On behalf of The Diatribe, I would like to send (belated) birthday greetings to Captain Larby. Cap’n, I wish I could have been on board to see you walk the plank into the Sea of Thirty. If you and Matty Ballgame (even more belated happy birthday greetings) can tread water for just a little while longer, you’ll be joined by all the rest of us soon enough.
So after a last-minute trip this past weekend, I flew back into Newark airport late last night and opted to take a cab home. When the cab first pulled up, I thought I was in luck, because it looked like one of those newer yellow cabs and the driver wasn’t talking on his phone (always a plus).
I get in the back seat of the car, and notice that the interior is the complete opposite from the exterior. The front dashboard is falling apart, and there’s a strong odor of unpleasant cologne eminatng from the driver’s area. It was then that I realized that all the windows were all the way down and for a good reason — the heat was BLARING. It didn’t look like the temperature controls were set that way, so I think there was something wrong with the cab.
As we pull away from the cab stand, it was nice to get some breeze into the back seat… I tried to keep my head towards the open window, as not to be assaulted by the hot air streaming through the two front seats into the back.
As we hit the highway, I started to notice another unpleasant smell — this time coming from outside. It must’ve been Newark, Elizabeth or just a general “Jersey Odor.” We’re coming across the Pulaski bridge, and I noticed the smell change several times — none of which were the even remotely resemblant of cookies, apple/cinnamon or Ng Champa. I had a choice, move away from the windows to avoid the Jersey smells or be faced with cologne man and his heat wave. I opted for the former, because at least the breeze felt good.
But, I realized that this was the smell of “home.” It wasn’t the comforting smell of baked bread or anything, but it was the scent of “my state.” Needless to say, this thought did not put me at ease. The only positive thought I had was that I would soon be in Hoboken.. free from the industrial wasteland of the Newark Area.
It’s good to be home.