Sometimes, it’s just odd out there
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On a recent afternoon, your humble narrator just threw his hands up in frustration and announced to Our Lady of the Pentacle that he was going out for a walk. She recognized the look in my eyes, that of a wild beast yearning for freedom, and said ‘have a good time.’
One soon found himself at ‘The T’ light rail’s First Avenue Station, where the Panhandle Bridge spans the Monongahela River.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This wasn’t going to be a long walk, at all. It was hot as heck, and I had a lot on my mind. Go to the bar and suck down a few beers sort of thoughts.
I’ve had to pick and choose my battles since returning from NYC, as the weather has been absolutely horrific all month. High heat and humidity, lots and lots of rain, and a set of competing priorities. As described yesterday, I’m currently enjoying a spate of medical tests designed to gauge and document my overall robustness and spot trends.
I don’t like being touched by strangers, let alone stripping down to my skivvies in their presence and letting them irradiate me.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As I’ve mentioned in the past, one of my superpowers is the ability to containerize negative emotions while situational stressors are at work, and then allow the stored up psychic pressure to bleed off at a more opportune time. Essentially, I have a ‘rage bladder,’ and every now and then one needs to let off some steam and bleed it out.
I was by myself, of course. God’s lonely man.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My pathway to the beer taps involved a short walk of less than two miles. This wasn’t an exercise day, and I convinced myself that the effort would be worth it if a few train shots were captured. I know that I mention drinking a lot, but I don’t actually drink all that much. A few beers, maybe once every couple of weeks, these days.
Back in Astoria, my crew of knuckleheads and I had a standing Friday night ‘after work’ meetup at ‘the local,’ but again – a couple/three pints of beer consumed over multiple hours is my deal. I sip, rather than chug.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Monongahela River and the Smithfield Street Bridge came into view, and one pointed his toes in the required direction. This is part of the same trail pictured above, incidentally.
That’s when I saw it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A single, abandoned, shoe. Can it be?
Has the Queens Cobbler followed me to the Paris of Appalachia?
Back next week with maximum Choo-Choo.
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