By Patty Kreiser
My fellow New Yorkers:
I have learned something. New Jersey is not, as my brother would put it, the armpit of America.
Last weekend I ventured into uncharted territory. I braved the highways, the George Washington Bridge and the New Jersey Turnpike to spend a weekend in “Dirty Jersey.” For the record, not all parts of New Jersey are gross and smelly. Most of it is actually quite nice. But I digress.
So why did I venture across state lines? Well, my friend loves me enough to have gotten us concert tickets to see the Rock Band Live Tour with Plain White Ts, Dashboard Confessional (Chris Carrabba is my husband; he just doesn’t know it yet) and Panic! At the Disco. Oh, the things I do for music: I’ll travel to America’s armpit in order to rock out and scream at the top of my lungs.
And as we all know, I’m not the greatest driver. I have zero sense of direction and I’m easily distracted. Yet my best friend trusted me enough to drive the 60-something miles to Morris County. The main reason she trusted me: I was the one with the car. I frequently get lost driving to the simplest of places. I guess it’s the blonde in me. However, my friend had the answer: GPS-God’s gift to directionally-challenged drivers. Too bad I pretty much fail at following the GPS directions. My friend had to follow the GPS and guide me through the turns as if I were a kindergartener trying to ride a tricycle.
Another thing-if you think I’m bad on residential streets, you should see me on the highway. I may have a lead foot in suburbia, but on the highway, my lead foot turns into a senile old woman who thinks breaking 20 miles an hour is dangerous.
Adding to my poor driving skills is my insane fear of bridges. I always fear they’ll collapse when driving over them. I fear that one day when my family is going to see my grandpa in Westchester, the Throgs Neck Bridge is going to fall into the water. I know it’s a stupid fear, but I have a lot of strange and stupid fears. Some of them being Scooby Doo, seaweed and spiders, but bridges scare the living daylight out of me. As we approached the Throgs Neck and the George Washington Bridge, I gripped the steering wheel and didn’t look at the water as I prayed for dear life. My knuckles turned white gripping the wheel. I clenched my jaw so tight it hurt. I didn’t blink and my eyes felt dry. And then it was over. While I still fear bridges (And seaweed. And Scooby Doo. And spiders.), I know I can drive over them. And I’d like to thank my best friend for making me do it.
And last but not least, traveling to the sketch part of Jersey to see the Rock Band Live Tour. While we spent most of our time in Morris County, we had to make the arduous journey to the Prudential Center in Newark. Whereas Morris County is clean and cute, Newark is like a smelly and ugly New York City.
As soon as we left Morris County, we made sure the doors were locked and we had pepper spray on us (just kidding about the pepper spray) and a bottle of perfume to lessen the oil and pesticide refinery smell. Needless to say, we made it home alive. And I learned some things: New Jersey isn’t awful. I’m still a bad driver and I’m still afraid of bridges…and seaweed.
Patty Kreiser is a junior broadcast journalism student. You may e-mail her at [email protected].