Jersey Boy

One of the biggest advantages about moving back to the East Coast after a year in Kansas City is the close geographical proximity we have to places comprised mainly of buildings, rather than corn. Living out there had its charms, to be sure, but when the best a 3-hour drive could do is get you to the likes of Tulsa or Omaha, one realizes just how much he misses home, and family.

It was with that in mind that I made two trips to New Jersey earlier this summer, where I was born and lived until kindergarten before moving to Virginia. My uncle's family still lives there, and after a challenging first couple months back in this area, I decided to get away for a weekend and drive up to see them. It was the best thing I ever could have done. I reconnected with family, put some tough times behind me, and perhaps most importantly, I met the meatball. She's back south for the year, but that wasn't going to stand in the way of more good Jersey memories for me.

Friday Night Lights

It's a quick drive to east Jersey from Baltimore; I left after work Friday and made it in time for dinner. By dinner, I mean, I skipped pasta with homemade bolognese sauce to get to a local high school football game in the fourth quarter. The mighty Red Bank Catholic Caseys were 6-0 on the season and destroying the also-undefeated Manalapan Braves 28-7 by the time I got there, and went on to win 35-7. RBC has scored 319 points in seven games now this fall, only allowing 30. Yikes. They dem boyz.

A spirited bunch

I knew none of this going into the game, and had no idea there even was a game until I got to my uncle's house in Little Silver, right next to Red Bank. He mentioned the possibility of going, and I was sold. The RBC side of the stands was packed when we got there, so we sat with the visiting fans. I make fun of Gina all the time for her accent, which she insists doesn't exist, but it does. You can't grow up in that part of Jersey and not have an accent, but it's fine, my dear. It's the voice of an angel. It's the voice of something, at least. We sat right in front of the cheerleaders, and it was probably as Jersey as the stereotype suggests. All Italians who had come down from Brooklyn and Staten Island to live in Jersey. All the girls with high hair. All last names with vowels at the end (hey Rizzo? Rizzo? RIZZO?!?). I was endlessly entertained by them, and the screaming parents. ("'Ay, 'ay, throw da bool down da field!)

After the game we picked up my cousin Ann, who's a junior in high school and doesn't have her license yet. She was at a party -- well, a bunch of people meeting at a huge coffee shop in neighboring Long Branch. To be fair, it was a pretty cool coffee shop with a lively atmosphere and engaging clientele. The problem is, if you don't have a coffee bar and if you have to sit down for the coffee or food to be delivered and you can't get anything to go, what's the point? Come on, Inkwells. Let's get it together.

After we got home that night, it was off to bed to be ready for our trip up to Hoboken the next morning.

Saturday, What a Day

I mean..can't beat this view

My other cousin Chris has started his collegiate career this fall at Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken, right across the Hudson from New York City. It's a small school, with less than 3,000 undergrads, but it's great for engineering (and I'd hope many other programs, seeing as tuition, room, and board costs over $58,000 a year) and that's what he wants to do. It's a gorgeous campus, though small, on a hill with views out over the river onto Manhattan. The place is hard to beat in the fall, with the festive foliage in full effect on the green, lush grounds.

We walked around campus for a bit, but there really is only so much you can do there, before heading down to the promenade. We followed that for a bit and made our way into the rest of Hoboken.

If Hoboken was anywhere near affordable, it could be a fun place to live. It's stunningly scenic and provides convenient, quick access into New York. You can go jogging, walk your dog, sit in the park, stroll along the river, whatever you want. Everything you need is right on Washington Street -- a never-ending multitude of shops, bars, restaurants, etc. Therein lies the problem, however. The street is huge, and it's busy, but there's not much outside of it. Parking would be a nightmare. For the price you have to pay to find a decent place to live in Hoboken, I'd rather look at options elsewhere.

Normal size paper plate. Not-so-normal size pizza.

Still, a place with the biggest slice of pizza I've ever had, with no exaggeration, can't be all bad, so I was content for the afternoon. From what I hear, this particular establishment called Benny T's has a unique hallmark in which parents bring their newborn babies and hold them up against one slice of pizza. It's my kind of place. There's also a Ben and Jerry's and a Rita's down the street, so I was content for the afternoon.

Chris packed his stuff, and we headed back south to Little Silver. Let me tell you, driving around the area by Newark and its airport is the stuff dreams are made of, if your dreams feature never-ending factories, parking lots, and train tracks. My body is tingling even now.

We spent the rest of Saturday afternoon watching college football -- I'm embarrassed to be a Michigan fan at the moment. Aunt Kate made a delicious dinner with grilled shrimp, steak, green beans, Caesar salad, and rice pilaf. I want more of it now, please. A few competitive rounds of the card/board game Sequence brought out a desire for dessert that simply needed to be satisfied immediately, so I took Ann and Chris to Hoffman's and we gorged ourselves like animals. All three of us are tiny, but don't let that fool you. We're tanks. The best part was, Sunday morning would bring another change to indulge.

 

Sunday

Gina's lovely mother lives in a nearby town -- the same one I lived in, in fact -- and we'd agreed to meet for breakfast at 9:30. My aunt was insistent upon our family going to church at 11:30, so I figured that's fine, I mean, how long can breakfast take, right? Should make it back in time with ease. I had met Bonnie the two times I'd been up to Jersey before, but only for a few minutes on each occasion, so sure, I was nervous. I got there at 9:15 even though the place we went was literally a two-minute drive from my uncle's house. After being five minutes later to my first date with Gina, though, clearly I wasn't going to take any risks this time around.

Ninety minutes full of sparkling conversation later, I was a happy camper. I had an omelet with pastrami (when in Jersey, right?), caramelized onions, spinach, and provolone cheese. We had a great talk about a wide variety of things, and I'm very much looking forward to seeing her again in November on my next visit to Jersey.

Church was fine -- it's church so, I mean, ehh -- and we got back to my uncle's just in time for more football. After Michigan's disastrous performance on Saturday, I was thrilled that my Buffalo Bills came to Jersey and made a mockery of the hopeless Jets and Geno Smith. There are very few places I'd rather be than walking off that field after throwing three interceptions in the first quarter. New York/New Jersey sports fans are many things, but kind-hearted and patient are not two of them.

After the game, I packed up my stuff, thanked my family for yet another great weekend, the third one I've had with them these past few months, and hit the road back to Baltimore. It'll be a quiet weekend at home in Virginia this week, but the weekend after is beckoning already. My triumphant return to South Carolina. The meatball. Yes.

Another Carolina...Trip Down!

Wheels up to Carolina

There are many things in this world that don't make sense to me, but why US Airways had me connect in Philadelphia on my way from Baltimore to Charlotte this past Thursday evening truly boggles the mind. I could, quite literally, have driven from my house in Baltimore to the airport in Philadelphia faster than it took me to drive to BWI, go through security, board the plane, and fly to the City of Brotherly Love. Why not just fly directly from Philadelphia to Charlotte, then, you ask? Because that would've been more expensive. And then my second flight was delayed 30 minutes, anyway. Of course. Sigh.

The meatball was wonderful enough to make the 90-mile drive from Columbia to Charlotte to pick me up on a school night, and we made our way back to South Carolina. You gotta have tunes for a trip like that, right? So as I rummaged through her glove compartment navigating my fingers through countless cords and chargers searching for something to plug my iPod into her stereo, I was coming up empty. After turning her overhead lights on, we were finally able to find the right cord, and the rest of the ride was smooth sailing. Or so I thought, until the morning.

Friday

Gina had an exam Friday morning, so we got up early to prepare, and by prepare I mean she studied her marketing research material that would've put me back to sleep immediately (I don't understand a single word of it) while I read Bill Bryson's endlessly entertaining A Walk in the Woods, the author's account of hiking the Appalachian Trail. Because her exam wasn't going to take long and we wanted to go to lunch right after, I wanted to come onto campus with her and just wait in the Business School (hey, Darla) for her to finish. That unique combination of New Jersey and Italian feistyness burst into the house after going out to her car, White Sauce, with the unfortunate news that it wouldn't start. Turns out we, and by we I mean I, didn't turn the overhead light off after trying to find my iPod, and the battery died. The most powerful of jump-starts from her roommate Julie's impressively huge, and tank-like, Jeep Wrangler, was needed to bring White Sauce back to life. We were on our way.

Her exam took, with no exaggeration, 12 whole minutes. I didn't even have a chance to get comfy in my chair or listen to any of the podcasts I wanted to catch up on. How selfish of her to excel in school. God. From there it was onto lunch at DiPrato's, which has the best bacon and pimiento cheese dip with pita bread one could imagine. Truly food of the heavens. The man upstairs himself couldn't eat anything more delicious.

According to my lovely mother, and I must admit that I fully agreed wholeheartedly, the state of my pants situation lately has been dire. Holes everywhere in the few pairs of jeans that I have, which date from high school, and I can't wear shorts for much longer this year. After much hand-wringing and protestation, then, it was off to the mall in Columbia. I could never stomach shopping for clothes with my mom, and it wasn't much more appealing with my girlfriend, but I suppose women always know best. I guess. Many stores and wrong sizes and trying-on-of-things later, I emerged with three new pairs of pants and four pairs of fun socks, the highlight of the excursion for me. I'm just so playful and carefree.

Saturday was going to be a busy day, so the rest of Friday was spent pretty quietly. I met another of Gina's roommates, Emily, who was out of town the previous time I visited Columbia this fall. Emily is a gem. It was great to get to know her the whole weekend, and suffice it to say she knows what I think about her. We went out to a couple bars in town that night, but nothing too crazy since we had to be up early the next morning. Football!!

Saturday

Hey GeanBean

South Carolina's struggles on the football field this season, combined with their lowly opponent, Furman, resulted in a noon kickoff Saturday instead of a later start in the day. That meant being up by 8 to get ready to leave the house at 9 to tailgate, and I was fine with it. Having gone to a D2 college myself but being such a passionate fan of Michigan, it was about time I got to experience a major college football game in person.

Unsurprisingly, the game itself was a blowout. South Carolina destroyed Furman, 41-10, but it was the entire experience that stood out for me. Tailgating with so many students on gameday, right next to the stadium, was terrific, and I can only imagine how much better it would have been had the opponent been more appealing or had the game started later in the afternoon. I've been on the field at Texas A&M, at Nebraska in the snow, been right next to Ohio State's stadium in the parking lot, and down the street from Wisconsin's, but none of those trips occurred for a game. Williams-Brice Stadium and the 78,101 people in attendance weren't particularly loud on this day, even though it was Homecoming, but I was able to cross a bucket list item off nonetheless.

In my classic fashion, I forgot to wear sunscreen and was truly worried to no end that I was going to resemble a lobster before we went to the South Carolina State Fair that evening. Luckily Gina came to the rescue, as always, and procured one of those towels they hand out to fans to wave at key points in the game. Believe me when I tell you those towels weren't used often at this game, but one served as a nice headband/helmet to protect my face.

State Fair

We took a nap after the game -- it's a hard life, college football Saturdays -- and got ready to head to the fair. We went with Gina's friend Sam and her brother, who is in town visiting from his college in Florida. South Carolina's residents were on their best form, eating their weight in fried things. We saw one gentleman with his jeans starting much lower than a person's shorts usually end being led out in handcuffs by two policemen. I hadn't been to an amusement park in a long time -- shoutout to Kings Dominion! Tivoli Gardens! -- and was ill-prepared for the terror that gripped me on the swinging pirate ship and the mega drop, Tower of Terror-type ride. I thought it was over for me. I made noises humans don't normally make. I was thrilled to have Gina ride the log flume with me, though she clearly had no desire to do that, and was even more thrilled when we got wetter than either of us had expected. For a girl who loves the water, Jerz wasn't too happy about her predicament post-flume. She cheered up after the deep-fried Snickers bar we had as we left the fair. Mmm.

Saturday evening was spent in rapturous, rip-roaring fashion, watching Gerard Butler save the country from the invasion of Koreans and their capture of the White House. Nothing says America like a Scottish actor single-handedly destroying North Koreans, amIright?

Sunday

We had no particular plans for Sunday, other than to make dinner before I had to head back to the airport, so it was perfect when Emily, a girl after my own heart, came over and asked if we wanted to watch USC's women's soccer team play that afternoon. I'm never one to turn down a sporting event so obviously I was in, and we all settled in to watch the Gamecocks cruise to a 2-0 victory over visiting Ole Miss. The Rebels contributed absolutely nothing to the game, but unlike USC, they're a real football school so their lack of talent on the pitch could be forgiven. Oh Cocks, I kid because I love. Just been a tough year for the boyz.

Gina and I went grocery shopping to make dinner. We had the best intentions -- salmon with lemon, pepper, and garlic, asparagus with cheese and butter, and mashed potatoes. Everything was going well until we actually pulled the salmon out of the oven. A bit dry, but c'est la vie. Can't win 'em all. Whatever other cliche you'd like to insert here.

I packed up and we made the drive back to Charlotte, this time for a non-stop flight back to Baltimore. I fell asleep before takeoff, a particular talent of mine, but due to my own moronic actions, I ended up not getting home until much later than was necessary. Credit to the shuttle bus driver and the airport parking guy who stayed very late into the night with me, cruising Long Term Lot B. Another story for another day.

Heading back to my roots in New Jersey this weekend to visit my uncle's family. No trip to Jerz would be complete without a recap. Until then.

Festivals and Punkins

Gin and Juice. Clever, no?

Pizza is the perfect food. You’ve got bread in the crust, cheese for dairy, tomato sauce for a vegetable, and any kind of meat you want. It covers all the bases. The meatball was flying in to visit for the weekend, and her plane was supposed to land at 9:10 Thursday night. The airport is 20 minutes away; the pizza place by my house closes at 10, so I figured we’d make it in time to pick up the ziti-and-sausage pizza that had our names on it. A half hour-delay to her flight from Charlotte later, and we were out of luck on the pizza front and had to scramble. What’s the next best thing, you ask? Hit Target and get two packs of Bagel Bites (cheese and pepperoni, obviously) for us and Cheddar Bunnies for her. Don’t worry, the quality of food improved significantly as the weekend went on.

I met Gina and her good friend from home for lunch Friday afternoon; Jen goes to University of Delaware and made the short drive to Baltimore. You wouldn’t be surprised to know we got pizza at a place near my office in Harbor East, and Jen and Gina went off to do such things as shop and watch Vines for hours until I left work. Despite being from the same hometown in Jersey, Jen’s accent is much more pleasing on the ear than Gina’s – that is to say, Jen doesn’t have one. Perfect. The Orioles had just completed a huge comeback win in Game 2 of their series against Detroit, so the streets were packed with fans leaving Camden Yards in their most flattering shades of orange.

After Jen left town, Gina and I walked to dinner at a neighborhood tavern called Annabel Lee. It was packed, so we couldn’t get a table, but our seats at the corner of the bar provided prime opportunities to people-watch, one of our favorite pastimes. There was the guy as short as a jockey but as big as Ronnie from Jersey Shore on a date with a woman who ordered martinis and sauvignon blanc. There was the guy who looked a typical lax bro/hockey player from Canada with his hair slicked back on what had to have been a first date with a lovely blonde. After the customary “I’ll pay half” “No no no, I got it” “Are you sure?” “Yep” byplay, they left to continue their evening. Despite going to school in South Carolina, Gina has never had grits, and I persuaded her to try them with poached egg and duck, and some sort of wine. Safe to say it was a good decision. I got Shiner Oktoberfest with Cajun alfredo with asparagus, which in itself was a big move for me as I’m a child and don’t exactly love vegetables. Also turned out to be an excellent decision. We had plans to check out the Fells Point Festival downtown, but walking back home on what turned into a rainy night discouraged those quickly. Instead, we watched Sherlock on Netflix and fell asleep by 10. We’re wild, I know.

Fredericksburg

Saturday was meet-the-parents day, and it went as well as one could hope. I was born in New Jersey and lived there, in the same town as Gina, until my family moved to Virginia when I was in kindergarten. Bye-bye, Saint Veronica’s (or as I apparently called it, Saint Harmonicas). This gave Gina and my mom plenty of things to talk about as she had spent the majority of her life in Jersey as well. My dad and I performed the manly task of changing the taillight in my car while much of this was going on, and after watching a bit of soccer and some more getting-to-know-you that included tales from my childhood and looking at baby pictures, we headed for downtown Fredericksburg.

Fredericksburg is a small town, with not a ton going on over an average weekend, but it’s still home and I wanted to show it off. I showed Gina my high school (TCB, amIright?) and we walked around the campus of the local university. It was a picturesque fall day, sun shining and in the sixties. When we parked downtown to walk around some more, we heard a cacophony of noise and music. Suffice it to say that that isn’t normal for Fredericksburg. As we headed towards it and began to see streets that were blocked off, it was clear something big was going on. Oktoberfest had arrived, and I’m pretty sure Fredericksburg’s entire population was in attendance. The sights and smells were glorious. The beer was flowing, sausages were grilling, and the sidewalks were packed. Restaurants were filled to the brim. We stumbled upon a bookstore I’d never heard of, and as both of us enjoy reading passionately, we stopped in and browsed contentedly. After a quick lunch and ice cream (because who can resist ice cream, honestly?), it was time for the surprise of the weekend.

I grew up going on field trips to Belvedere Plantation, just outside Fredericksburg, but didn’t

Got a punkin!

remember too much about it other than it had a barn, animals, and a corn maze. Most notably, though, it has a pumpkin patch, and I thought that’d be an entertaining way to spend the afternoon. I was right, even though we were passed repeatedly by little children in the maze and couldn’t, for the life of us, figure out how to get to the end. If you put us in the wilderness, you could probably count on one hand the amount of hours it would take for us to reach our demises. It was embarrassing. We pedaled these push-cart contraptions around a track, watched goats fight each other and defecate, saw a pig bury its head in mulch and finally emerge with the dirtiest face you’ll ever see, which is saying something for a pig, watched other pigs race at Swine Speedway, and competed in an arcade-style game shooting basketballs and throwing footballs and baseballs through a hole on the other side. The meatball turned out to be a meatballer. She was a champ. We found a 13-pound pumpkin after a hayride that seemingly took an eternity. We watched a guy have 7 pumpkins stacked on him because all-you-can-carry pumpkins are $29.99 instead of paying 69 cents per pound for a pumpkin. It was the perfect day, in that gross, couple-y way.

Back to Baltimore

#foodporn

We spent Sunday in Baltimore and began it the only way we know – by eating. Brunch at Langermann’s was undoubtedly one of the best meals either of us have ever had – unlimited bacon, grits, biscuits and gravy, and Caesar salad with corn, followed by the main course of poached eggs in hollandaise sauce on an English muffin. Gina got hers with Chesapeake crab cake, I had mine with smoked salmon. No mimosa for me, thanks. Our waitress brought the check before we got the eggs, and after a panicked text to Gina’s friend Julie, the miscommunication was worked out and all was right with the world. Our food comas resulted in a short nap while watching football, before heading out to walk the harbor before it was time to drive Gina back to the airport. As we strolled, we again saw streets blocked off and heard loud music, so we went to explore. It was the Fells Point Festival we had wanted to go to Friday night. Gina, the doll that she is, bought a snocone for me and I got her lemonade. The couple that feeds together stays together. 

In two weekends, I’ll make my second trip of the fall to Columbia, where I’ll finally get to attend my first-ever college football game when South Carolina hosts Furman. My personal battle with Columbia is ongoing, as it currently leads me 2-0, but with two more trips scheduled in 2014, I’m determined to even the scoreline.