Two Wilson Sasha Puppies and two Wilson Sasha WATTs, wrapped up and nestled into a Land Cruiser, ready for the long drive from Art Dudley’s Cherry Valley farm to John Atkinson’s Bay Ridge castle.
At about 12:30 on Sunday afternoon, we said goodbye to the beautiful blue-haired girls, Michel Plante, Sarah Tremblay, and all of the smiling faces at
Salon Son & Image. It had been a wonderful show, but now it was time to move on to other things. We piled into the Land Cruiser, John Atkinson in the driver’s seat, Art Dudley riding shotgun, and me in the back. I spent much of the ride marveling at the cold, rocky landscapes connecting Canada to New York.
On Saturday evening, the final night of the show, I had enjoyed a memorable meal at Montreal’s lovely restaurant, Le Caveau: An exquisite vegetable soup followed by an entre of shrimp and scallops and finally a mind-blowing slice of maple pie. Life doesn’t get much better.
On Monday morning, at Art’s home in Cherry Valley, I was knee-deep in bunny shit, bracing myself against certain humiliation and probably pain, a Wilson Sasha loudspeaker branding its large footprint into my chest as we attempted to maneuver the 200-lb Puppy from a dangerously rocky path. We would only have to carry the beast for ten or so steps, from Art’s front door to the back door of JA’s truck. We would make it, but not without some huffing and puffing, and not without some mud stains. Life is funny.
On Sunday evening, under light rain, I blew kisses at the Baseball Hall of Fame, before following John, Art, and Art's family into the warm walls of Alex & Ika, a charming and delightful bistro on Main Street in Cooperstown. The penne with Spanish chorizo and sage caper marinara was outstanding, and so was the wine, and so was the company, and so were the laughs.
On Monday evening, at about 9:30, after having sat in rush-hour traffic outside the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, and after stopping in Bay Ridge to help heave the Wilson loudspeakers up the five steps into JA’s dining room, and after missing the express train, and after reacquainting myself with New York City women, and after getting out at City Hall and walking the few blocks to the World Trade Center and feeling unexpected things as the PATH train approached and propelling myself into the cool night and finally breathing in that Jersey City sky, illuminated as it was by street lamps and other things, and after everything else, wonderful as it was, it felt so good to be home.
