ThunderWeb V1.0
Sunday 8th September 2002 - Asbury Park NJ
God, it was so H-O-T!
Shit, I was drinking bottled water like it’s going out of fashion and I’m just sweating it all away.
After we got back from Suspenders, John was nearly ready to take us of to the HITS festival in Asbury Park, New Jersey. We got our gear, loaded it in the van and went via Jersey City to pick up some friends of his, before making for the Garden State Parkway and heading South. Now the last time I saw someone heading South on the GSP, Pauly Walnuts and Christopher got lost in the wilds of South Jersey, in the snow and had a battle for survival, with a mad Russian, who refused to die. No snow now though. Just blazing sunshine and unbelievable heat.
I didn’t realise just how far south, Asbury Park actually was. I thought it was just a few miles, maybe half an hour tops, but it was well over an hour’s drive. And, trust me you simply are not prepared for the sight that greets you as you enter the city.
I suppose I had some image in my mind that was a cross between Atlantic City, Blackpool and Scarborough. This was the seaside, but in America, so, better sea and sand, with all the glitz and glamour that you see in all those mob movies. You know the ones. The smart mouth guy, usually played by Joe Pesci goes off to the Jersey coast, wins big, pisses off some wiseguy and ends up in the trunk of a Cadillac Seville, gaffer-taped like a Thanksgiving Turkey, before ending up on his knees, an untraceable .38 pointing at his brain stem, falling face-first into an pre-dug grave, in a field in the middle of nowhere, shortly after the back of his head gets blown off.
Do I watch too many movies?
Anyway, Asbury Park. Sounds nice, posh, affluent, well heeled. After all, Bruce Springsteen is a big fan of the place, as is Mr Bongiovi.
Nah, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow…
Shit, I was drinking bottled water like it’s going out of fashion and I’m just sweating it all away.
After we got back from Suspenders, John was nearly ready to take us of to the HITS festival in Asbury Park, New Jersey. We got our gear, loaded it in the van and went via Jersey City to pick up some friends of his, before making for the Garden State Parkway and heading South. Now the last time I saw someone heading South on the GSP, Pauly Walnuts and Christopher got lost in the wilds of South Jersey, in the snow and had a battle for survival, with a mad Russian, who refused to die. No snow now though. Just blazing sunshine and unbelievable heat.
I didn’t realise just how far south, Asbury Park actually was. I thought it was just a few miles, maybe half an hour tops, but it was well over an hour’s drive. And, trust me you simply are not prepared for the sight that greets you as you enter the city.
I suppose I had some image in my mind that was a cross between Atlantic City, Blackpool and Scarborough. This was the seaside, but in America, so, better sea and sand, with all the glitz and glamour that you see in all those mob movies. You know the ones. The smart mouth guy, usually played by Joe Pesci goes off to the Jersey coast, wins big, pisses off some wiseguy and ends up in the trunk of a Cadillac Seville, gaffer-taped like a Thanksgiving Turkey, before ending up on his knees, an untraceable .38 pointing at his brain stem, falling face-first into an pre-dug grave, in a field in the middle of nowhere, shortly after the back of his head gets blown off.
Do I watch too many movies?
Anyway, Asbury Park. Sounds nice, posh, affluent, well heeled. After all, Bruce Springsteen is a big fan of the place, as is Mr Bongiovi.
Nah, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow…
