I Wanna Wake Up in a City That Doesn't Sleep

On nights like last night and days like today, I really miss living in NYC. And I miss the Bronx Bombers' main fan: my Grandpa Jack.

I love hearing cheers coming from all of the neighboring apartments and adjacent buildings when the Yankees score. I love hearing Frank Sinatra pouring out of the PA system at the end of a game in Yankee stadium. I love the ensuing mayhem on the streets when a World Series title is clinched. And I love me a good ticker tape parade.

Although the Yanks won the World Series championship three times while we lived there in the mid-to-late 90s, I only saw the parade once: in 1996 when I was working downtown at American Express. Thousands of us from the World Trade and World Financial Centers lined the streets but, for whatever reason, my girlfriends and I were up close-and-personal. There was so much white confetti in the sky, on the streets and covering our bodies that it looked like a blizzard. It was also really friggin' cold that year so the overall effect was a bit like New Years Rockin' Eve. So. Much. Fun.

There's nothing quite like it.

Yay Yanks!

Go! Team

I wore a Yankees cap sleeve t-shirt to church yesterday.

As I entered the sanctuary, the greeter handed me a pamphlet and jokingly stated, "We don't allow that shirt in here."

I responded, "Well, I'm not planning on taking it off."

His face turned bright red and he began stammering. Oh really, that's not what you meant? Oops. My mistake!

It's like shooting ducks in a barrel.