RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,282
(time really flew, over all those years)
I ended up splitting my time aggressively,
it was always a toss-up. I began by driving
to Princeton each day; 21 miles, right down
Rt. One, or Rt. 27. Each of those roads, yes,
presented their own unique problems, but I
altered my arrival time in the morning to
solve any congestion driving, and pretty
much had to just take my chances with the
drive home, which usually was after 6pm,
at first. For the first, maybe, full year we
were still fine-tuning the store and its basic
set-up and initial layout, and the days were
long. in November of 2006, we had what was
called a 'soft' opening - customers were
allowed in, purchases and such took place,
but the store was not 'fully' up and running,
and each day of the initial period was more
a test case to see how things went. It was OK,
even though, being 'underneath' it all in the
basement 'Receiving' Department, we were
still at the task of first-entering inventory.
The elevator installation was another pain
in the butt - it took a long time and was
always either breaking down or failing the
town's inspection process. A professional
company was doing the installation, but
they said the Princeton process and its
Boro Inspectors were being jerks. With all
the time that went into the place, I was in
a state of confusion as to why they left the
elevator operation to last. The stairs, and
hand-carts, the boxes of books and the
deliveries were a real pain, as was the
roundabout way we had to use to bring
them in, because of the elevator not yet
working, and it took a while, too, before
trucks and deliveries were finally allowed
to use the back entrances. Out on the side
and front street, the traffic was sometimes
a problem, with the trucks, which had to
double-park and try to steal the needed
10 or 15 minutes (more like a half hour,
but there was always some dumb-ass cop
who'd come over and annoyed and allow us
'ten minutes, no more!' to get our unloading
done - like the cop even had an inkling of
what we had to do. They usually just sat
there in their patrol cars with a plate-reader
machine (they were new then, and Princeton
Boro had a test-run of them) and the pickings
along Rt. 27 were always rip for any dipshit
alimony-arrears jumper or uninsured vehicle
or any hick with a warrant out on him or her.
The scanner machine would read the plates
and start wailing whenever one of them drove
by, usually in a shitty older car anyway - so
the pickings were easy for plenty of tickets.
-
Parking was always a problem too, for using
the car. At first, until I established a good,
early morning, routine, I'd scout around a
bit. It was tricky - there were meters
everywhere, with limited time spans, and
to get to the unrestricted parking beyond
that downtown perimeter required a good
walk, which I never minded. Then they
finally began to distribute the Princeton
University parking stickers to us, a month
at a time, which was cool, but those spots
were even farther out and in a different
direction. Walking up from the Carnegie
Lake area wasn't that much fun. I did
finally find an area by the cemetery, at
the Catholic Church, down behind it,
that was the closest street in that
allowed free parking. I began using
it daily, though the people who lived
on that street were sometimes real assholes
about have the cars left there. There were
a few 'notes' left on my windshield, about
this or that, never nice, and once, by mistake
(I can't really blame the guy) at 5:30 in the
morning I mistakenly set off my car alarm.
By that evening, returning to my car, I had
a cracked windshield. I had it replaced
costing myself about 250 bucks, and swore
I'd kill the bastard who did it, but, to no
avail. So, I burned down the whole block.
(OK, just kidding). Fact of the matter is,
over time, I actually became noddingly
friendly with any number of those locals.
The local Catholic priest, an older Greek
guy named George, was often out walking
at that hour for his constitutional, and we
too became friends. He'd talk a blue streak
about most anything, and he said, 'If you
ever notice that I'm no longer walking here,
it means I'm dead.'
-
All of it, in retrospect, was fairly inconsequential.
Back in '67, I remembered, there were two movie
theaters on the main streets of the shopping area.
Only one was still existent, and I passed it most
mornings, unless I altered my walk and took
another route. The other theater, down by where
the original post office was, had been torn down
and replaced by some other eatery. Princeton
prided itself on 'notch-above' restaurants and
lounges and bar-rooms, and, I suppose, the
people willing to pay for all that. A few dive
bars were still around. The Annex, a famous
one, in fact, was right next door to Labyrinth.
Until it wasn't. Back in the 1960's, movies
were still singular. One screen, one viewing,
mostly. The trendy movies of the day, part
ideology, part movie, were usually what we
went to see, lame or not. Antonioni, and a few
other 'auteur' directors, and some of the usual
Romeo & Juliet schlock of the day too. I thought
I'd be able to remember titles, but here, already,
I can't. Blow-Up. Blow-Out. One about the
Chicago Convention riots, journalistic stuff,
some preliminary nudity, 'I Am Curious, Yellow,'
and many more, but they all escape me no.
Then we'd go to PJ's next door, and have
endless coffees and set-tos about this or that
movie issue, over midnight omelets or
simple sandwiches. I kind of miss those
days now - things were so simple, and
so black and white, as issues and ideologies
never are today. Back in those days, to
get caught in and sent to Vietnam was
considered one of life's disasters. Fight
the System, always. Nowadays, people
walk around thanking veterans on the
street for their 'service'? - which without
a draft and an enforced duration, is now
only a personal life choice, with mucho
benefits and for the supposed 'defense'
of a shithead nation with morons running
it. Who'd thank anyone for that? Not me,
certainly. I'd rather say, 'I'm so sorry for
your ruinous, mistaken, choices.'
-
I forget the actual reason, but one day,
at some point in 2007, I decided to start
taking the train instead. It ran right through
and from Metuchen, a simple early-morning
walk to the station, was cheap enough (gas
prices had become again strange and erratic).
Princeton was like 5 stops away, and one
small train switch at the end for the 'Dinky' -
the small University train service onto
campus. I began buying monthly passes,
with a savings of 12 dollars or so a month,
and settled in to a new routine. I'd bring
reading material, get a seat, watch the
light morning light grow or the evening
light wane, and just ride. I kind of did
that for the next 10 years or so, and I'd
sometimes switch off too, going back
to driving, or not. It got to the point,
through knowing the conductors and all
the rest, that on the early morning train
they'd never even take my ticket. I never
asked for any favors, but got them. I'd
bring a box of Entenmann's donuts, now
and then, to thank them. Time really flew,
over all those years, and the human mind
never really focuses on it; things occur
and transpire. The Obama years. The
2007/8 banking crash or crisis. One of the
train-riders with me was a Philadelphia
banker who traveled daily to Philly. I forget
his name now (Harold?), but he coached
me all through the banking crisis issues.
'Tranches' - bailouts, interest rates, and
all that crap. He lived in the Watchungs,
just up off Rt. 22, and would drive to
Metuchen and park for the train. There
was another lady too, from Metuchen,
who also worked in Philadelphia, for the
Public Monuments Commission, and did
the same travel. She lived down at the
end of my Metuchen block, so we'd
sometimes bump into each other and
and walk together. She had two kids and
was a nervous, jittery type about everything;
and people hadn't even yet begun tearing
down statues and monuments. That must
have really driven her crazy.
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