I love Thursday nights, when the plane finally touches down at EWR. There's work to be done on Friday, but Thursday nights, no matter the Air Traffic Control delays, I am home. I love standing outside the terminal and breathing the warm port air, I love the local car service in Hoboken that knows my voice on the phone and is always waiting to get me home.
And I love the city lights coming into view as we speed down the 1&9 towards the Holland Tunnel. That is the best part of my week.
I'm not ashamed to say I love getting into Hoboken and cruising the streets towards home, especially on those nights when we're not getting there too late. I love it for the same reason I've loved this crazy little town ever since I first moved here - you can not get home without seeing pretty girls who are also trying to get home, or to the next bar, or what have you. Its just nice living here with them.
But damn, do I hate Friday nights.
Most of them, at least lately, I've had to work late, and then I order in and fatigue takes over and all of a sudden its mid-Saturday morning. Before that, when I was slightly less crazy, I'd wrap up late in the afternoon and head into the city to plan Sunday's lesson with Cregan at the church offices. Then maybe I'd hit the movies with Dave or meet a friend out for dinner.
But every once in a while I get roped into something in Hoboken on a Friday night. Tonight it was Matt's wedding rehearsal and the ensuing dinner. Rehearsal went smooth, then we were down to the waterfront for a nice dinner, and then it happened. Snuck up on me without a forethought, it did - my first walk home through the streets of the Bo on a Friday night in months untold.
And every one of those pretty girls is out with her boy. No one is single in this town on Friday nights. Cute couples on the river walk. Drunk ones on the main strip. Trendy ones having dinner at the nice restaurants. Cancerous ones having smokes on their stoops. Walking out, walking home, going shopping, coming home from work, out for a run, hopping in the car, they are just freaking everywhere.
A million reminders of how. alone. you. really. are.
I don't doubt the existence of infinite love and grace. Its just sometimes I think God maybe is capable of hating me in some cosmically simultaneous way.
Disclaimers: 1. Formalities: This is a personal web-log. The opinions and information provided on this page are the sole responsibility of the author. These opinions do not represent the official statements or views of his employer, nor do they represent the views of any institution, corporation, or other organization. This blog and all its contents, in each of its parts and as a whole are copyright David Knowles, Jr., 2009. 2. Frivolities: This is a personal web-log. I'm relearning some HTML. Something not working? Shout out. Idea for improvement? Please provide. Surging, irresistible need to confess your undying love for the Dave? You may proceed.
"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."