Tattoos, vending machines and what state are we in?

This is a three parter folks. Just some observations of the weird things I come across (Or seem to find me) in The "Real World".

Act One: So there's this dude hanging in front of The Bleecker Street Bar wearing a wife beater. As he's rambling about some dude who he met the night before and told him about the bar (Justin?????) two women approach the front door. One of the ladies was wearing a Dallas Cowboys hat. The guy notices and proceeds to talk smack about how the Giants won the Superbowl, beat The Cowboys yada yada yada.

Then he flexes his arm to show us his tattoo. I noticed that he had the Giants "NY" symbol on his arm. Not too weird of a tattoo. But here comes the weirdness. Underneath the tattoo is an autograph: #10 Eli Manning. With pride he points to it and says (more like slurs): I saw Eli at a lounge and when he saw my tattoo he signed my arm. I ran 1000 miles to my local inkshop and had it put on my arm permanently. As tempted as I was to take a picture of it I didn't want him being more of a distraction than he already was. So I let him walk off into the distance regaling anyone who cared to listen to his ramblings.

Wow, THAT'S loyalty to your team. Guess he falls into the definition of what makes a fan. He actually belongs in his own league. Wow, that's all I have to say about that.

Part Duex: This past Wednesday I took the family for a fun filled day to Coney Island. We visited the Aquarium, hung on the beach and the kids got on the rides at Astroland.So as we're leaving the boardwalk towards Nathans, I notice these pairs of vending machines. As I walk by them, I take a double take. The machines vend Kosher Hot Dogs. As it is, a hot dog vending machine is not something that I see everyday, especially down the block from Nathans. The franks were not even Nathans doggies. What are people thinking, a vending machine that spits out no name franks up the block from Nathans. The nerve.

As tempted as I was to put my 3 buckaronies into the machine to see how it operated, my better judgment reminded me that 2 chili and sauteed onion frankfurters were calling my name at Nathans. Thank you better judgment.

Tercera parte (part three for you monolinguals out there).This guy walks into the bar a couple of Monday nights ago while its pouring rain and immediately I realize that he's hammered (Surprise). When I tell him that I wouldn't be letting him in, he's astonished (Surprise again) that I won't let him in. He goes on to tell me that this is f'd up since he was in the Army.

I thank him for his service but still not let him in. Not very different than any other situation where I don't let someone in. But here is where things get weird. He goes on to tell me that being in Pennsylvania is f'd up. He says he's from NYC and that we need to go to NYC to learn to have fun. Then he storms out.

Harper (the Bartender) looks at me and asks me if he heard correctly. I nod. I've known for people to be in altered states while drunk and/or high but this is the 1st time I've encountered someone so out of it that they thought that they were in a totally different State of the Union. Ouch!

Hasta the next time,
FHJ