Yesterday was the first time in years that I was surrounded by police and forced into the back of a cop car…
The story is not very exciting, but it’s kinda funny.
It was my day off. After sleeping in until 2pm I decided that I’d run to Coney Island and go for a swim. I brought my book with me (Quo Vadis) so that when I was finished floating on my back and doing 20 minutes of butterfly I could lounge on the sand and read until the sun set. Then I’d take the subway into Manhattan, have a beer somewhere, and return home.
The shortest path to Coney Island entails crossing the Verrazano Bridge. If you remember my post, “The Verrazano Bridge…and ball sacks,” you know that I have a nerd-boner for that bridge. I was looking forward to traversing this architectural triumph despite it’s lack of a pedestrian walkway. I’ve run amongst treacherous traffic before and had no problem with jogging on the side of a busy roadway as commuting New Yorkers swore at me and angrily waved their fists. In addition, during my research on this bridge I learned that a bunch of people have committed suicide off it…so clearly there was some sort of path I could use.
I passed the tollbooths and saw the bridge straight ahead. Ah, yes, there you are Signori Verrazano…despite running at a decent clip…I was half-mast.
Out of my periphery I saw a cop car in the middle of the roadway turn its lights on and do a U-turn. “Don’t look J.W. Kash, don’t look. Stare straight ahead, run faster, and increase the volume of DMX’s Party Up In Here.”