Meeting Marcia in Morristown

             About a year ago when I first begun the ZEIsSIT World blog, one of my first entries was regarding my opinion that the greatest singer ever is Johnny Mathis. Many months later I happened to receive an email from someone who happened to agree with me, so I know I'm correct about my greatest singer-ever assessment, and this person also included a link to an article written about her which I found amazing. Her name is Marcia, and although she was born blind, through specialized schooling for the blind and with help from a software called Dolphin Guide, she has managed to become an emailing guru. In addition, she has to be about the biggest Johnny Mathis fan in the world with having attending thousands (no exaggeration) of his concerts over the years as well as had the fortune of meeting him six times!!

             Luckily she was able to come upon my blog entry and she was excited to find a fellow fan enough that she emailed me. We planned on meeting in person at a future concert and originally selected one scheduled in August at the Capital One Bank Theater in Westbury, but unfortunately Mathis had to cancel most of his concerts for hip surgery, which meant Marcia and I had to put off meeting until a later date. Months after his recovery, new dates were confirmed and we re-scheduled meeting at a show that was going to take place at the Mayo Performance Arts Center in Morristown, New Jersey. Mathis was going to play two nights in a row, and of course as a super-fan Marcia was going to both, but I was just going to the first show. Also as a super-fan and since she purchased her tickets well in advance (her excitement never wanes) she was sitting up front by the stage while I would be many rows back. Once we were all set we shared a few more emails to make sure we would be able to meet up, and we were very excited to finally be able to attend a show together. Marcia was going with her friend Billie while I had to make the drive by myself all the way out to Jersey.

             On the Google map Morristown was listed as only an hour away from the Bronx, but as usual Google takes no account of the Cross Bronx Expressway and one of the other highways I had to take, I-80 West, as both were crawling the whole way. In the end it took about a hour and forty minutes finally reach the area. I've been on a bad string of getting lost lately and this Morristown trip was having bad news written all over it. It seemed once I got off the highway, everything seemed dark and the street signs were difficult to read. As I started to worry, all of a sudden I found myself driving on South Street were there were lots of stores and I happened to pass by what looked like a theater with many people entering, so I figured that had to be the place. I turned around and passed by again and felt more confidant that I had finally found my destination. I was able to find parking three blocks away and walked up to the front of the theater to make sure there was some mention of the Mathis concert, and there was. Had I come earlier, Marcia, Billie, and I were going to get something to eat before the show, but since I was stuck in traffic for a while, we had to wait to meet at the theater. We arranged to meet the souvenir stand and the three of us chatting it up for a while before the show started. Marcia had a custom-made sweatshirt with photo imprint taken with her and one of her other friends, and standing in the middle was none other than Johnny Mathis. Billie didn't have a custom sweatshirt, but she was carrying a picture she had taken with Mathis a couple of years ago. I wished I had cool pictures like that to show them, but closest I got was shaking Mathis' hand in a concert last year, never had a chance to meet him.

             About ten minutes before showtime we decided to head for our seats and the theater was nearly packed, except for a few rows towards the very back and a couple of random single seats here and there. This was going to be my sixth Mathis show, only nine hundred ninety-nine behind Marcia, and the format was similar to the previous five. He came out on stage a few minutes after 8pm to a big applause, which was a little longer than usual because this was one of his first shows back since the hip surgery, and then went into his first song. Most performers at concerts like to be chatty in between songs and tell stories, not Mathis. Except for a couple sentences after his first song, he basically likes to crank out the songs one after another with very minimum interruption. He breaks up his shows in two acts. The first part is usually his signature hits such as "Chances Are", "Twelve of Never", "Misty", "It's Not for Me to Say", "A Certain Smile", plus selected musical pieces from Henry Mancini such as "Moon River". After that a stand-up comedian, usually Gary Mule Deer, comes out for a twenty-minute bit, then there's a fifteen minute intermission. I went back out to the souvenir stand to see if I could meet up with Marcia and Billie again for a few minutes, but for some reason they didn't show up, so I was hoping we would be able to catch each other after the show.

             When I arrived back at my seat I saw a lady in front of me had a photo album of Johnny Mathis pictures that it looked like she had been collecting over the past forty years. In fact, on the inside cover, it too looked like she had the chance to meet and have a picture taken with him. With Marcia, Billie, and now this other lady, I was really behind. I scanned my eyes around other fans in their seats and I noticed some more had photos albums, some brought in old vinyl records, people were holding these items in their hands like they were gold. A different lady in the row ahead of me was telling stories how her and her husband used to dance to alot of these Mathis songs (it seemed like the husband isn't alive anymore). I was trying to figure out why has everyone followed this singer and these songs for close to sixty years? Plus, how was I able to get drawn in and become a fan? For whatever contemporary musical acts that are being produced today, are fans going to flock to see them even twenty years from now? Most likely not, and certainly not fifty years down the road. Much like the feeling of attending an antique toy show; it seems toys used to be made out of die-cast metal so they would last for decades, now toys are made out of plastic and snap into pieces after fifteen minutes. Whatever the reasons are, groups like the Rolling Stones or single-acts like Johnny Mathis are limited natural resources and should be appreciated while they're around. Instead of long-lasting music, people these days are more concerned with having an electrical socket nearby to charge up their overpriced gadgets.

             The lights dimmed again for the second half of the show and I realized Mathis had changed into a pair of white shoes. As usual with his second-half openers these days, he started things off with "Pure Imagination", then went into his cover of "You Make Me Feel Brand New". From his latest album, and the first time I ever heard him perform it, he surprised the audience by singing "Shenandoah", which turned out to delight Marcia very much. Towards the end of a Mathis show he usually takes out a couple of stools and sits next to his long-time guitarist Gil Rogers for a few tunes. They covered the Beatles classic "Yesterday", then went into Mathis standards "99 Miles to L.A." and "Brazil" to wrap up the show. Mathis came out for one more song as an encore, and then accepted a few bouquets of flowers among the standing ovation as he left the stage for good for the night. I caught up with Marcia and Billie on the way out and Marcia was completely blown away as if it was her first Mathis show. With everyone shuffling out of the theater we couldn't stay much to talk there, so we decided to look for a place to have a cup of coffee and talk more Mathis. Just down the block there was a Strawberry Fields Frozen Yogurt shop that has tables inside we would be able to sit at. With a Beatles them inside of pictures and photos from the 60's, Strawberry Fields has a dozen of different yogurt flavors you pump yourself and they charge you by the weight of your cup. I tried pomegranate and had a cup of coffee with that, Marcia just had a cup of coffee, Billie didn't feel like having anything.

             We discussed the show we all just attended, and of course nobody had any complains. Then Marcia peeled off some of the many Mathis-related stories she had in her vault, and Billie chimed in as well with her experiences. Marcia is a walking-encyclopedia of musical acts, although Mathis is her #1, she's been to Elvis concerts, she met Smokey Robinson, I think she has about everyone from the Golden Era of music covered. We were talking and talking and time seemed to fly by fast to the point the store workers had to tell us we needed to go because they were about to close up. We asked the cashier to take a group picture of us so we would have something to remember from that night, with hopes of all meeting again at another Johnny Mathis concert in the future. Once Marcia and Billie were safely off into a cab, I headed back to my car for the drive back to the Bronx. Once I turned on the car I saw my gas tank only had one bar left until it was going to be empty. I was in the main part of town and probably would've found a gas station, but I didn't feel like going on a wild goose chase and possibly getting lost late at night in the dark, so I stuck with the directions and took the highway. I remember on I-80 seeing a few gas stations on the side of the highway, so I figured if I get into an emergency, I'll just gas up over there. I kept the speed to about 50 mph so I wouldn't burn up my gas too quickly, and eventually did see the gas station on the side of the highway, but I didn't exit. The thing with Jersey is you can't pump your own gas, plus I really didn't have cash on me. So if I did use a New Jersey gas station, I would have to hand some unknown attendant my card, plus give them a cash tip (which actually makes the gas price is higher than advertised). I decided to keep on driving with the gas tank signal pointing to Empty with hopes I could at least make it into the Bronx.

             As I crossed over the George Washington Bridge I had visions of the car just dying out, so I kept in the right lane in case such as thing would happen. The first exit I came upon which looked like a good chance I would get gas was Jerome Avenue. As soon as I got off the exit it was a madhouse with two police vans flashing their lights for absolutely no reason. Cabs were flying all over, cars were honking horns, all I wanted was a little gas to get me home. There was a Sunoco gas station to the left of the exit I got off of, so I needed to make a U-turn and head left. Due the lateness of the hour, the location near a highway exit, and the dense street traffic, by the time I reached this gas station, filled up, and was on my way back on the Cross Bronx Expressway, at least thirty minutes went by. Since I had traffic going to the concert and didn't have an opportunity to eat, plus can't really consider frozen yogurt a meal, my stomach was finally growling for dinner. Before going home, I decided to stop off at a diner that's usually open all night. It was extremely too early for breakfast, but I wasn't looking for anything heavy or overly greasy, so I went with a belgian waffle with beef sausage. I was so hungry I think I crammed it all down in less than eight minutes. The anxiety of driving home on one cup of gasoline really tired me out and I was ready for bed. It was some night!!

             That's what happens when you declare someone the greatest singer ever........

Whatever that Stands for

            With heat temperatures predicting to reach near 95 degrees during the middle of the week, I wanted to escape the city and find a place that has one gigantic air conditioner I can stay inside with. The only logical conclusion I came to was a casino, specifically Atlantic City. I enjoyed my time in Seaside Heights a couple of weeks ago, so tossing in more South Jersey boardwalk and beach, Atlantic City was the perfect bet.

             It was already hot and humid by the time I started my drive, and things were only looking better when the Cross Bronx was looking like drive-in movie with rows and rows and trucks and cars standing still. In no way was this going to be the breeze-through cruise I had on the Fourth of July going to Seaside Heights when all the roads were practically empty. It was so bad it actually took me a half hour to complete the step of entering the highway from the entrance ramp. Traffic moved at a snail’s pace and about an hour later I saw debris spread out all over the pavement and two cars anchored on the side of the road with a police vehicle. I’m not sure what happened, but that incident and the construction work being done on the Alexander Hamilton Bridge, just before the George Washington Bridge, wasn’t letting me get down to AC fast enough. Once I was past all that on onto the NJ Turnpike, the traffic flow was much better, although densely populated. It took about three and a half hours to finally make it down to Atlantic City and I had run out of quarters from the million toll booths along the Garden State Parkway. The streets along where the casinos are located were the inspiration for the board game Monopoly. When entering the area you’ll likely find yourself on Ventor Ave and then you make a left turn on either Pacific or Atlantic Ave., but there’s no B&O Railroad to be seen. When I go down to Atlantic City I almost always stay at the Tropicana because it offers a pleasant modern setting for some of the lowest rates in town. I’m on the Tropicana email list and I see when they have great deals available, and this time they were offering a weekday stay special for only $69 per night. I was only going to do one night.

             When I was checking in with use of my debit card, they have a new policy of a $50 deposit which is then refunded back to you after ten business days. I never had this before at the Tropicana and have no idea why they started that rule, but since I was to get the money back (hopefully), I paid it no mind. The rooms at the Tropicana are decorated with a seashore theme and there are pictures on the wall of vacationers enjoying Atlantic City back from the early part of last century. The only blemish in the room I had was the mini-fridge. Upon a closer look someone had dented the door with either a fist or some other type of blunt instrument, and then carved in the initials N.G., whatever that stands for. If I arrived earlier, I would’ve headed immediately for the beach, but it was already late in the afternoon thanks to the Cross Bronx Expressway. Instead, I went down to the casino floor to see some of the action. As soon as you walk in you smell the stench of cigarettes and cheap carpet cleanser; the scent of money being lost. The only games I dabble in is either blackjack or roulette. I saw there was an open spot at one of the roulette tables so I took a walk over. The poor economy perception certainly reached the casino because the minimum bet (during weekday daytime hours) for the roulette wheel was only a measly five dollars. When I first visited the Tropicana back in 2007 before the “recession”, the minimum bet was three times as much. I really didn’t come down to gamble, I was more interested in the boardwalk and beach, but since the beach was going to have to wait till tomorrow, I had time for a few turns of the wheel. With my sixty-dollar investment I found myself down to ten dollars rather quick as I couldn’t hit one number. Then I worked a system of number, even or odd, and red and black, combo and connected of all three to get myself a big boost of chips. Then after a few more lucky guesses on numbers, I had reached by sixty dollars level again and then even went up to double the amount, which would’ve nearly covered the room fare. Looking for more than just room fare, I kept on going, and found myself to ending up with zero.

            The drive down was long and I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, so I felt it was a good moment to head down to the food floor on the street level for the reliable casino buffet. Again, back in 2007 the price was much higher and they offered crab legs, this time the buffet was only $25, and there no crab legs. The food available didn’t look so appetizing and indeed the economy issue certainly had forced the casino to pull back the reigns in quality. It’s very easy to use the buffet options as an excuse to put together the worst possible food combinations and end up with a sour stomach. I was aiming to keep things even keel and the portions to a reasonable amount. My first trip up included mussels, clams, ravioli, and a small slice of pizza, which is a classic Mediterranean dish (maybe). After, I went with a meat course, highlighted by baby back ribs, with sides of rice and mashed potatoes. Knowing I would need room in my stomach for boardwalk snacks later on, I kept the dinner part to two plates. The dessert dishes to finish it off included a small piece of marble cheesecake, warm apple cobbler, and some type of warm cushy treat, almost like flan. There’s a big window at the buffet in which you can see people strolling by on the boardwalk. I couldn’t wait to get out there, so I finished off my dessert course rather quickly. The sun was going down and there was a nice breeze off the Atlantic Ocean, it was the ideal time for the boardwalk. Along with the bright lights and luxurious architecture of the casinos reigning overhead, I could also see the run down houses and vacant lots which hang in their shadows. Near the Atlantic City Convention Center it looked like a show was about to go on. It turns out it was a local kids dance group and I was going to stay and watch some of it, but they asked the kids to each announce their name and where they’re from. The very first kid took nearly three minutes to spit out his name and that he was from Patterson, NJ. With a line of nearly forty kids yet to get to, in no way was I going to wait through all that, so I headed on my way.

           The first of the boardwalk snacks I decided upon came in the form of a vanilla malted from a Johnny Rockets stand. It was a small and simple order, but they still gave me the electronic buzzer to notify me when it would be ready, although I could just have stood there and saw it myself. I only drank about sixty-percent of it because I still wanted to leave room in case I had the urge for more snacks, plus a Johnny Rockets shake is very rich in texture, but super-delicious. I peeked over the rail and onto the sand and noticed a stray cat strolling about, then another, and then another. I saw them too back in 2007, but what I didn’t see previously was that these cats were part of a boardwalk program from Alley Cat Allies that neuters stray cats. There were other animals as well making an appearance in AC, seagulls lurked around in search of food, and I even spotted a small squirrel snacking on something. My favorite of the fudge-taffy producers, Steel’s Fudge, was still standing strong, as it had been since 1919. In addition, I was also happy to see a James Salt Water Taffy giving Steel’s a run for their money. I walked by Caesars, Bally’s, Trump Plaza, but I was really upset to find out Harrah’s Resorts had the crab legs this time, from the humongous advertisement sign they displayed. There’s a small amusement park on a pier, similar to what I saw in Seaside Heights, and this one is called Steel Pier. What makes this one stand out over Seaside Heights is that they offer helicopter rides, $49 for one person, $74 for couple, which consists of a three-minute spin over the casino-based skyline. It was tempting, but after losing the $60 earlier at roulette, I didn’t feel like dropping another $50. Plus, the mussels and Johnny Rockets shake in my belly might’ve not appreciated the altitude. The sun was down by now and it had already been a long day without a nap, so I turned around and made back to the Tropicana. I did have a freshly-squeezed lemonade before heading back in, but in terms of food I was done for the day. Before going back to my room I did take a few cracks at the slot machines with some of the small bills in my pocket, but of course ended up with zero with those too.

             I woke up in the morning rather early because I wanted to get a good breakfast and head to the beach before I needed to check out of the room by 11am. Not too far from the Tropicana on the boardwalk I found the Country Kitchen, which is basically like a diner. I’m not sure what the situation is with the business, but nearly the entire staff was Russian. I ordered a belgian waffle with a side of ham. The sign of the waffle was new and interesting, but the batter they used was too sweet, and the ham was as hard as a rock. One important thing I learned from the syrup on the table, one of them was called boysenberry, I always thought it was called “poisonberry”. I walked around the streets a little to digest and passed by an old bookstore as well as the Chelsea Pub, which featured statues of the Blues Brothers on their roof. The disappointment of the breakfast was certainly erased from the delight of the beach. Even though it was still in the early part of the day, the water was just the perfect temperature to feel refreshing while the sun’s rays begun to blaze down onto the surface. The water of Atlantic City is far rougher than what I experienced at Seaside Heights, and overall I would put the wave-power to that of Jones Beach, but not as towering as Montauk. I only spent about an hour and a half swimming, even though I could’ve stayed the whole day, but I needed to rush to check out of my room and get ready for the drive back to New York. I parked the car in the Tropicana parking garage, and you can leave it in there for as long as you want for $10, unless you exit that is.

             Before leaving town I really wanted to get the taste of an authentic Atlantic City restaurant for lunch, no casino buffet or chains like Johnny Rockets. I even ruled out the Carmine’s located inside the Tropicana. Leaving the car in the garage still, I walked around and came upon a great candidate called the Knife and Fork Inn, established in 1912, seven years before Steel’s Fudge and the same year the Titanic sunk. The only problem is they don’t open until 4pm, so I was too early for them. There was another good opportunity called Dock’s Oyster House, but they too were closed at the time. I was heading in a more tougher-looking part of town. With my legs tired and sweat dripping down my face from the strong sun, I was going to take the next whatever. Not wanting a pizza place, my choice was narrowed down to the Mexico Lindo Restaurant and Bakery, in which their sign is too cool to give out the area code of their phone number. The inside had no air conditioner, but a giant fan which I was lucky to get a seat at. There were a few patrons inside, eating their lunch and watching a Spanish-speaking station on a television. The inside is decorated with Mexican hats lined up on the walls and flag from several Latin American countries. The waitress brought over a plate of tortilla chips and salsa and took my order. I went with a hard-crushed chicken and onion tostada for the appetizer, and for the main lunch course I had the three tacos consisting of beef tongue. The meat is extremely soft and tastes just like any other type of beef. The waitress kept bringing me napkins so I could wipe the sweat off my forehead as the spices were taking their toll on my already heated body. The whole meal with a can of soda came out to a mere twelve-dollars, and it was probably twice as good as anything I would’ve found at the Knife and Folk Inn. I was happy they weren’t opening until 4pm.

             So while I traveled to Atlantic City in search of mass air conditioning, I ended up sweating bullets in a Mexican restaurant…..