What people do.
Sitting on my list of things to blog about and not budging is the trip Adam and I made to see the Deadwood shuttle at Grand Central station last month (or maybe two months ago now; I'm a miserable blogger). It was another jumpin' Saturday night, and Adam had his mom's Cadillac, so we figured we'd drive in to the city, park by Grand Central, and pay our $2 admission to ride in a subway oddity. It's cheaper than the Cyclone, and despite the recent spate of subway breakdowns, probably safer.
It was approximately 10:34pm when we got down to the shuttle platform though, and the Deadwood car was long out of commission, sitting dark and idle on one of the side tracks. We did get a good look inside, and it was much as we expected, to our enormous satisfaction.
As we were leaving the station I received a call on the nerd-phone from Sarahs (which was odd because I was still underground, but there you go), who was quite upset because Ryan had gone missing. Always up for adventure, Adam and I agreed to drive up to their apartment on the Upper East Side to see if Ryan had somehow gone their instead of Sarahs's parents' place on the Upper West Side, where he was meant to have gone, and like, passed out or something. Which is what actually happened–though "passed out", in this context, meant asleep on their daybed with episodes of the Simpsons playing on their iMac, a dead cellphone, and a good deal of surprise that he was the subject of a full-blown manhunt.
Despite the fact that we didn't get to ride in a faux-historical, faux-televisional subway car, or get donuts at 86th & Lexington (another of the night's goals), and that there was general hysteria on certain fronts for a while when Ryan was considered M.I.A., the night ended in success. We all retired to Sarahs's parents' place on the Upper West Side, ate brie on rice crackers and drank wine, and in general enjoyed being in a known location.
It was approximately 10:34pm when we got down to the shuttle platform though, and the Deadwood car was long out of commission, sitting dark and idle on one of the side tracks. We did get a good look inside, and it was much as we expected, to our enormous satisfaction.
As we were leaving the station I received a call on the nerd-phone from Sarahs (which was odd because I was still underground, but there you go), who was quite upset because Ryan had gone missing. Always up for adventure, Adam and I agreed to drive up to their apartment on the Upper East Side to see if Ryan had somehow gone their instead of Sarahs's parents' place on the Upper West Side, where he was meant to have gone, and like, passed out or something. Which is what actually happened–though "passed out", in this context, meant asleep on their daybed with episodes of the Simpsons playing on their iMac, a dead cellphone, and a good deal of surprise that he was the subject of a full-blown manhunt.
Despite the fact that we didn't get to ride in a faux-historical, faux-televisional subway car, or get donuts at 86th & Lexington (another of the night's goals), and that there was general hysteria on certain fronts for a while when Ryan was considered M.I.A., the night ended in success. We all retired to Sarahs's parents' place on the Upper West Side, ate brie on rice crackers and drank wine, and in general enjoyed being in a known location.
I found Deadwood Village in World of Warcraft yesterday. There are a lot of furbogs there. Any relation?
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