My Cousin Vinny Link
Well it is another Friday here in the Big Apple and lots has gone on this week. Did you know that in order to get a New York State drivers license that one must possess a social security card? Yep that white business card looking thing that was washed 3 wallets ago is needed, not a valid passport, copies of tax returns but a friggin Social Security card! So a trip to the Social Security office was needed and surprisingly it wasn’t all that bad. We made it down there on the subway, breezed through the line and in 2 weeks should have our cards in the mail. As we took the 6 train, transfer to the 4 we arrived at the office and realized that we weren’t in Kansas anymore as it was a mini UN meeting up on the 3rd floor. Anyway we got that done and made it home with some nick-necks from Century 21.
Later in the week we went to visit a old friend in Scarsdale, NY (we got to take the Metro North) and hung with him at the pool. ML introduced us to some friends of his who naturally who inquired about our love of country music. “Darling, you have me mistaken for someone from Nashville, I am from Memphis, home of the Blues, Elvis Presley and corrupt politicians.” She was really grilling me about things and after a while I could tell that something was up. Finally she admitted to me that my accent was so refreshing to hear, would I please keep talking. Talk about making someone self conscious, but it was harmless so I read her “War and Peace” that afternoon.
Yesterday after momma and I made a trek down to 35th street and back, I rewarded myself with a cigar as she took a nap with the dog. I found a cigar joint on 73rd that is a couple blocks from the home and tried it out. I picked up an old favorite of mine and was invited to sit with the older gentlemen at the table in the back. After brief introductions one of the men, looking sharp in his linen jacket, asked me “So kid, what part of the South you from?” Again, I was kind of embarrassed as I reluctantly said that I was from Memphis. They informed me that to sit at the table one is required to wear trousers (I was in shorts and a polo) but that my “Yes Sir” gave me away and that Northerners don’t end interjections with a “Sir” or “Mam”. My defense was that being raised in a catholic grade school and having Irish/Italian parents that you got Smacked if you didn’t do that. They appreciated my upbringing and went on talking about how they hate Hillary and Trump.
We did happen to find 2 local establishments walking or staggering distance from the homestead. Albeit I am not really a fan of Karaoke but play along to harass former downtowner Paul Ryburn but we did find a bar that has Karaoke but with a 5 piece Band backing you up. Feel free to read that again – A FIVE FECKING PIECE BAND!!!! So I am sure a field trip and better planning will be in order. Well that’s it for me, heading back to Graceland to get a more recent copy of “How to speak NortherneN” and to bring back red dog who has been playing with her sister.