Thursday night I took the N train underneath the East River to celebrate Duane's birthday at a fine Greek establishment in Queens. Duane served his mission in Greece and has done his due diligence on Astoria Greek restaurants so I know what we had was good.
Lots of dear people were in attendance to honor Duane.
No Pictures! No Pictures!
The cake! Happy Birthday to Duane! Thanks for being so awesome!
One of the candles was musical, but you had to hold it close to your ear to hear its song. I'm not kidding, that's what's really happening here.
Friday night I took the PATH train beneath the Hudson to help rescue Brittany's bicycle from Newark. What? Don't worry, there's a complicated explanation. Brittany spent the summer in Denmark and had a bicycle when she was there, but she could not take it home with her. Cheryl was in Copenhagen recently (because she can go wherever she wants whenever she wants) and picked up Brittany's bike for her and took it to her crash pad in Newark. Brittany was up from DC on Friday and, so, yes, a trip to Newark was taken to get that bicycle!
Cheryl met up with us at Newark Penn Station and we went and had some "Brazilian" food in the Ironbound (that's the name of a neighborhood in Newark, you uneducated animal). Brittany served her mission in Brazil, but I didn't need her help to know that what we were eating wasn't exactly Brazilian. The chicken hearts I ate were definitely prepared in the Portuguese style, that I am sure of.
Then it was over to the crash pad to get the bicycle. Yes, this is a bicycle. A bicycle prepared for travel and prepared to entertain the drunks on the PATH train. As you can see, its airplane-suitable protective packaging sort of eliminated the most bicycleish elements of the vehicle. It turns out that a bike that does not roll is actually a fairly cumbersome thing to lug about. Not that I couldn't handle it. Excuse me. Not that we couldn't handle it.