Tuesday, March 24, 2015


About once a month for the last 5 months or so I've been driving up to Flemington, New Jersey with a U-Haul to pick up or return furniture that we've rented for a production.  There's a props house there that services the NYC area and I can browse their stuff online and it saves me a lot of time because I don't have to go all over shopping for cheap Victorian furniture or thrones or anything like that.  Unfortunately, I haven't found anyplace like this closer than Flemington, NJ, which is about three hours away. 

I've made the trip enough times now that I've got a bit of a routine:
1.  I go to the U-Haul near my house on Belair Rd.  They have a billion trucks there and are very nice, although I always feel like they suspect me of being up to illegal, immoral, or nefarious shenanigans when I tell them I'm going to be going an estimated 350 miles.

2.  I load the truck at the theater (if I'm returning furniture).

3.  I get on 95 and point myself Northward.

4.  I turn on the danciest bubblegum pop radio station I can find (104.3 near Baltimore and 106.1 when I cross the Susquehenna and am closer to Philly) and I listen to it all fucking day.  I am gauranteed to hear Taylor Swift, Maroon 5, and Rihanna at least 6 times each.

5.  I stop at McDonalds for breakfast. If they have any sort of BOGO breakfast sandwich deal I go hog wild.

6.  I keep listening to that dance music and hours of those terrible pop radio commercials until my brain liquifies and slips right out of my head and onto the floor of the U-Haul. 

7.  At Exit 2 in NJ I head West on some lovely little semi-rural backroads that make you understand why it's called the Garden State. 

8.  I reach Flemington - which is a little bit of a quesy mixture of charming historical old town and sprawly strip mall suburbia - get to the props house, and unload (or load) the truck.  (One of the people that works there looks exactly like Mario from Super Mario Bros.)

9.  I turn the truck around and point it South and Eastward. 

10.  I get back on 95 as quick as I fucking can. 

11.  I stop at a gas station (somewhere south of the NJ/Pennsylvania line, but north of Philadelphia) to pee, get a Gatorade and a small bag of Doritos.

12.  I contemplate stopping at every damned casino I see (Parx in Philly, Delaware Park [or something like that] and Hollywood casino in Delaware) but I never do. 

13.  I get back to the Baltimore area and unload the truck at the theater if it (the truck) is loaded, if it ain't I just return the truck to the U-Haul on Belair Rd. near my house.

14.  I go home.


1.  The Susquehenna River is really beautiful and I always enjoy driving over it.

2.  The area just south of Philadelphia looks like something from an old movie where the future is presented as polution-y and dystopian and terrible.  (Sections of Baltimore also look like this)

3.  I prefer my bubblegum pop to be sung by women.  Although, and I'm embarrassed to admit this, I have gone from hating Maroon 5 intensely to actually sort of enjoying some of their songs. 

Anyway, the reason this is all in my head is because I made the trip yesterday to return all the furniture rented for Vanya and Earnest.

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