Yesterday couldn’t have been better. After waking up bright and early in my new bed, I traveled down to South Brooklyn to spend the day on The Little Prince.
The weatherman predicted thunderstorms for the duration of the day but all I felt were the rays of sunlight splashing on my face as we cast the boat out into the mighty Atlantic. I was handed a fishing pole and a beer at 10 a.m. and the rest of the day was a complete route.
I managed to catch two fish. After asking a shipmate what I had caught I was simply told ‘a five thousand dollar fine.’
Needless to say I laughed my ass off at the response. Apparently it isn’t fluke season in New York. Andrew played around with a shark and the “Sangre del Sharko” stained the bow.
Following the boating excursion I found myself at Il Fornetto. After a cup of coffee I attempted to learn how to bet on the ponies but ended up watching the other patrons.
A couple scanned a racing daily and placed bets using money from their pension. “I told you to bet on the five horse. You always switch out one of my horses. Listen to me when I tell you something.” The woman would bellow at her frail husband. He wore thick frames and I don’t think he could read the tiny newsprint that well. I didn’t notice a hearing aid but I’m sure he chose to ignore his wife a long time ago.
A group of Greeks sat around a round table. Some of the men would occasionally slam their fists down when a long shot horse pulled ahead to spoil their trifecta. A glass shattered after a losing race at Belmont Downs.
A chubby Italian sang Paolo Conte tunes while he kicked back his gin and tonic. He was watching baseball, not the races.
A man, at least 60 years of age, waltzed in with a young girl and took a seat across from our table. I was curious to know her age, Andrew and I concluded she had to be no more than 19. She placed some bets while he slurped his soup. The man was not her father.
