Unexpected Turns: Our NYC Day 2 Experience

Posted on December 21, 2024 by Joe Cummings

Can you plan for everything?

Well. No. I’ve tried.

And I failed.

No matter how well you plan, you’re always going to neglect to think about something.

We realized, on day 2, it was two things.

First: Clothes.

Not that we forgot clothes, (though this is a common nightmare of mine) but we failed to realize that NY in July is like Florida. Hot and humid and nasty. The moment we stepped outside, we were drenched in sweat. Top to bottom. Clothes stuck to us, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s hair went flat (I didn’t know that was a thing) and we had the life sucked out of us with each step we took.

We should have packed lightweight shirts and shorts. Instead, I had dress shirts for those dress-up dinners. I had two pairs of pants, heavy cotton things. I had kinda tight-fitting golf shirts.

In other words, the worst for this weather.

But day 2 wasn’t a shopping day. Nope. We had things to do. We had a cool tour planned. Not your usual hop-on hop-off tour. Nope. We chose a tour of TV and movie sights. And at night, my personal request – a boat tour of NYC at night. Not your usual boat tour. Nope.

However, we hadn’t planned for one of us to get sick.

On Location Tours

The-Oldest caught a nasty cold, likely on the plane (and not, as his brother hypothesized, because he licked the subway hand poles.)

Do we go without him? Do we stay inside and take a rest day?

Being us, we talked it over and The-Oldest didn’t want us to lose a day. We had things booked, he said. Neither was vital for him to see or do. He wanted us to go without him.

What a cool guy.

We stuffed him with drugs and charged out to catch our tour.

We took the subway to Times Square, again. It would turn out to be our most used stop. It was busier this time, filled with a huge variety of people. More so than people who use the Vancouver SkyTrain.

We found the tour bus, found the tour guide, watched people line-up for a diner though we had no idea why (it turned out to be a singing diner.) We got on a small bus with a small group.

Perfect.

Who you Gonna Call? Ghostbusters!

And the guide took us to a bunch of areas we never would have gone to. Tribeca. The East Village. The Highline. Greenwich village.

We saw the Ghostbuster’s firehall which had real firemen outside. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World took loads of pictures, though when I saw them, they were mostly of the firemen. I think she even asked them if they’d take off their shirts.

The Friend’s Apartment

We saw where the Friends apartment was, where they shot the Santa scene from Elf (a family favourite), and where Law and Order filmed, which was largely ever street in NYC.

Our guide told a cool story about one of the Fast and Furious films shooting in Times Square and how they could only film for 10 minutes before they had to let people back. It took a whole day for about 30 seconds of film time.

We had a blast. It was the perfect tour for us, though The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World did ask the guide “Are we were going back to see the firemen, errr, the Ghostbuster place with the, you know, firemen?”

He said no.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World frowned. In hindsight, she should have put on her MUST -DO list, “See all the fire halls and rate how hot the firemen are.”

Me, I discovered that a cold Coke in a proper glass bottle on a hot day is the best thing in the world. Seriously. Not beer. Not ice water. American recipe Coke in an ice-cold glass. OMG good. The-Youngest wanted to go to Seinfeld’s soup Nazi (which we drove by but couldn’t stop.) I think he secretly dreams of being a soup Nazi.

It was sad that The-Oldest couldn’t come. He would have loved the Elf location and all the associated stories. Like his brother, he too would have enjoyed teasing me for taking pictures of water towers on top of buildings (but hey, there were so many different types!)

By the time we were done, it was 2. We could have gone home, but no, we decided to go to a place The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World HAD to see.

The NYC library.

But there, too, we were in for a surprise.

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4th of July in NYC: Pizza, Fireworks, and Family Fun

Posted on December 19, 2024 by Joe Cummings

Is there a cure for hot, sweaty, grumpy Canadians who may have walked a little too much in hot, humid summer sun?

Why, yes, yes there is.

It’s ice cream.

And a shower.

And naps.

But could we recover enough energy to go out, brave MASSIVE crowds and see the fireworks?

After making our way back on the subway, thanks to The-Youngest’s most excellent sign reading, we saw an ice cream store. Ben and Jerry’s. Oh, yummy, creamy, tasty, cold ice cream. Most of us ordered a couple of scoops in a cup, but The-Youngest wanted 19 scoops in a huge cone. (OK, it was like 5 but still…).

We had the best laugh as he tried to eat it faster than it melted all over him. Ultimately, I think he got more on him than he ate, but he gave it his best go.

When we got home, we all had cold, cold showers. Oh, lovely cold water. Oh joyous chilly wetness.

Then we all fell asleep like we’d been up for days. Boom. Zzzzzzz.

By 7pm, we were up, and by 8, we had decided to find a good NY pizza joint. The-Youngest had an app that rated all the pizza places in NYC, so the two of us went off to find a good one in the neighbourhood.

However, it was the 4th of July, remember? The first one was closed. The 2nd one was closed. This was no small surprise to me. I thought NYC would be open 24/7 no matter what. Sunday, holiday, the day the world ended… every day.

But we didn’t give up and by not giving up, we had some cool experiences. We got to see New Yorkers being New Yorkers. On several streets, people had come out of their apartments to set up BBQ stands. They sat with friends and family, drinking, sharing jokes, and arguing with each other (which is why I assumed ‘family’).

Now in England, c*nt has a whole lot of meanings. There you are, you c*nt, come here and give us a hug. Or Stop being a c*nt, you f…ing c*nt!!

In NYC, they seem to use mother*cker the same way. At least on the streets we walked along. It was an insult or a term of endearment. Like, “you mother*cking Canadian, did you just step on my foot?” or “Yo, muth-er-f*cker, pull up a seat.”

I could have stopped and listened to the banter for ages or at least until they all stopped and looked at me and said, “The f*uck you standing there for, mother*cker?” to which I would have said, “My good sirs, I do enjoy your gayful repartee but could I, perchance, have one of those ribs on the BBQ?”

They might have said yes—you never know—but I’m Canadian and don’t want to be a bother, so I moved on.

We finally found an open place and triumphantly came home with NY-style pizza. It was fantastic and we taught The-Oldest how to properly eat it like a New Yorker. Fold it. Stare at it for a moment. Look angry. Then eat it.

By the time we finished our pizza, we thought about the fireworks. A choice had to get made.

We were an hour away from the recommended viewing spot. We knew the subway would be a nightmare. Walking might even take more than an hour if we included crowds.

None of us had the stamina or willpower to do either.

But there was a third choice.

What if we just walked to the Hudson River (about 2 blocks from our apartment) and watched from a distance? Huh? Yeah?

Did we have to be RIGHT there? Or was close good enough?

Close was good enough.

4/4 votes on that one.

We wisely put on clothes, stuffed the backpack with our survival supplies, and marched off. The night was hot and humid, but without that evil sun, not terribly hot or humid. We made it to a little outcropping made of rocks.

Now, long ago climbing on a big rock and sitting down was not a hard thing. Being older, it’s totally a thing. I move like I’m Neo in the Matrix, and I have to make grunting noises every time a joint makes a popping sound (so like every 2 seconds).

But the view was decent and sitting on a rock seemed a lot better than standing. So I sat. The boys sat together (like they liked each other) and The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World found a comfy rock just behind me.

While we waited, we listened to a group of students talk about their residencies as healthcare workers. Gosh, those people work hard. I have mad respect for anyone in that profession.

Then the fireworks started with a roar of lights launching into the heavens.

Ultimately, it didn’t make any difference that we weren’t super close to the fireworks. They were spectacular. The sky boomed, lights blossomed, stars exploded, and showers of sparks filled the air. Across the water, in New Jersey, other fireworks went off.

It was all amazing.

It lasted a nearly an hour, which made me even happier that we weren’t standing.

Very worth the 30-minute walk.

But when we got back, showered, again, and changed clothes, again, we noticed that The-Oldest began to cough and get all snotty, and achy.

This was not a good sign.

We forced him to leave and sleep on the street.

Ok, we didn’t. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World had some cold meds, so we fed them to The-Oldest and all went to bed. We had planned a lot for tomorrow. A bus tour and my MUST-DO, the nighttime tour of NYC from the river.

We didn’t know if we’d all be able to make it.

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First Day in NYC: From Subway Struggles to Walking Around New York

Posted on December 14, 2024 by Joe Cummings

So, what would YOU do on your first day in NYC? Would you get up, race to the first big attraction, and take millions of photos? Would you go on a bus tour and see the city? Would you go for a long walk in the baking sun with the humidity about 1000% and inflict a PTSD episode on The-Youngest?

We chose the latter—not by plan, but that’s just kind of how the day worked out. We actually planned to get used to the city and see the Fourth of July fireworks in the evening—nothing fancy, nothing too taxing.

So, it wasn’t until about noon that we got up and going. The boys were just exhausted, which was odd since I thought it would be the parents who would be struggling to get up.

First on our list: figure out the subway. I have to say that when my brother and I went, I never quite got a handle on it. Oh sure, I could get on a subway car but our challenge was getting on the right one. I think we almost ended up in Florida one time.

With The-Youngest leading the way, and The-Oldest shouting warnings to everyone whenever I stopped to take a picture of a plant, a brownstone building or the inside of my pocket, we made it to the subway station without any problem. The-Youngest even managed to find the right entrance to the right train going in the right direction. He accomplished this by “reading the signs, dude.”

However, our first challenge came when we went to buy weekly passes. Being me, I asked the lovely attendant “I’m sorry, but what would be the best choice for Canadians who were here for ten days and didn’t know a thing about NYC or the subway or why is it so hot down here?” As a Canadian, it’s always important to start any question with ‘I’m sorry.”

She told us to buy a weekly pass. She told us to use the machine behind us. She told us the steps we would need to take.

Once upon a time and long ago, I used to be good with computer-like machines but now I get confused if someone buys me a new TV remote. So, I completely failed to get a weekly ticket. I failed so many times that the nice lady came out of the booth and took us step by step through the process.

“Ok, honey, insert your card.”

Me: “Done.”

“Ok, choose your ticket, no not that one, honey, the weekly one, that’s right, you got it, now choose what card you’re going to pay with, no, hmm, that doesn’t seem to be working, but, no, don’t hit cancel, ok, ah, let’s start again…”

So, wow, she was so nice and unbelievably patient. (and as I was later to find out, like most of the New Yorkers who are also super kind and friendly). She never did get my card to work, though, so at least part of the problem was not me being the old, confused guy.

With our tickets in hand, we braved the turnstile. Nearly all of us made it through with any problems, but it took The-Oldest a few tries to get his card to scan properly.

Sweating from the heat INSIDE the subway, we found the platform and got on the first train (the right one, because I wasn’t navigating, The-Youngest was). Since it was a holiday, there were few people on it. We found seats. The AC kept us cool. And not once did someone come up to us to ask for change, ask if our lives were good without God or ask for my wallet.

The stops whizzed by, all with distinct tiles, brickwork or murals. If I go back to New York City, I think I’ll spend a day on the subway stopping at all the stops and taking pictures of all the neat art there.

We climbed out of the subway in Times Square. Everyone but me hated it. “Too loud.” “Too crowded.” “Too hot.” All valid points but I loved the whacky, crazy energy there. However, we hadn’t eaten so we marched on to find a place to eat.

Now, we had vowed not to eat in a chain restaurant and there aren’t a lot of locally run places to eat near Times Square (that we could find, anyway.) We ended up at a rib house that we thought was a NYC local joint.

Sadly, it was not – it was a chain filled with tourists, but it had food and air conditioning. After stomping around in 97-degree heat, and 200% humidity, AC had become as vital to our existence as oxygen or our iPhones.

Worse, being a chain restaurant, it brought back bad memories for The-Youngest who worked in such a place (Montana’s if anyone cares). He wasn’t treated well at his first job, and the experience nearly spoiled his growing love of cooking.

The food was ok, but pricy, and The-Youngest kept up an ongoing rant about what they did wrong preparing the plate, making the food, using commercial sauces instead of homemade, and, ‘there was no way this was smoked in the backroom smoker.”

He was visibly upset. He wanted to leave as fast as we could, so we ate fast and left fast.

Then, for some strange reason, we decided to walk around and see what we saw. You know, like tourists without a plan.

We had to drag The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World away from this window
Central Synagogue

The-Youngest had a rough idea of going to see the building in Suits, so that’s where we headed. Along the way, we saw Broadway, an old synagogue (the Manhattan Central Synagogue), and a few super tall buildings (oh, who are we kidding, there were super tall buildings everywhere!) and I went crazy taking pictures of modern architecture, old architecture, skyscrapers, windows full of jewelry, old-fashioned mail-drops and one building that had windows that looked like the stern of a ship (the navigation guild building).

Oh, I loved it. What an incredible city. We saw churches, fountains, actual art attached to building walls, and entrances to hotels that looked like they were gilded in gold.

But the heat and humidity took it out of us step-by-step. By 3, we decided enough was enough. We made our way back to Times Square via Grand Central Station. What a place Grand Central was. It had a ceiling like a starry sky, grand windows, marble floors, AC, brass railings, stone pillars, golden chandeliers, AC, and large screens filled with a thousand places to go. And AC.

Grand Central Station lives up to the title “Grand”

It was a moving, breathing hub of humanity.

But we didn’t stay long. We needed to get home. Our feet were sore, we were all sweaty and sticky and at least one of us needed a nap.

On our first day, despite our best intentions, we had done too much.

I feared the sun drained the fun out of the day and we wouldn’t have the umph to go out and see the fireworks.

Would we recover?

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Discovering the Charm of the Master Apartments in NYC

Posted on December 13, 2024 by Joe Cummings

July 3rd

There was no parade when we arrived. I was a little disappointed.

What a beautiful old building, the Master Apartments

But we arrived in NYC at my cousin’s apartment at 4pm. The sun was shining. I saw no sign of muggers waiting for us. There were no piles of garbage waiting to be picked up. The Upper East Side looked amazing.

My cousin lives in the most amazing old building that used to be a music school. Built in 1929, it has a guard at the desk, beautiful paintings on the wall, and impressive columns holding up the high ceiling. It has art deco elevator doors, art deco lights, and an art deco floor.

I loved it.

We got into the elevator that shot up so fast that The-Youngest didn’t even have time to turn on his phone and check his feeds. When we got out, we saw the building still had the old mail chute! Even The-Youngest was impressed, though I think he really dreamed of putting something in the chute to see what happened.

We met my cousin in her apartment, and she showed us around.  She had bought about a thousand days of food for us, nineteen types of cheese, and advised us on what to eat, see and do in her Manhattan neighbourhood.

She was incredible. Her place was incredible.

The-Youngest inspects the kitchen
This place was huge

Once two studios for music students, it had been turned into two very long spaces, with the floors so soft, it felt like walking on cushions.

They weren’t carpeted floors, no, it turns out they were cork, polished so much over the years that they felt like leather. LEATHER! There were two ACs, a newly renovated kitchen, and beds for everyone (even the boys got their own sofa bed.)

However, we were all fading. I think it was 4am PST (or at least felt like it). Following my cousin, we spent the last of our energy wandering down to a park across the road and having a nice dinner in the sunshine. We ordered from a buffed-up Mexican food cart that had lost its wheels and grown a big roof. The food was fantastic!

However, it was HOT. Worse, it was hot and humid.

It was then I realized our first mistake (see, I told you in the last blog I’d tell you about the mistake we made.) We hadn’t packed for the discomfort of hot and humid. We had made the mistake of looking at the weather forecasts. Rain. Clouds. Thunderstorms. More clouds. A bit more rain.

Not the massively sunny-sun and sticky humidity that we found on this day.

We now knew why New Yorkers fled NYC at this time of the year.

While we ate, my cousin told us that in NY, people will sit with you at an outside table to eat. Horrified, I found out they would also talk to you. What kind of barbarism is this? In Vancouver, people are far more likely to just stand behind you and glower at you until you leave than sit down and have a wee chat.

She also gave us subway advice (don’t ever get on the empty one, it’s empty for a reason and if there’s an empty seat in a full car, there’s a reason for that as well) but said only the crazies would talk to you in the car – everyone keeps to themselves there.

There was a lot we had to learn.

In NYC, they have boxed water?!?!?

Despite NYC being in, you know, America, it felt a bit like a city in a foreign country. There were new social rules we would have to learn. There were legal rules we would need to know. There were unexpected challenges we would have to face.

However, I have to say from the little I saw, I loved this part of NYC. A park full of doggies and their walkers. Brownstone buildings with those incredibly wide steps. Trees everywhere. A massive mish-mash of architecture all around us.

Wow.

We went back to our apartment, made sure the AC units were blasting away since it was so hot, and then went to sleep. I think I fell asleep with my shirt half off. I dreamed of being trapped in a small bathroom that was being shaken by Andre the Giant.

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Family Travel Adventures: A Journey to NYC

Posted on December 11, 2024 by Joe Cummings

Ok, we left at 4am. We thought we’d thought of everything.

We were all worried about a few things, though.

Being me, I was worried about the crime there. I greatly feared that my Canadian training would fail me.  “I will not give my wallet to you, villain. Now, step away or I shall give you a sound thrashing. Oh, gosh is that a gun?”

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World feared me getting lost forever or The-Youngest touching the wrong thing or super smelly people on the subway or butterflies or bad hot dogs or The-Oldest wandering into traffic while composing a song in his head. I think her list was long and extensive.

The-Oldest feared he wouldn’t be able to compose any songs in his head on this trip or worse, NY bees would find him and attack him.

The-Youngest feared he wouldn’t be treated like an adult, that he would still be thought of as that kid who enjoyed running to the edge of the Grand Canyon and shouting to his mom, “Look how far down it is mom!”

Anyway, we were packed. We were excited. But at 4am, we were already tired.

Now, I don’t hate flying, but it was a 6-hour flight. I put that somewhere between a prostate exam and having to do my taxes.

However, the boys and their mom had seats together. That’s always a win. I was lucky not to get stuck in a middle seat (I had an aisle seat), but I dreaded sitting next to someone who would talk non-stop about their bodily functions or get up every ten minutes to exercise those functions.

Ubers are the way to go

We Uber’d it to the airport. For the first time ever, we all have room in our bags, room enough even to store a personal bag in case The-Youngest bought twenty pairs of gold-plated runners at Saks. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World has used her new sorting bags and now everything has a little snug place. All of us packed enough for a week, since we’ll be able to use the laundry in our cousin’s apartment.

A good plan.

Sort of.

Unless we didn’t realize something really, really important.

More on that in the next blog post

Queen of the airport

Now, the boring part. We got our tickets without any problem. Once inside the airport, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World was a superstar. Airline line? There. Boom. Luggage tagged and sent: Boom. Ticket scanner: Boom. Airline Gate: Right there. Boom.

We got through customs without any problem (though The-Oldest had a life-and-death battle with the ticket scanner), we had time to eat, the plane left on time, and we even boarded without any problems, then..

Whammo. We had to sit for 90 minutes while God moved the thunderstorms out of our way. It’s never fun sitting and waiting. Luckily, we’d paid for a direct flight or that would have buggered up connecting flights.

The 6-hour flight just became a 8 hour flight.

Ack.

Nonetheless, we finally took off.

Nice leg room, family all together

I had nice neighbours – two young girls who spent 99.9% of the flight sleeping. I tried to sleep but failed. I watched some downloaded Netflix shows but even that didn’t hold my attention. I played some brainiac games. I ate all my fingernails. I shifted around in my seat like a two-year-old with a full diaper and glared at The-Youngest who had fallen asleep without any problems at all!

About halfway through the flight, we hit some nasty-ass turbulence.

When I went to the bathroom, I found out something new about myself: I cannot poo when an airplane is ricocheting around like a marble being shaken in a glass by a six-year-old hopped up on sugar in a bouncy castle.

We hit a spot where I felt like I was riding a mechanical bull, except, you know that I had my pants around my ankles. There was no way I could squeeze anything out with the fear of bouncing right off the toilet and my deposit flying around the small room like a scared bat.

So, I just held on to the metal toilet with both hands and prayed that I didn’t die in a very small bathroom 10,000 miles up.

After surviving that turbulence in the bathroom, I went back to my seat and thought of all the interesting things that could happen. An alien on the engine. A terrorist demanding all the candy we had. A Karen yelling at the attendant because she was seated next to a child. A mom smuggling a baby for sale in NYC. All three pilots being stricken with a zombie disease and I would be asked to fly the plane.

It kept my mind occupied.

Sadly, we landed without missiles being fired at us, found our baggage without any problem and even found another Uber after the first one bailed on us.

Uber, though, did not realize either how many people he was picking up or that we had enough baggage for a 10-year stay in the Arctic. He simply didn’t have a big enough car.

I suggested we tie her to the roof, but the driver didn’t have any rope. The-Youngest offered to hold on to the hood like they do in movies, but that was apparently ‘illegal.’ So we stuffed The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the World in the trunk.

The.

Trunk.

Technically, he folded out a 3rd-row seat, but it sure looked like she was in the trunk.

I have to say, it was kind of funny, but not so much when you looked in the back and saw The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World glowering back at you. .

The Washington Bridge Heading into NYC baby!

The excitement rose as we crossed the bridge from New Jersey (where we landed) and into NY proper.

We had arrived.

NYC, watch out!

🙂

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New York City Planned Like a Boss

Posted on December 8, 2024 by Joe Cummings

New York Planning

How do you plan a trip?

I think the D-Day landing took less planning than our trip.

The-Youngest had 400 things he wanted to do. The-Oldest said he’d be happy doing anything. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World just wanted a day of rest, for the love of God, a day of rest, not two weeks of madly running around.

After a little more discussion, a few drinks, and lots of eye-rolling, we had some more concrete answers. It was a tough balance making everyone happy.

The-Youngest found a theme park in Jersey (Six Flags – Great Adventure) with the most terrifying ride of all time (Kingda Ka!). https://youtu.be/RowZkZKzJtU?si=seVL3zQoqtgUWw1W

He also wanted all of us to go on it, but only The-Oldest agreed. Sadly, unlike when I was young and found those rides terrifying but exhilarating, they now are just ways to throw out my back and make me so barfy like I ate mayonnaise after leaving it in the sun for two weeks.

I wanted to see the Statue of Liberty (and Ellis Island). When my brother and I went, I was brought to tears.

The-Oldest wanted to see the Empire State Building, and for his grad present, go to a Broadway musical (the classic Chicago).

For his graduation present, The-Youngest wanted to eat at a fancy steak house. Immediately, he began to search online for the perfect spot. Knowing how he shops, we put a money limit on the restaurant.

New York City Library

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World said she wanted to go to the NYC Library and pet the lions there, but reminded us that she really, really also wanted a day of rest, for the love of God, a day of rest, not two weeks of madly running around.

I also chose a night boat tour of the NY skyline.

We booked those adventures and spread out our ‘wants’ over the two weeks (though Joe 1.0 would have planned all of them for one day, ok, maybe two cuz the Six Flags was a day in and of itself).

Some things were left to the ‘play it by ear,” philosophy. Visit John Lennon’s memorial in Central Park, you say? Why not, it’s nice out. Pouring rain, today, well, me thinks a museum is on the menu.

Speaking of menus, there was so much to try. NY Pizza. Bagels. Bodegas. Hot dogs. 5-star Michelin joints. Bourdain’s best. Ramsey’s worst…Honestly, we could do a whole trip just visiting the best places to eat.

But, I know what you’re going to say. Joe, you haven’t planned enough for this vacation.

And you’d be right. More planning was needed.

So, we planned a bit more.

We had to plan to see the July 4th fireworks, right???

Missing that would be like missing being ignored by French waiters in Paris…like not eating any pasta in Italy…like not being in a football riot in England.

We had to book time for that.

Then, after watching a few more videos, we also added the American Natural History Museum and booked a TV and Movie location tour. (Links will be provided later, I promise). Lastly, we accepted a super kind offer to stay a day or two at our cousin’s lake house and join them for a 911 Memorial Tour.

The two weeks were filling up and The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World began to wander around the house muttering, “is there going to be just one day off, for the love of God, just one day off?”

But I wasn’t done with my planning. Oh, no. I was on a roll.

I thought, since we have traveled together for a few years, I wanted to play to our strengths.

First: The-Youngest, (being by far the fittest) would carry about our SAS survival backpack, with water bottles, sunscreen, a map, battery chargers, Kleenex, jackets, umbrellas, bandages, and snacks to snack on.

His eyes wide, he said, “Wait, what, you know how much that’ll weigh?”

Me: Yes, yes I do. I’ve carried that pack since 2013.

Second: The-Oldest and I were banned from navigating. Now, I have many great traits, but navigation is not one of them. In fact, I suspect my tombstone will read. Gosh, I hope he doesn’t get lost going to wherever he’s trying to go (hell, I suspect). So The-Youngest was in charge of navigation (with backup from The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World).

Third: I would be the family photographer. I always am, but this time, I warned everyone that I would sometimes stop for a picture in the middle of the street or take a longer time than others to get that perfect shot or simply stand in place looking around like I was lost or had a stroke.

Forth: The-Oldest would be in charge of keeping me in sight. At all times. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World thought she should buy one of those child leashes for me, but I pointed out that would just clothesline some little kid at some point.

Fifth: All of us would have to focus on remembering to eat. I know for me this is not a big ask, but when traveling, it’s easy to do the whole, ‘we have to make it to the bus. No time for food, dammit. Run, run, run!!!” Food is especially important to The-Oldest who goes all grumpadoodle if unfed, but we would ALL need as much energy as we could muster.

Whew. Now we were organized. Now we had everything I needed to plan, planned.

I was both excited and terrified.

I was excited because I would get to spend time in one of the greatest cities in the world AND we would also see my NY cousins (one of whom was amazingly gracious to lend us the use of her mid-town Manhattan apartment).

But I was also terrified because the last time I was there, I could not figure out the NYC subway system to save my life, and feared I would get us horribly lost in a gang-infested area where I would be forced to ask, “Hello, my good sirs, do you perchance know the way to the opera?”

However, the excitement outweighed the terror.

So, by the 3rd, I felt we were as prepared as we could be.

Posted in New York City, New York City, Parenting, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Return of Joe 2.0

Posted on December 3, 2024 by Joe Cummings

Ok, first of all, thanks to the people who have contacted or spoken to me requesting I get back to writing a blog. “We miss The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and the boys. We miss your odd historical references that no one understands. We miss correcting all the grammatical and spelling errors.”

It was very heartwarming. We writers are delicate and very needy creatures, so thank you for your concern that I had actually died and gone to hell.

So, time to return.

Sooooo, I’m going to blog about a trip to New York we took in July. Beware: spoiler alert here – all of us survived physically, if not emotionally, so I’m sorry about killing any action/thriller tension.

I hate posting on FB that we are on vacation. You never know if a thief will read it and break in to steal my collection of D&D miniatures (or my best friend will sneak in and put rude post-it notes all over my office.)

So, this is simply a story of our adventures from July 3rd to July 15th, 2024, before the robots revolted, before WW3 broke out, and before they canceled Big Brother after 43 straight years.

Ok, sure the blog is almost ancient history but still, it’s something I want to share.  So, sit down, grab a cup of coffee and be ready for a blog dump so massive that it would clog any toilet.

A trip to NY? All of us? Me, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World, both boys? We all had the same time off?

What?!

We had to do something! The-Oldest had graduated from UBC and The Youngest from high school. We needed to celebrate!

We decided to go on one last family vacation.

Oh, sure, maybe sometime in the future we’ll rent a house on a beach in Mexico and get together with The-Oldest, his wife and his piano, and The-Youngest will bring his twelve children and tired-looking wife but that’s still a few years off, so we wanted to have one while we all could still enjoy it.

Honestly, who knows where the boys will end up? They are both on their own journeys now. Both will have other priorities in life. That’s just the way it is.

So, back in January, we asked the boys where they’d like to go. Europe? Back to Disney World? The Bovingdon Tank Museum?

Sadly, no one but me was interested in the tank museum, (or for that matter, the castles in England, the Cathedrals in France, or the ancient Roman ruins in Italy – though there was some interest in the Red-Light District of Amsterdam, just not with me or mom).

They chose NYC.

Sadly, I think I have failed as a stepdad to fill them with the joy and wonder of moldy-smelling stone keeps and tanks displayed outside massive war museums.

I’ll do better with the grandchildren.

But NYC was a great choice. Not only was it an amazing city (my brother and I had visited it for 2 days in 2019), we had family to see – My NY cousins. One of them even offered her Manhattan apartment for us to stay in and both wanted to join us on a few of our adventures.

So, we made our plans.

Without making plans.

See, we found from our travels as a family that the impressive but perhaps obsessive Joe-planning was a bit much. No one wanted something like, 8:30, get up. 8:32-8:45 bathroom time. 8:45-9:00 self-reflection on how old I look in a mirror these days. 9:00-9:30 eat, make comments on how everyone hates the schedule, then put away the dishes. 9:30-10:00 dress, apply make-up, sunscreen, find where I put the keys, fill backpack with city survival supplies (list posted on the fridge), and remember to tell The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World how pretty she looks. 10:01… well, you get the idea.

Instead, we started with ‘What’s the ONE thing you HAD to do in NYC?’

Stay tuned for our plans.

However, the best and worst part of traveling is that you just can’t predict what will happen.

This adventure had a NY-sized dose of that.

What would you have chosen? What would have made a New York trip truly magical, or at least memorable?

Posted in Parenting, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

First Car

Posted on January 5, 2024 by Joe Cummings

Do you remember your first car? Most of us do. For sure.

Well, on Saturday, The-Youngest got his first car. It is way better than my first car (or The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s first car).

But why does the first car matter so much?

I’ll get to that in my old and slow way.

My first car was a Cricket Colt. I bought it about a year after I got my license with money I’d earned at Zellers working in department 37/39 pets and plants. How I remember that I worked in department 37/39 mystifies me when I can’t recall someone’s name 2 minutes after I’ve met them. I don’t know. Honestly. How?

However, I loved that car. Red on the outside, white on the inside. It took about an hour to get up to 80mph. Not a single woman ever turned their head and thought, wow, look at that guy in that car.

That’s ok.

It wasn’t about the type of car.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World didn’t have a love affair with her first car, a super classy brown Mustang from the era where Ford said, you know that super cool looking Mustang that sells like crazy, well we’re going to make slower, as boxy looking as a box, and as much fun to drive as a Lada.

Still, there must have been a part of her that loved her car. How could you not, even driving that abomination they called a Mustang?

See, for us, it wasn’t about how expensive the car was (not that either of us could afford an expensive car). No, it was about freedom!

Freedom.

For me, it was freedom to get to work. Freedom to pick up my girlfriend. Freedom to race the other kids in their cars through the streets and alleys of Victoria. I could go to a movie, McDonald’s, or my nerdy D&D stores any time I wanted.

Freedom, baby.

And now, much to our stress, The-Youngest has a car.

In typical fashion, he’d done weeks and weeks of research – sometimes with his mom. He knew he needed room for his skis and mountain bike. He knew he needed to be able to drive in all conditions, but didn’t need any off-road, Mad Max capabilities (much to my sadness).

Then, with a list in hand, he and his mom went on a test drive marathon. There’s a whole blog there but the short version is that after testing a few cars, a new listing popped up and they immediately booked another test drive.

Turned out that the just-listed car was a steal, but steals don’t happen often unless you’re in Whalley and then steals happen all the time, but, you know, real steals.

The car was amazing and in great condition and so The-Youngest put on his serious thinking face and did some serious thinking. Was this the car for him? It wasn’t a Tesla. It wasn’t a 3500 Ram. It wasn’t a turbo Civic with undercarriage lights and a stereo system in the trunk that can bring down a building.

It was a Kia. Optima. 2015.

And he bought it.

His first car.

No matter what happens in his life. He will remember this car.

He will remember all his firsts. His first drive in his own car. His first Dairy Queeen pick-up. His first ride with his friends. The first time he picks up a girl for a date (and she’ll be super impressed with his car because it is not a Cricket Colt).

His car gives him freedom.

And for a teenager, freedom is everything…

Even if greater freedom comes with greater responsibility.

Posted in Parenting | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

Joe 3.0 – Making Hard Choices

Posted on July 25, 2023 by Joe Cummings

We all have hard choices in life. To move away from your friends for a better job. To put down your doggeroos. To see John Wick 4 for the 11th time despite it costing about $100 a movie.

Or to sell a car you love.

See, back in 2013, I bought a Mustang. A blue GT 5.0 440hp beast. I had just met the Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and seemed to be coming out of my self-isolation shell.

The car had a beautiful sound and enough room for two young boys in the back (and, little did I know, a HUGE bag of goalie gear.)

It was my mid-life crisis car. You know, get the hot girl, get the hot car, and get a nipple ring.

Well, I did two of those three.

I had always wanted some sort of muscle car ever since my brother and I built used car lots and fill them with fancy cars (then forced my dad to judge who had the best-looking lot). But something grander, a Corvette or even an Audi TT just didn’t seem, well, me.

The Mustang did.

It roared, but not too loudly. It zoom-zoom-zoomed, but not like the newer Teslas which accelerate at the speed of sound. It made all sorts of conversations possible as so many people would walk up to me and talk about their Mustang or how they always wanted one (sadly, no one ever did that for my Civic.)

That car took me on road trips with the boys, got The-Youngest to hockey and baseball practices, and ferried the family to watch The-Oldest transform into a musical genius.

It sported an “I gave blood’ sticker on the dash, a first aid kit under the front seat in case The-Youngest needed it (as he often did), and the steering wheel was well-worn where I death-gripped it drifting. I think The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World will also miss driving the Mustang like a Surrey-Girl with a trunk full of heroin being chased by police helicopters.

But the time had come to sell the old girl (the car – not The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World).

Why?

A part of it was the job. I had to drive into Burnaby and that was costing me a good $120 a week. I had to get a new car. That gas cost was killing me.

As well, though I had to admit it (and if you promise not to tell anyone), I was no longer interested in racing around, drifting on the turns, or eye-balling some young whipper snapper and daring him to beat me to the next light 50 feet away.

I worried too much about parking the car next to another car that might ding her. I worried about the wear and tear of the sun, wind, and rain. I slapped my head every time I misjudged the curb and carved up the wheels.

Besides, another truth was (again, shhhhh), I needed to pay for my new car.

The new car was not a Ferrari or apocalypse-equipped Jeep or a power truck with brass balls hanging from the hitch. No. It was….

A….

Prius.

Ok, laugh if you want, but it seems Joe 3.0 is more practical. One car for another. A fancy, powerful beast for a nice, economical, hybrid that drives in the snow.

See, Joe 3.0 is capable of making hard choices.

It was hard to see the Mustang drive away with someone else. It felt like when The-Oldest left the house. Life was changing for this dinosaur.

And I know as I get older and older, the choices will become harder and harder.

Posted in Parenting, Stepdad | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Joe 3.0 Jobs I’d Do For Free

Posted on July 21, 2023 by Joe Cummings

When looking for a job, I wanted something I’d enjoy, as noted in my blog, something that I wouldn’t take home and stress about, and something that mattered in some small way. However, there were jobs I considered doing for free.

Here are the top 5

  1. HOV lane regulator. I might even pay to do this job. I mean, imagine the satisfaction of pulling over everyone who shouldn’t be in that lane or those who think it’s a super-fast autobahn where they can do any speed they want (usually the same person). Oh, the joy of issuing a $2000 ticket, or delaying them an hour while I figured out how to work the scanner or macing them if they gave me any grief.
  2. Chocolate Bar Tester. Seems easy enough. Bite. Crunch. Yup, that’s good. Bite. Crunch, yup that one needs more crunch. Bite. Crunch. Wait, there shouldn’t be a crunch in the Aero bar, so this one fails.
  3. Masseur for Sofia Vergara: Honestly, there are probably a lot of guys who’d take on a job like that, so my chances of doing this may be zero. However, Joe Manganiello, the massive guy who used to be her husband is no longer in the picture so at least I wouldn’t get murdered for touching his wife.
  4. D-Day Beach History Guide: Or any great historical place, really. As Joe 2.5, I would leap off my couch and run like hell towards the boys if either mentioned they wanted to know more about, say, the Canadians in WW1. I love, love, love history and if I had to do my life over again, I’d have been a history professor. Of course, anyone signing up for my tour may not like it when I tell them to run across Omaha Beach while I shoot at them, but they wanted the ‘full experience.’
  5. Being a part of Matt Mercer’s Critical Role D&D group. Now, they make some serious gold, but I’d happily do it to be part of the story he weaves, be a part of the group that really roleplays their characters, and be across from Laura Bailey (and sigh after saying, Laura you look so lovely today.) I may have to watch out for the giant Travis if he catches me looking at his wife the entire session, though.

I know just before I got my job, I was going to sign up to run D&D games for kids in the hospital (and once work settles down, I just might book off a day each week to do that.)

What job would you do for free?

Posted in Parenting | 8 Comments