30 Hours of Awesomeness

Foreward

This ones long. I'm sorry! Quite litterally from the start of Saturday, to the end, to Sunday morning, so much epicness took place that the quantity of writing in this post has greatly exceeded that of any previously written. You can stop and come back later. I wont mind.

Enjoy

Getting Up

A small puddle of drool had developed under my chin by the time the morning chill woke me up. I was fully clothed, on my stomach, and sprawled over the downstairs couch. My body was sore and I was tired, and desperately wanted to go back to sleep. I could hear my mom walking around in the kitchen, and Jibbles was busy parading back and forth on my back, nudging the back of my head to get me up. After a great deal of hesitation I slowly brought my watch to my face, and jumped up in terror when I saw the time. I had fallen asleep around 3AM staring at my computer screen, and now it was 7:40AM. I was supposed to call Dan 40 minutes ago. I hit the ground hard when I rolled over onto the floor, stumbled to my feet, and ran upstairs to get my phone and call Dan. Thankfully he was already awake, and since his parents were still sleeping, he'd be picking me up half an hour later. 

A bit more relaxed now, I threw some gear in my bag, and began rigging up my fishing rod. The sky was mostly grey, and when I opened the door to the porch, the air snapped back with a chilly breeze. I got a hoodie and my jacket, and put some ramen on the stove. Just as I slurped up the last strand of noodles, my phone rang. Dan was outside.

I grabbed a few more last minute things, and Dan and I put the gear in the car. It was good to see Dan for a fishing trip again. We hadn't been fishing in the longest time, and our last memories on the water were beginning to feel distant. I secretly wished the car would go faster.

The Jetty

After a quick stop at the Belmar Marina bait shop, Danny and I hopped out the benz (lolz), and started towards the inlet jetty. The picture you see here was taken aboard the Miss Belmar, as we were coming in from an off shore bluefish trip. Me and Danny set ourselves up a little bit to the right of the weather station tower. The picture here is a little inaccurate, however. It was taken in June, when the ocean was calm, and mostly flat. On September 18th, as me and Danny set up the chairs and baited the rods, 10 foot swells battered the jetty every few minutes. The especially large ones left us damp and unhappy. The lumbering walls of water lurched forward, crashing onto the rocks and sending spray up into the air. It was an impressive sight. Gulls flew by over head, and a steady East wind kept things far from calm. 

I missed being around the Ocean. I felt kind of sad looking across the deserted beaches. Th summer crowd had been replaced by a few joggers, and fishermen every so often. The Pavillion was boarded up on the Avon side, and the lifeguards had long since been off duty. The grey sky mirrored the vacant solemness of the waterfront below. I casted out the rods, and Dan and I sat back and talked. Thats one thing I like about fishing bait. You can just sit back, relax, have a hot drink and good conversation. That was another thing I missed. Talking with Dan and waiting for a bite. The conversation is always interesting. We went from girls, to herbs, to Russians, to school, and to plenty of subjects I cant remember. Then back to girls. Fishing conversation is perhaps one of the best things about the sport. Whether sitting out on The Jetty, on the bank of the golf course ponds, or in the boat, its always good, and I cherish every second of it.

The fish decided to cooperate that day, and pretty soon Dan had a little Sea Robin on the Jetty. Everyone and their sister has labeled the robin as a trash fish, and few people keep ugly bottom fish. We decided to anyway, and stuck it in this sort of natural livewell that had formed when the ocean spray filled up a big hole in the jetty. Sea Robin or not, it was better than some of the other days we've spent on the Jetty. We always read about fast paced, fish after fish action, with giant stripers, ravenous bluefish, and big albacore running up and down the beaches. I don't doubt it happens, but I've yet to see it.

We put the lines out again, and went back to conversation. Danny got another hit, and reeled back a keeper sized fluke! We were so happy to see a fluke, I started dancing around. This was a terrible decision on my part. As I pranced around Danny and his catch, brimming with the glee and excitement of a young school girl, my precious zippo lighter, one of my most prized posessions, flew from my pocket, and tumbled down the rocks toward the surging Atlantic. I let out a piercing shriek as I sprang forward to save my poor little lighter from the swirling deep. It tumbled into a crack, and I was standing over the opening before it had a chance to hit the bottom. 

I could barely see the lighter, which was about 1 3/4 feet down this tiny hole. I knelt down and squeezed my hand as far down the crack as it would go. I was still about 6 inches short. I didn't give up. I forced my arm another 5 inches. It was a painful ordeal, and in the process I cut/bruised up my arm pretty badly. The pain that shot through my arm was horrible. The worst part was that I could actually touch my lighter, and I accidently touched it further down the hole. I gathered my strength and forced my arm down even further. After 5 or 6 tries I was finally able to get my ring and middle finger aroun the lighter. And with my face against the rocks, and my arm completely engulfed by the rock, I pulled out my lighter, and held it up in triumph. It was a lot cooler than I made it sound. Trust me.

The Rouge Wave

Much time had past since the excitement of the previous paragraphs, and by now the action had settled down to a slow pace. I caught a throwback fluke, and besides a seagull stealing the neighboring fishermens bait, and us trying to scare it off with my sandal, all was quiet on the south jetty. All except for the pounding surf. Now, if you ask Danny, what was about to happen, it was completely my fault. I disagree. As he retrieved his bait, his sinker got stuck in the rocks at the base of the jetty, where the jagged rocks met the violent ocean. This was a problem. We were out of sinkers at the time, and the loss of another would mean he would have to put his rod down, or worse yet, beg the other fishermen for spares. 

Danny indicated that he was going to go down to the waters edge and try to get it. I wouldn't allow it. I had gone down the to the edge a few times before, and even on a calm day, the potential for danger is exceedingly high. Algae makes the rocks as slick as butter on hardwood flooring, and the steep angles of the big rocks make slipping and bashing youre skull open all too easy. 

Earlier in the car I had promised Mrs. K to keep Danny safe, and in keeping with that promise, I held him back, and started down the rocks myself instead. The first few rocks ae always easy, wet but not slimy. About 4 feet out, things started to get hairy. Every so often a bigger swell would come in, and send me scurrying back up the jetty. If one of these waves hit when I was down there, I could be swept out to sea, or get crushed against the rocks. I yelled to Danny over the sound of the surf, "IF YOU SEE A BIG ONE COMING, WARN ME AS SOON AS YOU CAN!!" Needless to say, he didn't. Maybe he did, thats what he claims anyway, but it certainly wasnt loud enough because when I reached the waters edge, I looked to my left, and watched in awe as a wall of water came up, and smothered me beneath it. I clung to the rock with all my strength. The receeding water ripped one of my sandals off, and as the wave swept back into the ocean, I was left cursing and spitting on the rocks. 

Thoroughly soaked, and cold, I scampered up and scolded Danny for not warning me. I ripped off my shirt and walked about a mile to the boutique by the Pavillion in Avon, and tried to get some dry clothes. They were boarded up. On the way back to the jetty, I decided to just take off my soaked jeans, and go around in my boxers. As I jogged back to the inlet, people stared. I don't blame them. I must have been a pretty bizzare sight. I hung my clothes up to dry on the weather station, and continued fishing as normal. Just without pants (and dignity) of course. In another hour or so our bait, as well as our morale, was dwindling, and we decided to pack the gear and head for Belmar on foot. Yes, I actually walked around like that. No pants, one sandal. Thashowido

Belmar 

We left the Shark River inlet, and went south on Ocean avenue. By now the sun had come out, and Danny wanted 16th avenue, so we had quite a far walk ahead of us. Back on the jetty we decided to throw the sea robin back into the drink, but we did keep the fluke. Which was now leaking out of my bag. I must have looked like a pack mule. My backpack was bulging with my wet clothes, a plethora of fishing gear, the net, and my jacket was hanging off it. The most awkward part however was buying shorts from this little beach store. I walked in, and bought an 8 dollar pair of shorts. So. Awkward.

When we reached 16th, I saw crowds of people and the beach was filled! The air had warmed up and there was a surfing competition going on. We crossed Ocean Ave and peeled the gear - and our shirts - off and got something to eat. Guys were walking around shirtless, and girls had bikinis on. It was a familiar sight. The bleak emptiness of the morning at Avon had been replaced by 80 degree weather, and the town had come back to life like it was summer again. The live reggae music was really good, and I found myself zoned out to the steady beat, watching the half dressed beachgoers cross back and forth Ocean Avenue. I was smiling.

One kind of obscure thing I really like about the beach is the little signs on Ocean Avenue that say pedestrians have the right of way, and cars (by law) have to yield to those on foot. I feel like a boss when traffic stops for me, what can I say?

I bought a shirt from Eastern Lines, and we packed up the gear and walked over to the beach. As we were walking infront of the crowd watching the competition, the MC in the announcer box, who was dishing out hilarious comments, and even more hilarious family guy herbert the pervert (complete with whistle voice) impressions, said in a dead serious voice. "Is that a trout net?" At me. I smiled and pumped my rod in the air, before feeling like a tool and finding a spot to sit down. It was one of the many highlights of the day. Dan had many laughs then, as well as later on. We settled down in the sand and watched the surfers tear up the waves. It was awe inspiring. Stuff I had only seen on youtube, they made look sooooo easy. The music had changed to a faster paced ska, and another familiar sight greeted me as I looked across the sand. with the exception of a few more shirts than usual, 16th Avenue looked just like it did in the summer. There wasn't a moment I didnt enjoy.

Spring Lake

The brief part of our first time in Spring Lake presents an instresting story of chance and indecision. As we anticipated what we thought would be the end to an already grand day, Danny wanted to walk further South, towards Spring Lake, where his friend Alex lived, and where I would be dropping him off when my mom picked us up. I didn't want to leave Belmar, the music, the people, or the surfing competition. My mom was [supposedly] on her way to 16th to pick us up, but because Danny suddenly developed an uncanny desire to travel by foot, he somehow convinced me to leave the bustling haven of Belmar, and trek with him to Spring Lake.

We brushed off the sand, and headed South once again on the board walk. I would totally have regretted doing this if not for what happened a little while later. A few minutes into our journey, as we entered Spring Lake, something awesome happened. I was half listening to Danny talk, and sub consciously analysing the joggers, people walking, and bikers, that passed us in the opposite direction, when all of a sudden a red flag when off in my head, and I realized I had just seen something important. I reviewed everything I had taken in the moment before, turned around and shouted "MR. PEREZ?" And to our surprise, the powerwalker turned around and sure enough it was none other than Juan Perez! Our retired Gum teacher. He remembered who we were, and we talked for a little while. He had lived in Belmar all his life, and now that he was retired, he walked almost everyday, and enjoyed an awesome life of leisure. Just as we were talking, behind us a lady tripped over a parking lot barrier and hit her face on the ground. It was a good thing we kept Mr. Perez there. He helped her up and made sure she was okay. We talked a little while more, and he asked us to tell his former co-workers he said hi, and after a handshake to each of us, he was on his way, and Dan and I were going crazy about how awesome it was to see Juan again.

The further South we went, the more I realized how stupid this was. I had left behind a metropolis in Belmar, and traded it for more deserted beaches, and a less exciting residential area. I cursed Dan for convincing me to undertake such a meaningless journey, and after much stubborness and hard convincing, I turned us around and we headed back for Belmar. I plopped down in the sand again and basked in the sun's glorious rays. The surfers were still going at it, and the MC was still cracking jokes. I wanted as much summer as I could cram in between then and the time my mom picked us up. 15 minutes later she pulled up and parked on the corner of 17th. We climbed in to the car and again headed South, this time to drop Danny off at spring lake.

I rolled down the windows, and turned up the volume. Some cl0uds had moved back in, and the sunshine and warmth was starting to dissipate. Even my mom, who I expected to complain a whole lot that we were detouring to Spring Lake, was calm for the most part. Though that didn't last. I relished it. I knew this would be, for better or worse, the real last taste of summer I'd get till June, and I tried my hardest to absorb every second as best I could. On the way back through Belmar my mom had to use the bathroom, and since the traffic was pretty much bumper to bumper, she hopped out and started walking to the Dunkin Donuts on 16th. I found a nearby parking spot, and as I waited for her in the car, a man passing out pink hats came by. I got one for myself and another for my mom. I can't describe how insanely hilarious she looked in it. Much less how we both probably looked with the matching hats. It was good Mom-Chris bonding time.

Home

I got home and started breaking down the gear. I put my ocean soaked clothes to wash and filleted the fluke. I made an amazing pan fry dish. It was delicious.

Logan, Ahlf, and Nick came over, and a little later Pat showed up. We went outside to throw the football when I got a text from Danny, asking if I wanted to come back for night fishing. I wanted to. Bad. It was already 7:30, and the last rays of the sun had dipped back over the horizon. It was impossible. My mom was at work, and either way there was no way she was driving me there or picking me up. I didn't see a way. But I really did want to go.

I called my cousin, and she said she would drive me. But how would I get home? After a long series of texts, phone calls, google map estimations, and train schedules, I worked out a water tight plan. First off, to any sneaky excursion, there has to be an insurance plan. I called my Dad, and told him that Tonya had offered to pick me up, and we'd go out to eat with some friends since it was her last night in Matawan before going back to College. He loves when I hang out with family, and agreed all to readily. 

Back To Spring Lake

It was around 8:45 when Tonya got to my house. Her and her friend Lamar waited in the driveway as I ran around packing the things I would need. She came in and talked with my mom for a little before I hopped in the Camry, and we sped off back towards the ocean. 

I got back to Spring Lake right at 9:30. When we arrived at the house, Dan took me over to meet Alexs' parents. I did my best to make small talk and carry on the conversation. They have an awesome house by the way. Its big and victorian, the inside is very very nice. I lingered at the outdoor table little while longer before joining Dan, Alex, his younger brother, and his cousin, in the garage, to rig up rods, and decide on a location to fish. We opted for the pipe, where it was rumored a 20lb fish had been caught earlier.

Night Fishing on the Beach

The darkness that now blanketed the east coast was held back behind the beach, by the brightness of the streetlights that lined Ocean Avenue. The moon was bright and it was a very clear night. You could see the surf crashing off the beach. We walked at a brisk pace. I couldn't wait to get on the sand. Surf fishing is generally new ground for me, and I didn't know what to expect. The heat of the day had given way to a cool breezy night. I wondered what was behind those walls of whitewater. Big striped bass, I hoped.

We reached the end of the boardwalk, and hiked over to where the pipe ran out into the ocean. When we got there however, we decided that going on the pipe with the surf this heavy would be too dangerous, so we stayed on the beach. First cast out Danny got a nice fluke. Which we put in my bag. I baited up my rod, and casted out far beyond the breakers, I set it down in a holder and took out the aluminum can stove I made earlier when I got bored. I tried to boil some water to make hot chocolate, oatmeal, hardboiled eggs, or ramen, but the cup was too thick and all I got was hot water. It was nice though. I felt really cool that my little invention worked. 

Night fishing was over before we knew it. Although we only spent a little over an hour fishing, and we only had a measly fluke to show for it, I was content. Being on the beach at night in itself was an experience. For awhile I forgot about fishing, the little flame from my stove provided a faint sense of warmth, and the sound of the waves crashing began to almost hypnotize me. The sounds, sights, and the smell of the ocean all combined to form a vivid space that was both intriguing and mysterious. Unfortunately, Alex's mom wanted us back in the house by 11, and we were already pushing that by the time the gear was packed and we were all back on the board walk. The walk back would prove to be pretty interesting. 

Here's why.

I'll let you decide what this is a picture of.

Let's just say it wouldn't be a scene in a disney movie.

Sleeping Over Alex's

We got back to Alex's house to find his father and Uncle still outside talking. We showed them our catch. Alex's Uncle, Andy, is about as professional as you can get when it comes to fishing. He's a big game guy, and his trips center around the big tuna, marlin, and other deep water fish you find 60-100 miles off the coast. And like any other fisherman, he had his fish stories. You probably hate fishing stories because of me, but there are few things I would rather hear and adult talk about more. Uncle Andy told of stories of giant Tunas, and epic 6 hour battles. He showed us pictures on his iphone too. Dan and I could only dream of catching fish so big.

Dan, Alex, and I settled down in one of the mini living rooms on the first floor. Dan hogged the couch of course, and I was stuck with the floor. I was out cold within 2 minutes.

The Train Home

I woke up to a bright Sunday morning. The floor left me sore again, and when I looked over, Danny was barely awake. I fought valiantly against the morning, a desperate battle which I eventually lost. It was almost 9:15, and if I slept any longer I would miss my 9:30 train to Matawan. I got up and threw my stuff in my bag.I said my goodbyes, and told Alex to thank his father for letting me stay. The air was starting to warm up, and the chilly breezes of yesterday morning were replaced by a stagnant lukewarm cool. I ran over to the garage to grab my fishing rod and the fluke. I walked down the drive way and turned around to admire the house one last time. And from there I crossed the street, and took off jogging towards the Spring Lake Rail Station. It was a long run. I passed through the old victorian sector, lined with big houses like Alex's. An old lady was walking through through the park when i reached the end of the street, which came to a hault at the edge of Spring Lake (the lake, not the town) She gave me directions, and I took off again. I crossed over Spring Lake, and a few hundred yards later, I was standing on the platform, out of breath, but in time. 

The train ride was amazing. I fell asleep between Bradley Beach and Longbranch. At Longbranch I transfered trains and sank back into a comfortable seat on the top deck. I sat across from this girl on her cell phone the whole ride. She had the most annoying voice I had ever heard, and she talked loudly and with poor conversational skills. She reassured her friend she had made sufficient progress in finding a new man, and stated that it was "GOOD THAT YOU CONNECTED WITH SOMEONE. I MEAN. THAT'S REALLY GOOD. I MEAN. JUST THAT YOU FOUND SOMEONE YOU COULD CONNECT WITH... THATS REALLY GOOD." This went on for quite some time before a brave lady in the back of the car stepped up and told her to "SHUT UP OR MOVE!" She sheepishly closed her phone, and gave up with little resistence. I don't know if the applause I heard was imagined or not.

Matawan, Church, and Home

I stepped off the train in Matawan, and found Tonya parked in a nearby lot. We ate at McDonalds, which was nice. When we were little her Dad used to take us there every Saturday morning. The place hadn't changed much. Breakfast was good, and from there she drove me to church. My mom was there, and that was my way home. 

I got back around 1, went inside, and slept. Epicness still radiating throughout my slumber.

-Chris

Music I'm Listening to Right Now:

School and September

To my readers,

Before you read this, I just want to say I'm sorry for neglecting this blog. Lately a lot of people have been starting blogs. Very few blogs were around when I started this one, and I guess it just started to feel really unoriginal. There are a lot of blogs out there now, and I hope the few readers that enjoyed my blog haven't moved on. I'll do my best to keep writing, and if for some reason I'm not on the ball with that, let me know! I can't tell you how amazing it is was when random people I had no idea read my blog came up to me and asked me why I had stopped writing. They missed my blog and wanted more! It's just an amazing feeling as a writer to know that people actually enjoy your ramblings, it felt like I had achieved something. So yeah, encouragement makes a HUGE difference. There are times when my writing morale gets very low. So if you read and enjoy my crap, by all means PLEASE let me know if you'd like to see more. You wouldn't believe the difference it makes

-Chris

School

 

This, my dear readers, is Manalapan High School. Where the grades are low, the freshmen are lower, and a surprisingly low amount of damns are distributed per capita, if any at all. (No one cares)

Manalapan High School is a magical place, where students discover who they really are, and grow into the social butterflies that they are destined to become. lol about that. These are some pics I took today for yearbook. 

On a more serious note, Manalapan isn't such a bad high school. A lot of people complain, but I kinda like it. The lunches aren't always (completely) revolting, and other than the obnoxious lack of air conditioning in some of the rooms, its bearable. Sneaking out of class and roaming around is fun too. 

However, there is a much more dark and sinister side. The academic side. Behind the many doors of the many hallways, you'll find classes that make you want to slowly gouge your eyes out, like my 2nd period Intermediate Algebra 2 class. If James Tancredi ever reads this, disrupt the class more. It makes the torture of Algebra and Mrs. Rose's robot voice that much less painful. 

Mrs. Rose is boring, but shes not mean like (dun dun dun) Mr. Sprague. I'm pretty much willing to bet my cat Jibbles that anyone who has spent more than 10 minutes in a room with him, has instantly developed an intense burning hatred for this man. He loudly informed one girl in our 11th period wood working class that she looked like a cow. She was chewing gum, and he went off on a fit of rage at her 'act of defiance'. 

I wanted to stand up and give him a limb tearing "Mr. Sprague, saying that was both disrespectful and unprofessional, if this is the example you wish to provide us with, then how can you expect us to treat you any different?" speech. Followed by a nonchalant, brisk walk out the door, accompanied by a loud applause. But of course I kept my mouth shut. He also says the word cockroach really weird. "You can't chew gum in here or else all the cock-a-roaches are gonna come." I transfered out.

Seeing all the your friends makes up for the brutality of academics, though. And it's a welcome change to actually see people before 1 o'clock in the afternoon. I guess that's what makes it all worthwhile to me, the people I call my friends. Because I probably wouldn't show up without them.

Still wish it was summer, despite all that.

I wrote all that ^ A few days ago. About some stuff that happened today...

Today the seniors took their class picture at the bleachers. Now, I'm lucky enough to be friends with Gwen Kirsten, who, since last year, has been able to get me out of more classes than I can remember to take pictures for the yearbook staff. That being said, the amount of typical boring school days greatly exceeds the amount of exciting, 'yay! lets miss class!' days. But when they come around, whether it be by Class Council, Yearbook, or International Day, they always make for a memorable time. Especially when you get to miss the majority of class for the day. 

I use my camera to get out of class a lot. A simple look of false boredom, mixed in with a little concern, aggravation, and the sight of a big DSLR camera and a respectful tone of voice, is usually more than enough to get out of pretty much any class. It helps to be asian too, we're a trustworthy race for the most part. Excluding Pearl Harbor and the whole Triad thing of course.

So today I spent 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, period riding in a golf cart with Gwen, Mrs. Albanese, and some other yearbook kids. Oh, and taking pictures of course. It was fun, especially flying past the classroom windows and laughing at the kids trapped in class. That was probably my favorite part =] I'm actually grinning right now. 

After school I went to the home opener for boys varsity soccer. We lost but it was fun. I finally got to use my megaphone for an extended period of time. I felt very cool.

September

September is a bittersweet time for me. My year is a constant countdown for the last bell of that last day, when we finally get turned loose for those 2 amazing months. But even as we mourn the passing of another summer, and even though we speak of the days ahead - the school days - with bitter tones, no matter how much some of us deny it, there will always be that sinking feeling way in the back of our heads that secretly longs to be back in those hallways. Walking with our friends, and see those familiar sights we haven't seen since June. I have to admit, I enjoy being back in school. There are times I'm more miserable than a beached whale and I can't stand to be conscious in that building, but 73% of the time I'm enjoying myself or something close to that.

But September 1st didn't mark the end of our summer adventures. In an episode of surprising awesomeness, Danny Tal, the indecisive - and at times a little awkward - boy we all know and love, decided it was time to break out of his shell and so something crazy. 

The first subtle signs of fall chillyness began to creep through my tshirt as I waited for Danny to bring the truck around that day. It was September 5th, and we had already been to school for 1 day. I ran inside to grab a hoodie. Danny pulled up in his truck shortly after. Danny is 16, and only has his permit. I've never know him to be much of a risk-taker, so seeing him driving alone and defying the law, was certainly a strange sight. We put a few fishing rods and some fire starting materials in the bed, and took off for Tyler Alhf's. Danny drove at a steady pace, you could hardly tell that he had only been driving since February. His motions were fluid, and he came out of his turns smoothly.

When we got to Tyler's we loaded a few stacks of firewood among some other things, and from there on Danny Matthew Tal shattered all existing perceptions I had of him. He brazenly steered us down Millhurst, and we drove to Wendy's to grab something to eat before going on to the bonfire lake. It was maybe 8:30 by the time we left Wendys. And by the time we got to the lake it was completely dark out. The air was crisp and cool. We hopped out and built a big roaring fire. The sound of crackling wood was a comfort to me. My mind drifted back to so many nights past, where I sat around the same fire pit, and gazed over the brilliance of the night sky, the solemn trees, and the stillness of the lake as the flames kept me warm and illuminated the surroundling landscape. It was all very nostalgic. We talked for awhile, but I left a little while in to go fishing. 

I tied on a top water popper, and began casting out along the lilly pads and standing reeds. After maybe 20 minutes of slipping on the slick bank, fumbling with backlashes, and cleaning my lure of weeds, I got a strike. A big one. The water surged violently, and my lure was engulfed by a nice sized bass. I brought it up on land, and we cleaned it and cooked it over the fire. It was TASTY. I know it sounds disgusting, but it was totally Bear Grylls-esque, and we felt like pretty manly men.

It was time to leave before we knew it. I felt good as I watched the white lines flash by one after another as we drove back. Danny skillfully guided us homeward, and after a brief scuffle at Quik Check, where we came a little too close to a police car then we probably should have, we were back at Dannys. And with that, we ended our summer, for real.

Thats it for now. Gotta do homework

- Chris

Music that I'm listening to right now: