WOW!!

On the 12th, I went into the city. The L train [which I still call the "Canarsie Line"] seemed to run normally, but no 4/5/6/1/2/3/A/C/E/B/D/F/N/R/Q/W below 14 some not below 34. The issue was getting below 14th Street without having ID as a resident.

My buddy and I just bluffed our way. It was much more difficult to get back to the office which was near Canal Street.

We wandered west to the highway where most people just cheered every vehicle that passed in each direction. I thought it silly to cheer a dumptruck full of concrete or a flatbed of crushed cars.

My cute Czech assistant called crying to say she didn't set the phone system correctly "no one knows we were closed!!," as the CEO put it.

I thought they had to be morons not to know we were closed. But, he wanted the kid gone if she didn't fix it. Cap'n save-a-ho-who-wasn't-ever-going-to-fuck-with-him-not-even-a-handjob came to the rescue and opted to get his fat butt to the office and turn on the system message.

Getting near Canal Street was interesting.

Army or National Guard stopped me at Houston with no problem. Spring was a bit of an issue, but they let me pass. I was accosted by a HumVee patrol when lifting the gate that exposed the locked doors to the office building.

I sat surrounded by 3 men with heavy guns while the lieutenant awaited instructions on whether I could enter the offices. I still can see their HumVee in my mind's eye. About as wide as Crosby street itself.

Once approved and inside, I recorded the message [I was later criticized both for mumbling and the use of sarcasm] set the system to play it instead of our "welcome" message, grabbed someone's backpack that was left in the closet, filled it with 8 or 9 Guinness-in-a-can-with-a-ping-pong-ball, left and locked up.

I actually met up with the HumVee squad. They wouldn't take the offered Stout.