OK, so the title entry is harsh- admittedly. In the two days since my adventure in New Jersey, my feelings about the night have moderated somewhat. That said- Jersey has that quote coming- and there’s never a bad time to quote Futurama. Especially an episode that included robot Satan! Anyway, Friday. In a move that could only be fueled by total insanity, Lee and I decided to make the damn near two hour- ninety mile drive, in the Deathmobile, up the Godforsaken NJ Turnpike, to practically in fucking New York, passed the freaking Holland Tunnel- Hoboken. Oh, Hoboken, there is clearly a portal to hell in your not so fair city.
Anyway, we find the place, and there is no parking, at all. We drive around for fifteen mintuies, before finally stumbling onto a garage, that ends up costing us 20 dollars for less than two hours. Yeah, that’s right, twenty bucks to park in fucking Jersey. Not in Philly, or New York, or anyplace someone might want to go- but Jersey. We walk in the rather divey bar (good acoustics tho), shortly after ten. Things are running late, so Lee grabs a beer (served in a NY Giants championship glass- seriously- I don’t think I could have drank it, the green blood in my veins would not have allowed it). Anyway, the place had skanky bathrooms, and holes everywhere. And the floor had some give to it, just not structually sound. Selkow played a great (though unfair abbreviated) set, and we said our goodbyes and went, spending over twice as much time on the road as we did at the place. I was starved tho, and Lee had work in the morning. So, we pay the exoribant parking fees, find our way past the skeezy Holland Tunnel motel back to the NJ Turnpike (the most needlessly complicated highway ever created, and expensive as hell), and desperately tune the radio trying to find something decent, as every radio station in NY is rap, Q102, or in Spanish. How such a large city could have such awful radio is beyond me. When we got down around six flags we stopped at a rest stop to try to get some Burger King before I passed out. Of course, we were still in Jersey, so shit didn’t go well. Despite a lack of any visable food, they claimed to be open, but when I asked about chicken fries, the kid said no, mumbled incoherantly, and gestured towards nothing. So we left. Luckily, we finally made it to PA, and the Neshamity rest stop saved us, as they had a nice, open, clean, friendly, bright, Burger King. And, once again, PA asserted it’s dominance over New Jersey. So, yeah, hell is in New Jersey, and it’s name is Hoboken. The band put on a great show tho!