Latin Catholic by birth, Byzantine Catholic by the grace of God.
Pro: Restoration of the Holy and Universal Christian Roman Empire.
Caveat: The author makes no claim to being an exemplar of Catholicism or Monarchism (or blogging).
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Location: Upstate, New York, United States

Monday, April 11, 2005

New York Journal

This past weekend, I had to take one of my semi-annual trips to New York City to visit my in-laws.

NYC isn't really all that different from upstate, except upstate has more deer and fewer prostitutes. Still, even after all these years, it feels like a foreign country. Whenever I go there, I see things everywhere and think, "Hey, that looks like Grand Theft Auto III." Chinatown, low income housing, the docks ... Does this make me a bigger rube, or a bigger geek? You decide.

Crossing the Throgs Neck Bridge, there was a glorious blue cupola shining in the sun in what appeared to be the outskirts of Manhattan. From a little research, it appears to be St. Nicholas of the OCA. But I'm not sure, they're listed as "Whitestone, NY," and I didn't get a good view of the body of the church.

Somehow I managed to be overdressed at a country club party of upper-upper-middle class Italians. There were about 45 people there, and I was one of only three men wearing a suit. A nice dapper bronze number with matching shoes, sharply patterned tie, and a cream shirt. But the locals mostly wore plain blue blazers, tan pants, and a solid-colored tie. The outfit just screamed, "Lookit me, I got me Sunday Best on!"

We stopped for gas in lower Westchester County on the way home, and I got out to see if there was a bathroom for customers. I nicely asked the Indian fellow behind the counter, and he pointed a surly finger to a sign that read "No Restrooms," and smiled liked he enjoyed disappointing me.

Now, the guy spoke English to his buddy, so there was no reason he couldn't say, "No, I'm sorry, we don't have a restroom." He's just a jerk.

So I said to him, "If you weren't such a charmer, I'd take my gas business elsewhere."

Then he, with a big toothy smile, replied, "We don't care!"

At this point it was all I could do not get mouthy with the guy. I pride myself on personal courtesy, but when it's not returned, I have a hard time turning the other cheek. Downstaters are like wild animals, you never know when they'll go from harmless to violent, so prudence won the day and I walked out. But, I was going to say, "Good luck with your elephant-headed false gods, jackass."

Hee hee, that'd been a good one.


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