to him.

“How long have you been working for this agency, sir?”

“About ten years.”

“Have you ever been pulled over or received a speeding ticket?”

“Been a while since I was pulled over, never received a speeding ticket. I never speed though, I just go faster sometimes.”

“I would like to verify this ID as well. Please wait in your car, sir, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

My humor was completely lost on him. He took my ID, probably to see if I did in fact work for THE MAN, and after a few lengthy minutes he got back out again. I could see he was holding a ticket.

You son of of a___

“Sir, instead of citing you for speeding, I will issue a parking citation. You will not have to worry about receiving any points on your license or having your license suspended as long as you pay the fine in time. Please fill out the form here and here, and mail it in, or you can stop in person if you so desire. Do you understand everything I’ve just explained to you?”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

“Have a nice day, and please drive safely.”

“Thank you, you’re not going to follow me now right?”

“…Do I have reason to?”

“Oh no no, in fact I’m right by Stewart’s here, I think I’ll go in for some coffee.”

“Have a nice day, sir.”

He finally drove off.

I looked the ticket over, and one thing bugged me: it had no fine amount listed, which made no sense to me. I was in town though, so I figured I could stop by and pay the fine in person, just to get it over with.

Despite having Google Maps on my iPod, (which was going on and off because the signal was weak here,) it took me 30 minutes of wrong turns and head banging to find this fricking building. I had this preconceived notion of what a court building should look like, so I certainly didn’t expect THIS:

Seriously?

I walked up to the door, which had a sign that said:

“Court temporarily moved to Town Supervisor and Clerk’s Office.”

Sigh.

I should have mailed it in, but I’m just not wired that way. I like to get things over with NOW instead of having something like this hanging over my head and ruining my vacation mood. So I pressed onward, and spent another 20 minutes looking for the Town Supervisor and Clerk’s office before finally locating it inside an RV park. Yes, seriously.

I walked up to the door and read another sign:

“Closed for lunch.”

You get it? The entire town government was closed for lunch. Really? Gads.

Lunch was close to over, so I decided to wait another few minutes, pondering over why this blasted ticket did not have a fine amount on it, and absolutely convinced that if I mailed it in they’d somehow lose it for sure. I was putting myself through this grief primarily because I didn’t know before then that the fine amount would be determined by the judge himself.

That’s not how we do things downtown though. Our traffic violations have fines that are predetermined by statute. When you get cited, the fine amount is clearly listed on the ticket itself, and you can just stop by in person or mail in the guilty verdict along with a check. Here I could mail a guilty plea, but there was no indication as to how much I needed to pay, which completely threw me.

It was after lunch now, so I went back and entered the “building,” which to me really looked more like an oversized trailer home.

I walked in and saw a pair of clerks chatting it up.

“Hey there, I just wanted to see where I could find out about paying a ticket?”

“Oh, you’re here for the court?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I’m sorry, court doesn’t start until 4PM. If you want you could come back then.”

I just looked at her.

“Um, what? What kind of town court STARTS at 4 o’ clock in the afternoon??”

“That’s usually when session begins. Sorry.”

Sigh.

I got back to my car and thought about what I could do. I COULD let it go, but I’m too OCD for that, so I decided what I could do is drive to Lake Placid, check into my hotel, then drive back to the court, a round trip of 120 something miles. Yes, I’m an idiot.

So that’s what I did. I finally drove to Lake Placid and made it here at long last around 4PM, checked in, then cleaned my car out to get things ready for my quick trip back, this time using the interstate so I could make better time.

I tossed some of the trash in my car into the garbage can and walked out again, only to realize too late that I had just thrown my key card into the trash as well. I was now locked out of my hotel room, AND the building itself, because each door needed a key card to gain entrance. And I had to go to the bathroom too. Like, really badly.

Funny thing, this would be one of those buildings that didn’t have a lobby either, since it was a sister hotel that was now part of a bigger resort complex. So I’m frantically going around the building looking for an unlocked opening while doing the bathroom dance, trying to figure out what to do. Thankfully, somebody else had also checked in and were about to walk in, so I tried to be as nonchalant as I could as they opened up the door with their keycard and I walked up behind them. They held the door open for me, and I RACED back to my room like a bat out of hell itself.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………..

Finally, I went back to the trash can and started diving around for my key card, getting my arm soaked in day old coffee before finally locating the card. I went back to my room to clean myself up a little, then went off to start the drive back to the town that I was now swearing I would never drive through ever again, never ever, amen and amen.

After an hour and a half of intense driving, half terrified that I was going to get pulled over again, I finally made it into town, got out and quickly jogged into the building again. I noticed by now the RV park was hopping. There were trailers and RVs everywhere.

There was also now a line of people at the door, all waiting for their day in court I suppose, yet I couldn’t see anything that remotely passed for a court room. I did see the judge though, who looked like he had just gotten back from a day of working at the steel mills. The court clerk asked if she could help me.

“Yeah I’d like to see about paying this ticket.”

“Oh, well you’ll have to wait until the judge is ready to see you, though I don’t know how long that will be.”

“I can’t just pay the ticket now?”

“No, he has to see the case first, then he decides what the fine amount will be.”

“Seriously? Because where I live, the fines are predetermined. I’ve never heard of a judge determining traffic fines like this before.”

“Wow, that would make things a lot easier here.” She said this as if it were the most brilliant thing she had ever heard.

“So… what do I do then?”

“Well let me get your casefile. When did you get the ticket?”

“Today.”

“Oh… we’re not going to have the casefile then. It takes a few days before we get the next batch of caseloads from state police. I won’t be able to do anything for you until then.”

Sigh. “So, what do I do?”

“Well, you can sign a guilty plea now, and then when we get the casefile, the judge will set a fine and send you the bill by mail. Since you handed this in person, you just have to mail the payment.”

“Ok…” I signed the forms. “Thanks for your time.”

“Oh by the way,” she called out. “No personal checks! Has to be cashier checks or money orders!”

Good Lord. “Yes, ma’am.”

There was nothing left to do now but start the long drive back to Lake Placid. I drove in pitch blackness, half wondering if this day would end with me barreling into a stray moose or driving off a ledge somewhere, but fortunately, it seemed the worst was over. I got back to the hotel around 8PM completely exhausted, and thinking up creative, violent things I’d like to do to state troopers (even though the dweeb had done me a favor by only citing me for a non-moving violation.)

Yep, I think I’d just as soon pretend this day never happened.

Tags: car, clerk, driving, funny, government, lake placid, locked out, new york, pants, police, state police, ticket, ticonderoga, town, upstate, vacation, walmart
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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With all the news about the economy being in the toilet and people left and right losing their jobs (and unable to find new ones), I’m reminded of the personal recession I once experienced shortly after I graduated college, waaaaaay back in ‘98.

I had just wrapped up my undergraduate “career” and finished with a degree in computer science, all during a time when the IT industry was BOOM-ING, BABY, OW! You couldn’t so much as turn without smacking right into an IT/computer related job. I had made the right choice for a degree, patted my back for a job well done, and at 21 years of age I was ready to take on the world and start on my way to becoming a buff, studly FBI hacker who would single-handedly capture Russian bad dudes with nary a few taps on the keyboard. The world was my oyster, baby!

Well…

One job interview went by. Then another. Then another, and yet no one got back to me. Soon I started getting rejection letters, and it wasn’t long before my post-college bravado gave way to concern, and then outright fear. I was going to job fairs, handing out resumes like candy, responding to newspaper ads, emailing companies, literally knocking door to door, and all I was beginning to show for it was a growing stack of rejection letters (which I still have by the way.)

What was I doing wrong? The industry was booming, I had picked the right field, the demand was high, and yet no one wanted to hire me?

One month became two, then six, then before I knew it a whole year had gone by and I was still gainfully unemployed. My relationship with my parents was really taking a turn for the worse too. At some point things got so bad between us that they eventually became convinced that I wasn’t serious about finding work, that the only thing I was really doing all day was playing games on the internet. So as punishment they took my speedy 28.8 dialup modem away.

There’s probably nothing more demoralizing to a 22 year old college graduate than to have not only his modem taken away, but access to a car as well (since my parents both worked during the day.) So there I was, with no access to the internet and no access to a car, and yet I was still expected to somehow find a job.

Their suspicion that I would only spend the day playing Battlezone 2 or surfing Usenet groups to argue with stupid Christians was totally unfounded too. Ok… MOSTLY unfounded. It said nothing of the fact that I was desperate, DESPERATE to get the holy FRICK away from my parents and get my own place so I could live my own life. You think they’d understand that ALONE was more than enough incentive for me. I wasn’t gaming all day long on the internet. I was trying to network, research and brainstorm ways I could find a job. Then when I needed a break, I’d play a round or two of Wolfenstein. What else could I do, really?

But still they locked up my 28.8 dialup modem in their bedroom before leaving for work every day, and my only means of transportation then was a 20 year old woman’s bicycle (with a flowery basket in front) that we kept on the porch. Thank God YouTubers weren’t around then to capture the comical display of me riding around in a suit on a girlie bike with a stack of resumes crammed in my basket. I never would have lived it down.

Most of the time when I wasn’t out riding into town and feeling really stupid about myself, I was left to twiddle my thumbs while I stared blankly at the wall, wondering why God hated me so much.

I think the first low point then was when I managed to get a part time job delivering flowers, only to get fired a week later when I asked to come in later than usual so I could go to a job interview. When they realized I had graduated college and was spending time going to interviews they figured I wouldn’t be around long term and fired me. My parents blamed me for it because I shouldn’t have said anything about a job interview, but I wasn’t street smart enough to know about these things. Their harsh criticism and the embarrassment of being fired from a florist delivery job made me hate myself more than anything. I thought I was the most worthless idiot on the planet. Everyone else was landing jobs left and right and here I couldn’t even hold on to flowers.

Eventually after some more time passed, I had an idea. My modem was still being locked away safe and sound in their bedroom, but one evening I had to go to the supermarket to get some groceries for my parents and borrowed the car. When I went to get the keys, I realized one of them was the key to the bedroom.

Hmmmmm….

I had a bunch of extra quarters saved up in a can somewhere, so I grabbed those up, got in the car and stopped by the hardware store.

“Yeah I’d like to get an extra copy of this key?”

“Sure, be a few minutes.”

I watched him as he forged a magical key that would unlock the mysteries of the kingdom. I dropped a bunch of quarters on the counter while he threw a quizzical look at me, as if to say “Are you so cheap you can’t even pay in bills?” but thankfully took them anyway and gave me change.

YES!

The next morning I cheerfully waved my parents off as they went to work, then waited a few minutes to make sure neither of them came back in case they had forgotten something, and raced to their bedroom door.

*click*

You could hear the angels singing as I unlocked the door and the light from outside shone into the room. I started looking around and quickly found my beloved dialup modem. I was in the game again!

The thrill of sneaking around like that breathed some new life into me, and I would spend the next few weeks making the rounds of unlocking the bedroom door, grabbing my modem and then going through my daily routine of job hunting, networking and whatnot before I ended with a fast game of Battlezone, then quickly returning the modem back into the bedroom and locking the door again when the timer I set for myself buzzed, signaling the time I needed to get off so I wouldn’t get caught redhanded.

Once my internet time was up, I would break out the Ragu pizza sauce I kept hidden in my room and use the bread machine we had to make pizza. We had the same equipment restaurants used to make brick oven pizza, and with it all I was turning pizza-making into an art form, even learning how to toss it up to spread the dough. It was truly my source of comfort and joy. I would take a few hot slices, head over into the living room and watch General Hospital so I could catch a glimpse of my dream girl at the time, Rebecca Herbst. The fantasies of getting snuggly wubsy woos from her and the exquisite tastes of my homemade pizza helped get me through some very dark times then.

You could have had my pizza anytime, baby....

I’m not sure if my parents ever figured out I had been able to get into their bedroom, but they must have been suspicious. One day when I was going through the usual morning routine of unlocking their bedroom, I stepped in and suddenly saw an empty seltzer bottle rolling around on the floor.

Hmmmmmmm… where did that come from?

When I picked it up and tried to get a read on where it had been before, I realized it must have been right behind the door. There was no way to avoid knocking it down when you opened the door either, and that’s when it occurred to me that it was placed that way on purpose. My parents had set up a primitive boobytrap to see if I was indeed invading their bedroom while they were away at work. If it hadn’t rolled around in my view the way it did, I might have never noticed it, and it would have made for a very awkward conversation that day.

Ah well.

I took the bottle and placed it upright again behind the door before leaving and locking the room.

And so it went, week after week, unlocking their bedroom, knocking the bottle down, and then putting the modem back and setting the bottle upright just before I locked the room up again. I felt like James Bond. Fitting that they would use an empty bottle for this too. They always did see the glass half empty. *sound of corny 007 music playing*

I think after a while my parents finally started to mellow out and realize I was indeed going through a hard time here. After about 18 months of job searching, I hit my lowest point when I was even turned down for a job as a cashier, but not before enduring three humiliating interviews where they put me through a psych test, a counting test, and a few other tests to determine my knowledge of all things cashier related. I got the rejection letter 2 weeks later.

That last rejection had me throwing up my hands in defeat and ready to jump off a bridge somewhere, but shortly afterwards a recruiter found one of my resumes in a databank, at long last leading me to my first full time job, 19 months after I graduated college. Finally, my recession had come to an end.

Of course I would soon be laid off 5 months later, but that’s another story.

Tags: car, career, college, computer, economy, graduate, internet, job, jobs, life, networking, parents, part time, pizza, recession, rejection, work
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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We had been hit with a snow storm this morning and I was already 30 minutes late for work, but I wasn’t worried.  After all my SUV has traction control and all wheel drive.  My black stallion ride was absolutely made for days like this. 

I pulled out of the parking lot, hit the gas and… well… let’s just say traction control can sometimes be an overrated feature.  My car spun into a semicircle before it finally stopped, and I ended up facing east when I was supposed to be going west.  Oopsie.

I decided even though it mean being an hour late of work now, it was probably best that I get there alive, so I drove a tad more carefully.

It all worked out though, since no one was around to notice when I came in, I signed in on time as usual. 

Shortly afterward I got a call from Mom.

“Did you make it to work ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Thank goodness!  Those people on the roads are crazy!  They pull out of the parking lots at 100 miles an hour and think just because they drive a SUV they won’t lose control.   What a bunch of idiots!”

“Yeah… what a bunch of dillweeds…”

Tags: black stallion, car, drive, driving, snow storm, storm, traction control, work
Categories: In The Coal Mine
 
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Well actually, it was last night.  Well the night before, whatever.  Anyways, true to my promise, I took a trek out into the great unknown, and right away I knew the night was going to be trouble.  I first made a stop at a gas mart that had a Dunkin’ Donuts, where two Hispanic guys cut in front of me in line, chirping in rapid fire Spanish that quickly reminded me of how much I hated that disgusting language.  I mean really, it’s worse than listening to German.

“Yo, dude-os.  Get-o the #$%^-o out of my way-o.  Comprendo?”

After that unpleasant experience, I made my way onto the highway, right into the billowing smoke of what had to have been a chemical fire that was taking place nearby, because my eyes were watering and my nostrils stunk of burning plastic.  I stopped by a 7-11 (because I never got a chance to get my coffee at Dunkins’, for reasons I best not get into here,) bought some crappy tasting coffee, then got into my car and noticed my engine light was on.

Yep, it was gonna be that kind of night.

So I finally get on the interstate, and I’m trying to understand why the people behind me were driving too fast, while the people in front of me were driving too slow, and this little game of chicken goes on for about 30 minutes or so, until the traffic finally started to break and I could activate my cruise control.  After about a couple of hours driving, I pulled into a shopping center that had a Starbucks so I could get a Gingerbread Latte, only it had closed just a few minutes before.

Yep, it was gonna be that kind of night.

The stores did have lovely Christmas displays though, so I managed to get this nice shot while I brooded in misery:

I pulled into another 7-11 after another 20 minutes of driving, because I wanted, yay, NEEDED, hot chocolate, and of course the machine was broken.

Yep, it was most definitely gonna be that kind of night. 

Things finally started to break my way a little when I came across another 7-11 only 5 minutes after stopping by the first one, and this time they had all the hot chocolate I needed.  I kept on driving past vineyards and whatnot, and started noticing roads with cute names like this one:

Could my dream girl be living here?

My plan was to find a park void of any lights so I could break out my camera and tripod and shoot pictures of the moon and the stars in all their glory.  Of course the one park I could find was closed and locked up.  Sigh.  So here I am, pretty much surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean, and not knowing where the flip to go where I wouldn’t be bothered by the park police or neighborhood patrol or whoever.  I wound up driving into a dead end in a private neighborhood somewhere that took me right up to the beach.  There were no street lights so I figured this was as good a place as any, and I just had to hope the houses nearby didn’t see me and call the cops on me for daring to pollute their existence with my non-luxury vehicle in such close proximity.  I got out and the wind sliced through me like an angry cold mother…

But I was determined, so I broke out my tripod, turned on my car stereo to “Bad Moon Rising,” and managed to take the crappiest night shots of the sky that even a 5 year old could have outdone.  Here’s one of the moon:

I also managed a nightshot of 3 stars that I’m always seeing every time I look at the sky.  I wonder what formation this bright group of three stars belongs to, since they seemed to follow me everywhere:

Here’s a closer view of the three stars I’m referring to:

Anyone know what group this 3 star formation is a part of?

After a while, I finally gave up taking pictures of the night sky and trying to capture any meteor showers that were supposed to be happening that night.  They always seemed to occur right out of the corner of my eye too.  I would notice a streak but by the time I turned my head it was gone.  This shower was more like a drizzle to me, so I tried my hand at taking snapshots of the beach instead.  The lights in the background is that of the Connecticut shoreline:

Here’s another one of a nice big rock that accentuated the view:

Once I started losing feeling in my hands I knew it was about time to go, especially since a light in one of the houses nearby turned on and a dark figure appeared in a window.  With visions of Psycho dancing around in my head, I decided to make a quick exit and hauled my heinie out of there.

The drive back didn’t turn out to be so bad.  There was no traffic and when I filled up for gas on the way back, the engine light went out, so I was finally able to mellow out a bit and enjoy some of the small town scenery I drove through, with their Christmas lights and all.

All in all, it wasn’t the kind of night I wished it could have been, but I’m glad I did it anyway.  It got me out of my apartment, and in a way it served as a trial run for future trips.  If I hadn’t done it, then I would have been left to wonder what kind of celestial show I would have missed because I was too lazy to get myself out there and see for myself.

Hopefully though, the next time there’s a moon out like that there’ll be a glow in my heart, if ya know what I mean.  

There’s a glow in my heart!
Whoa, oh, oh, ooooooh,
I never felt before!

There’s a girl at my side!
Whoa, oh, oh, ooooooh,
That I adore!

There’s a glow in my heart!
I guess it’s because…

There’s a…. moon toiiiiiiiiiiinnnnniiiiiiiiight!

Tags: camera, car, christmas displays, coffee, drive, driving, dunkin donuts, fire, highway, hot chocolate, meteor, meteor shower, moon, night, nightshots, Photos, rock, sky, smoke, star, starbucks, street, traffic, trek
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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