Port Authority has a pretty sweet system to get you to the Meadowlands. You go to the NJ Transit ticket windows, tell them you want a round-trip ticket to the Meadowlands (only $10!), walk across the hall and outside, and a bus is literally sitting there waiting for you. Buses start taking people over about 2-3 hours before an event. I got on the bus at 6 pm to head to the Genesis concert and stepped off at the Meadowlands at 6:20 pm. Not such a bad deal.

The bus ride there is definitely more pleasant than the one back, mostly because everyone is still sober. There were some pretty obnoxious/scary/thought-they-might-start-a-riot types on the way back to the city.

I  don’t necessarily have beef with Jersey (I’ve spent most of my life at the beach in South Jersey), but for some reason North Jersey has always bothered me. I don’t know if it’s because of the characters I knew in college who were from N. NJ (Guido types with way too much “Jersey pride”) but whatever the reason, seeing this as the bus entered North Jersey just reinforced my distaste for it:

WTF? That’s the best you got North Jersey? I wish I’d known this in college when all the lame asses were whooping it up about having “Jerzeyyyy in the houseeee.”

This is why I love New York. We wouldn’t be caught dead bragging about being an embroidery capital. If anything, we’d lie and blame it on Jersey.

*Stay tuned for pics and a review of the Genesis concert.

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Walking down Broome Street today, I spotted this:

 After I crossed the street, he said, “Did you get the picture?” I was somewhat embarrassed that he caught me taking a picture of him, but then I thought: If you’re walking down the street with a cat on your head, you’re asking for attention. I told him I was actually too far away and the shot was blurry. He obligingly posed for me and then hit me up for money. I gave him a dollar and told him to get kitty some treats. She deserved it.

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Today I rode with a mass of Mets fans on the 7 train to Shea Stadium during rush hour. It was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life. As I texted my friend from the train, “this is like a fucking game of twister right now.” Legs, arms, smelly body parts…everywhere. Fortunately, as I waited for my friend outside Gate B of the stadium, I saw someone (something?) that definitely lifted my spirits:

In case you can’t tell, that is a man wearing a very lovely white prom dress, complete with a yellow beard, red stockings, a multi-colored dyed poodle in his arms, and a parrot adorning the top of his head. And he’s parking his bike.

People didn’t attempt to hide their stares as he tooted his horn (literally) and strutted through the crowd. I didn’t attempt to hide my blackberry as I zoomed in and took a picture. I figured, hey, if you’re going to dress up as a crazy, drag form of Madonna, you’ve got to expect some attention. 

This is why I love New York. You never know what you’re going to see next.

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