P: Track Workouts, Biking, and Rock Climbing = Exhaustion!

So after a long, simultaneously exhausting-relaxing weekend of watching the Mets get clobbered by the Dodgers, then chasing my terrible-twos-phasing nephew on a Long Island beach front, while catching porgies with my brother and dad, I returned to Boston to get crackin along on my novel. Nothing too interesting to report, besides the fact that I met an interesting character on my Fung Wah bus ride back up to Boston Sun evening. I met this man named--that's right--Chef Cra*g (the asterisk is supposed to be an "i", but i don't want him to google himself and find our blog!). He went on about how he was a chef with the schools (which, of course, made me think of Chef from South Park), and he went on about how he was trained in many different styles of cooking, so he was earning "good money," and blah blah blah. He seemed nice enough, but the fact that I smiled at him when I sat down seemed to be his invitation to talk my ear off and to tell me all about these business ventures of cookery he was being offered. The only reason WHY I smiled at him was because when I boarded the bus, the whole bus was packed except for the seat next to him, and then seats way in the back. And all of the people in front of me kept glancing down at him and then continuing to move further t othe back of the bus. I felt badly. Was it racism? Probably. I mean, this guy was pretty jacked and he looked clean and stuff. But he was also the only non-White or non-Chinese or non-Asian person on the bus. So that's why I smiled at him when I sat down, because I felt guilty otherwise.

So I'm kind of politely smiling and giving vaguely terse answers to his questions, and then he said, "If you ever want to go out to eat sometime in Boston..." and he handed me his business card. The card was black, with white loopy script that said, "Chef Cr.a.*g." For realz.

Some interesting characters to be met on the Chinatown bus. So it goes! Back to the thesis.