The holidays are upon us, and I’ve been thinking for my next trip I’d like to go someplace that really pours on the Christmas spirit, Norman Rockwell style. I’m limiting myself to a 300 to 500 mile radius from New York, so it would likely have to be in the Northeast. Anyone have suggestions? There has to be a small town somewhere renowned for its Christmas celebrations, and I’d like to experience that if I could. I’m talking horse sleighs, Christmas carols, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, silver bells, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Mistletoes would be a bonus too.

It’s been a long, long time since Christmas felt like Christmas to me, and I’d like to recapture the joy and happiness I once felt for this time of year again.

Hopefully it won’t turn out like a Clark Griswold kind of Christmas vacation either.

Tags: Christmas, holidays, norman rockwell, Northeast, town, vacation
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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So Sunday I crossed the entire breadth of Long Island under the reasonable assumption that if I just drove out east far enough, I would find a completely unobstructed view of the horizon for the harvest moon, as well as get some nice snapshots of the scenery. Under that logic I decided to drive, and drive, and drive, and drive, until I ended up at a place called Montauk, which is about as far east as you can possibly go in the entire state of New York before driving into the Atlantic Ocean.

The trip was nice, until it turned into one lane and I had drivers up my ying yang while the guy in front me of course has to drive 20 miles an hour, because what’s the hurry, really? So I’m feeling myself getting squeezed by tailgaters and slow pokes the whole last hour of driving before I finally and mercifully pulled into the town/village/hamlet(??) of Montauk.

Since I had a couple of hours to kill I decided to explore the area, beginning of course with:

Nothing says small town like a good old fashioned burger.

I walked in and the place looked like it was 100 years old. I placed an order for their specialty burger and watched as a few more people came in, still dressed in summer clothes, all of them barefoot.

Clearly there were hicks in New York too. I waited like 10 minutes for my burger, and when I finally got around to eating it, it tasted a bit… fishy to me. No, I mean it really had a fishy taste to it. Bleh. And I HATE seafood too.

Ah well, I made up for that by having pizza instead.

Californian pizza in New York? FAIL

I took a walk through town, not much to it really, just a few stores sprinkled here and there, though I did find an amusing junk store with these signs on the door:

Heh.

I could live in this store forever.

Also passed by a florist too:

Preeeeetty....

So prettttttyyy...

After walking around town a bit, I decided to chance a quick trip down to the harbor before going out to Montauk Point to set up my camera for the moonshot. As I pulled out, I saw this in my sideview mirror:

Thank you world for all these constant reminders that I'm single. Douche balls.

I found a beach that offered a vantage view of the channel boats navigate through in order to enter Lake Montauk, but the beach was infested with flies. I only managed to get two or three shots off before I decided to flee and get back onto the parking lot.

Why yes, the branch DID have carvings of stupid skanky teen couples professing their love for each other. OMG, can I fricking DIE now??

I didn’t take two steps onto the parking lot before I sprained my ankle and spiraled almost face first into the cement before finally catching myself. Oh my goodness. PAIN. I limped the rest of the way to my car and I just knew this day was going to get worse before it got better.

I could still walk though, albeit a bit tenderly, so I started to drive my way back to the state park about an hour before sunset. The water was really amazing. Everywhere you went you were surrounded by water:

Man, don't make any wrong turns here.

The park included the famous Montauk lighthouse, and after paying $6 for parking(??!?), I was finally able to take a photo of it for the first time:

Gee, it looked a lot bigger to me in the postcards...

That’s when I realized I had a problem. The lighthouse was closed at sunset, and the rest of the area was covered in shrubs and trees. It was almost worse than being in the city. I simply had no idea where to find an ideal spot so I could watch the moon rise. So I went up to the beach and started walking around the lighthouse, carrying my camera with the tripod attached. This is what constitutes a beach in this area by the way:

I'm supposed to walk on THIS?

And yep, while I was walking across, I sprained my ankle again. Not as bad as the first time, but just enough to aggravate me and remind me once again that I suck.

The fishermen apparently LOVE to fish in these areas though:

You'll never catch anything! NEVAH!! Ahhhhhahahahahah!

What the flips is this thing??

For some reason I actually thought there would be a manmade sidewalk because I could see a fence in the distance, so I continued trucking along, gingerly walking/limping over rocks until I finally found myself on a rocky ledge behind the lighthouse. Did I say sidewalk before? Well not quite:

You have GOT to be kidding me.

I was already halfway on this ledge before I realized there would in fact be no smooth-as-silk sidewalk waiting for me, and it actually would have been more dangerous for me to turn back since there was a bunch of snot nosed little turdlings that were hopping the rocks around me and blocking the way. I couldn’t believe how unsafe it was. One slip and your boom booms go bye bye as you plunge 30 odd feet to your certain death. On top of this there were fishermen all over these ledges, tossing back their fishing poles at random moments so that God forbid you had the misfortune of being behind them as the bait and line flew over you. Can you say fish food? Oy.

The sun was already beginning to set now, so I made my way through as fast as I could on this crazy obstacle course, with a twice sprained ankle and a camera + tripod leaning on my shoulder. Hop, hop, hop, hop, OW! *&^%, hop, hop, hop…

I finally made it off the ledge, which of course led to an area where I was now sandwiched between two small cliffs, obstructing my view even more. Sigh. There was an unpaved road that led upwards, so I rested a minute or two to catch my breath, than made my way up the road. I still could not see any moon, just shrubs and trees and cable wires and whatnot. I might as well have been in an Amazonian jungle. I walked and walked, the light of the sun slowly fading away, until I came across a gigantic pool of MUD that covered the entire road. There was absolutely no way around it.

Why, God, WHY?

I just stood for a few minutes and looked at it, before finally letting out my breath and deciding that it didn’t look too deep, so maybe if I just hugged the side enough my shoes wouldn’t go that deep into the mud.

So I got as close to the side as possible, then took my first step.

*SPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH*

Oh Mommy. The pool of mud was like a foot deep. I was completely submerged up to my ankles. I groaned as I plopped through, one SPLOOOOSH at a time until I finally made my way past the pool.

Squish, squish, squish, squish. And then of course I sprained my ankle AGAIN, almost dropping my camera as I stumbled a few feet before catching myself. Man.

By this time, dusk had finally descended, and yes, of course, I still could not see the moon.

I finally gave up and squished back to my car. Before leaving I decided to see if I could get a glimpse of the moon and finally at long last I saw it, even though it was now past its harvest peak. Since I didn’t want to leave empty handed, I swung around and drove back into the park. I must have done several circles trying to find an ideal spot but I just could not find any, except for one spot that was already taken up by some dweebie photographer, and of course he has a girl with him sitting adoringly at his feet while the man gets himself the perfect moon shot. God in heaven, should have driven off the road so I could nail his bony little …

But anyhow, I decided to just go back into the parking lot and get whatever shots I could from there. This was one of the only moon shots I could manage:

Yes it's fuzzy. Yes it looks like the sun. But it's the moon, I assure you.

As for the rest of the photos, I used a bracketing technique on my camera to get shots with different exposures, then used a software program to merge them all together to create what’s called an HDR image. It’s not perfect, but overall, I guess I could have done far worse considering the day I was having.

Probably the best photo I took then.

The final result. Yes that's the moon, not the sun. Shut up already.

With night fully upon me now, it was time to take the long trip back home. I stopped by a Carvel since a day of having pizza and burgers simply cannot be complete unless it’s topped off with ice cream.

The Carvel was empty, so I walked inside an ordered a chocolate cone. Suddenly it was instantly filled up by 30 people. I’m not kidding, in the space of a minute, it was PACKED, including some weird looking elephant-man type dude who felt it necessary to stand two inches behind me while I was waiting for my order. Finally I looked back at him:

“Dude, seriously, a little space?”

He stepped back once, about 4 less steps than I would have liked. The crap was taking my ice cream so long?

Ah, here we go, sheesh. I grabbed my cone, licked and limped back to my car again, and steeled myself for the long, lonely drive back.

Maybe next year will be better.

Tags: beach, burgers, camera, clouds, couple, day trip, driving, flowers, harvest moon, ice cream, ledge, lighthouse, montauk, new york, ocean, photo, Photos, pizza, rocky, town, water
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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So now that we’ve elected a mini-me version of the Antichrist, I think it’s high time I finally start working to move to a town that’s right for me.  A town that’ll keep me movin’ and keep me groovin’ with some energy. 

Even though I talk about it, talk about it, talk about it, talk about it…  I gotta move on. 

Seriously, I gotta move on.

Right now I’m going over which states might offer the best prospects, and I’m starting off with three basic requirements: the state should have no income tax, the gun laws should be flexible, and it should have lopsidedly voted against the communist demon of the underworld in the last election.

So far I have 5 options:

• Wyoming
• Alaska
• Tennessee
• Texas
• South Dakota

Climate and terrain wise I would prefer to live where there’s mountains and temperate seasons (the most important being autumn) AND little humidity.  VERY little humidity.  Seriously, there’s a reason why I refer to humidity as “Satan’s Breath.”  Just… no.

That puts Tennessee at the top for now, especially the eastern part where the Appalachian/Smokey Mountain range begins.  And since it’s the closest I’d be able to put together a road trip to visit the area and check it out.  The only remaining question is being able to find a job.  I have a background in computers and government and finished my undergraduate education a ways back, so I should be good for something besides shoveling horse manure, right?  What do you think?  Or should I try for another state?

As for the others, I like Wyoming because it has the Rockies, but again the problem is jobs, and it’s also out of driving reach.  I’d have to either fly or do a cross country trip just to scout the state.  Same deal with Alaska (as much as the thought of being near Sarah Palin thrills me), and the other 2 states, Texas and South Dakota.

If I remove the “no state income tax” requirement however, I have a few more options:

• Idaho
• Utah
• Oklahoma
• Nebraska
• Kansas
• Arkansas
• Louisiana
• Mississippi
• Alabama
• Kentucky
• West Virginia

I would drop all of the southern states because of the humidity and lack of mountains, but I hear the girls are so smokin’ hot in places like Alabama and Mississippi that I just have to keep these states on the list for now. 

Idaho and Utah might be good options, but I don’t particularly care for the high Mormon demographic.  It’s not that I hate Mormons or anything, I just can’t stand them.  Kansas and Nebraska have no mountains and seem boring overall, while Oklahoma might be too humid.  West Virginia is on the list, but I drove through the entire state once and the scenery was just awful.  Kentucky might be the best choice so far all things considered, but still, I have very little intel about any of these states frankly, which is why I’d like to visit them and see for myself.

In the meantime, what do you think is my best bet?  Let me know in the comments.  I’ll also include a poll too, because I’m awesome like that. 

Help me find my Funkytown!

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Tags: Alabama, Alaska, Appalachian, autumn, climate, cross country, election, funkytown, girls, humidity, Idaho, job, Kansas, Kentucky, live, Louisiana, Mississippi, Nebraska, Oklahoma, poll, road trip, sarah palin, smokey mountain, song, South Dakota, tennessee, terrain, Texas, town, Utah, West Virginia, Wyoming
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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My town was throwing a Columbus Day festival this weekend, which included a fireworks show for tonight.  Since I either hated everybody in town or they hated me, I avoided it like the plague.  I still got a chance to see the fireworks though since I was on the second floor and I was able to get a good view of it from my window.

It also gave me a good view of the drug dealers on the street too.

So here I am, just trying to mind my own business and enjoy the fireworks in peace, and there’s a crime in progress happening right underneath me.  God in heaven do I hate this town.

I watched the two scumbag dealers as they got into their black ride and tossed a few bags of “white powder” around, the door and headlights on in the dark of night so all the world could see what a bunch of schmucks they were.  They were getting ready to stoke a few up after what I guess must have been a good night for them, festival and all.

Hmmmmmmmmmm… 

I dialed 911.

“Yeah there’s a couple of guys hashing it up on the apartment grounds here, and I was wondering if you could send somebody over to go ruin their night?”  I gave the operator the location.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Oh my name?  Sure my name is-”  I hung up.

I waited a few minutes, and eventually decided the cops weren’t going to do anything when a patrol car suddenly pulled up next to the dealers’ car.

What ensued afterwards turned out to be 10 times more fun to watch than the fireworks. 

Tags: apartment, Columbus Day, cop, cops, crime, drug dealer, festival, fireworks, God, patrol car, street, town
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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I decided to shed some of the books I own as I prepare myself for a life on the run on the road, so I stopped by my local library to donate them.

I walked in and approached one of the clerks at the reception desk.

“I would like to donate these books please,”  I said with my broad, winning smile.

The haggish looking clerk took one look at them and said, “Sorry, we’re only accepting certain books, and we won’t need any of these here.”

“But… I have books on Abraham Lincoln!  And some really great books on the law too.  Don’t you want the patrons here to learn more about the law??  And lookie here, a beautiful vintage 1828 Webster’s Dictionary!  Wouldn’t that be awesome for your collection??”

She glanced at it.  “That’s a big dictionary, but we have enough dictionaries here.  Sorry!”

I grumbled as I picked up my stack of books.  Oh well, not a big deal, I’ll just drive to another library in a nearby town and donate it there.

20 minutes later…

I walked in with my stack of books to the reception desk.  “I would like to donate these books, please.”  Another winning smile. 

“Sorry, we’re not accepting donations right now.”

Again another song and dance about how valuable my books were and how important it is that people learn about the life of Abraham Lincoln and frick it man can’t you just take my #%^$ books anyway?? But still no dice.  Oh well, on to the next library.

20 miles later…

I walked into a quaint, little library happily whistling the tune to the Andrew Griffith Show, only this time I walked right past the reception area and sat down at a table near the reference section.  I had my books in my bag, so I took them out and placed them neatly on the desk.  I then got up, smiled my ever winning smile one more time… and left.

Mission accomplished.    Now with that out of the way, I can focus on winnowing down my stuffed animals collection.  Anybody here want one of my teddy bears?

Tags: abraham lincoln, books, clerk, dictionary, donate, donations, library, town
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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