Impromptu Easter Action

Er, yeah. About that big fat delay...sorry.

So we headed up to Kurt’s place on Sunday for Easter. Kurt lives in Milton, NY, about two hours north of the city. Which was awesome, because we hadn’t really thought about what we were gonna do for Easter. So it was nice to be reminded that it's a good day to get together with some of the people that make you laugh the hardest.

We decided to take the train, because we found out that we could take the bean with us, sans carrier.

We got to Grand Central via insane, hair-raising cab ride (I'm starting to think "drive like a dickhead" is box you have to check on NYC cabdriver applications), and remembered that it was Easter Sunday as soon as we stepped into the train station. Complete animal show. So Crissy jumped in line for tickets while Fran and I secured seats on the fast-filling train.

The train ride was actually nice and relaxed. I read 4 pages of the massive book I’m trying to impress people by reading before falling asleep. The missus and Fran stood guard.

Kurt picked us up at the train station, and zipped us up to his house, where the mutt could run free in his backyard, complete with actual grass and actual dirt. Let me tell you, that dog freaked out like an eighth-grader on meth. That’s the nice thing about city dogs. They don't get all spoiled on “nature."

The real fun started when Kurt’s brother got there with his kids. 3 Little grubby kids + crackloads of Easter candy + 1 Methed-out puppy = crazy fun. I gotta say, it's pretty nice to be able to play with kids, get 'em all riled up, and then go home. Those little boogers wear you OUT. My nap on the train ride home was criminally good.

For lunch/dinner, Kurt whipped up some incredible barbecue, causing me to pile food so high on my plate that Kurt’s 6’5”, 240 pound brother looked at it and said, “Five bucks you don't finish that plate.” It was my manly duty to win the bet. Though I'm not proud to admit I had to sneak a chunk of steak to the missus to get it done.

After lunch/dinner, we sucked back wine and rammed strawberry shortcake and ice cream down our throats until there was food under our eyelids, and decided to hit the rails.

The train was an even worse sardine-can on the way home. I, of course, slept my ass off, next to a blacked out Franny, who dreamt she was standing open-mouthed at the end of a dirt and stick conveyer belt.

On our face-ripplingly fast cab ride back from Grand Central, Crissy gritted out the words, “sir…we’re…not…in…that big of a hurry.” To my amazement, the dude actually apologized and slowed down. Which both shocked me, and made me happier to have been alive to enjoy a damn good Easter Sunday.

Please enjoy this picture of an awkward Franny with the pet store Easter bunny. Yes, we are those people now.