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The past few times I’ve been in New York, I’ve been tempted by the idea of jumping on the southbound New Jersey Turnpike and driving Interstate 95 to its southern terminus in Miami. Though the drive to Miami is only marginally shorter from New York than it is from Chicago, New York and Miami share the same highway (I-95) and ocean (Atlantic). This is the same (gratuitously flawed) logic that gave birth to a road trip from LA to Vancouver the weekend following the 2004 presidential election.
I spent the first week of this month in New York: ADC Review, studio tours, friends, bike riding and non-ironic dining. My car even got to play victim in a hit-and-run on a deserted side street in Queens. A good time, sans the fact that it rained for 90 percent of the week.
This is us on the Williamsburg Bridge.
When school gives you a free hotel room in Chelsea, you invite not only your teacher to the party, but all your friends in Brooklyn.
On Friday May 8th, I ate my traditional leaving New York meal (number 6 at Wendy’s plus an extra hamburger) in Maryland instead of New Jersey. Later that night I ate a Banana and some cereal bars in the humid-subtropical parking lot of a southern North Carolina twenty four hour supermarket. Noon on Saturday I ate a Cuban sandwich 100 yards from the beach at Bal Harbour Shops in Miami.
Stuck in traffic on the Williamsburg bridge on our way to the Holland Tunnel on our way to the NJT on our way to Miami.
Sometimes Jerome drives.
This is on the border of North and South Carolina.
As always, Miami was ridiculous: Beach, hot tub, pool, Chicago, The Standard, The White Room, and Pollo Tropical. Juan played host and played it well.
The drive back to Chicago was non-stop and to the point, short of an hour break in Atlanta to indulge in some twenty four hour diner food with a few friends.
I made it back to Chicago less than twenty four hours before Industry Night, which went really well. I talked to quite a few people and got a lot more feedback than at the ADC Review. I woke up sick on Friday, but still made it to Manifest and the graduation party at the Hilton that night. Slept in on Saturday instead of walking at graduation, but that was pretty much the plan anyways.
Downtown Miami is so strange.
Beach, then hot tub, then pool. Everyday.
Juan bought a three hundred dollar moped that occasionally runs long enough to make it to South Beach.
Rick Ross couldn’t make it to the photo shoot.
Reststop on Alligator Alley.
Tonight I’m sending in an application to take part in a paid NYC-LA bike ride from June-August. $3000 plus $25/day and $800 for transportation to NYC and from LA to ride my bike across the country with 41 other people and blog about it (it’s part of an ad campaign for a vodka company). Sign me up.