From Hoboken411:
“10/1/2008 7:40am Update:
…According to the Hoboken411 live police and fire radio – that this fire incident has now officially been declared ‘a crime scene.’
10/1/2008 4:50am Update:
A pretty substantial fire happened in the area of about 1206 Hudson Street (Not sure if it was 1204 or 1208 or 1202). This was right behind where the 1203 Washington Street fire took place earlier in the year. Started on the top floor.
Fire was winding down when I left – however, that doesn’t rule out the possibility of the always-feared fire creep.
10/1/2008 3:47am:
There’s an active fire going on somewhere uptown… going to check it out now… Sounds like it’s semi-serious.”
Gay lovers quarreling and crystal meth do not mix. I learned that the hard way. Yeah, they might claim it was a lamp that was accidentally knocked over onto the plastic covering of a mattress while “two men” were trying to turn it on, but what they failed to mention was those two men were trying to turn on each other while a third man, upset by the fact his man was engaged in relations with another man, tried to kill both of them. How can such a tripod triangle turn into such disaster? Simple: Add just a skosh of crystal meth. THAT is the official story, folks. See below for more details…
At approximately 3:40am last Wednesday morning (10/1), my roommate barged into my room and yelled, “Neal! There’s a fire in the building! We gotta go!” After I realized I wasn’t having just another night terror, I threw on some mesh shorts, a shirt, and my thinking cap. You see, I had a choice to make. A big choice, one that could alter my life forever. Even pro-choicers are like, “Ooo, yeah, stayin’ away from that one.” My thinking cap worked overtime that night in those 3-5 seconds as I looked back and forth, staring at my two options: Sandals or Sneakers.
Sandals…
or
Sneakers…
The weather was still warm enough to pull off sandals. Sandals and I have had our differences. There was a long stretch where I didn’t wear sandals at all. I’d visit my cousins, aunts, and uncles at the Jersey Shore and I’d rock the socks and sneakers. Because of my fashion faux pas, I got lumped in with the other inlanders and was called a, “Benny.” Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, New York. It’s shore code for someone from North Jersey who doesn’t belong. At the time, I was from Central Jersey, but I guess when you live at the shore, all other geography becomes moot.
I eventually warmed up to sandals in ’03-’04. I got sick of wearing socks – and my tootsies were thankful.
TOOTSIES: “Dude. Dude! Can’t thank you enough for the air. The breeze feels, well, delightful.”
ME: “You guys are still super ugly, though.”
TOOTSIES: “Well, if someone hadn’t decided to wear socks 23 years straight, maybe we could’ve got some goddam sunlight and not resembled the Infected from I Am Legend.”
Weird that even in 2003, my toes knew about a Will Smith blockbuster set to release in ’07.
Anyway, me and sneakers have been tight, son. I’ve had the pair I’m wearing now since Thanksgiving 2007. Wow. I’m real impressed. I hear you say as you roll those beady lil’ eyes of yours. If you’ve seen these bad boys, you woulda thunk I’d 🎶 been through the mountains and seen all the oceans 🎶. I’ve star trekked everywhere in these pups and they’ve managed to keep it together.
I can’t say as much for my sandals. Dem sh*ts break down every summer, just when I need them most. I mean, Christ, sandals get a break for 8-9 f’n months, then bust a thong each July. They’re like Moises Alou.
So here I am, 3:41am on a Wednesday morning with a blazing inferno breathing down my neck and I’m left with this decision: Gool Ol’ Veteran Standby (sneaks) or Larry Newcomer Letdown (sandies). Before I end this rollercoaster ride of suspense, let me just state for the record that sandal manufacturers need to look into making STYLISH sandals you can run in. I know Tevas exist, but if you’ve seen the Birdman around campus, you know Tevas make a man look like he’s on a retreat with his fellow NAMBLA cohorts.
I chose sneakers.
Neal Lynch 