An Industrial Park

Alright, so I was wandering, but now it was time to give John a call. The plan was for him to pick me up and drive me over to the Brooklyn Navy Yard where DeVore Fidelity lives.

"Good morning, John. This is Stephen. How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Very well. It's a gorgeous day. I've just been wandering around for a bit, admiring this place."

"Oh, you're in DUMBO?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll be over in a few minutes to pick you up."

"Great. I'll be right outside of Pedro's Spanish American Restaurant."

"The place on the corner of Front and Jay?"

"Yup."

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit."

About ten minutes later, John roared down the street in his great, old Subaru hatchback. "It's got a hole in the muffler," John explained. "I'm going to take it to the shop today." In scuffed work boots, faded Levi's, and a checkered flannel topped by an army green sweater, neat but frayed at the edges from work and play — classic, functional, and handsome — John shook my hand and gave me a little tour of the beautiful Navy Yard. The very definition of an "Industrial Park," the Navy Yard sprawls out along 300 acres of Brooklyn waterfront and holds over 40 gorgeous, rough, soulful buildings of glass, steel, and red brick. With more than 4500 workers occupying its 3.5 million square feet of work space, the Brooklyn Navy Yard is home to four fully-functioning dry docks, five active piers, many colossal robots, monsters, and cranes, several movie studios, furniture makers, architects, painters, photographers, musicians, ship repairers, jewelers, all kinds of echoes, ghosts, and histories, and a loudspeaker designer.

"This place is awesome."

"Yeah," John said, "It's a pretty fun place to work."