The Fastest way from Toronto to Syracuse is not through Philadelphia

Two friends from my own 1998 Wheels bus were getting married during my summer as a Wheels group leader. It was on July 3rd and my trip would be in Toronto, fairly close to their Syracuse wedding. I convinced the powers that be to let me take 24 hours off to attend the wedding. My friend David, a former Wheels group leader offered to come in and cover for me during the 24 hours I was gone. The plan was to meet back up with the group in Chicago the next day.

The first thing I learned was that a flight directly from Toronto to Syracuse did not exist. They were right across Lake Ontario from each other, but there was no way to find a flight that didn't go through somewhere entirely out of the way. It would have probably been more direct to take the four and a half hour bus ride, but I wanted to get their as fast as I could.

I had an early flight out of Toronto through Washington DC. I got through customs and was waiting by the gate when the flight was canceled due to plane mechanics. It was certainly an inconvenience, but I'm sure it would have been more so if the pilot decided to chance it and the mechanics became a problem mid-air.

I had to go back out to the main ticketing area and attempt to find a new way to Syracuse. At this point it was nearly 10:00 a.m. and the wedding began promptly at 5:00 p.m. I was supposed to originally land there at 1:00 pm, get picked up and have time to hang out with some of my old friends, but that was looking very unlikely.

Already had gone through customs. Had to come back out and go again later.

I was put on a 12:00 flight to Philadelphia, PA. I would arrive around 1:35 pm. The only flight to Syracuse was at 3:00, but since it was with a different airline, I had to pick up my back and re-check it before getting on the plane. I had no other choice but to comply even though arriving 40 minutes before the wedding started was going to be tough to pull off.

Visual Aid! Toronto to Philadelphia to Syracuse.
The plane touched down in Syracuse at 4:25 and I instantly grabbed my phone. I tried to plead with all my friends who were in town for the wedding. I hoped one of them had rented a car and could get me. Unfortunately, the synagogue wasn't right in the middle of Syracuse, it was out in a suburb called Manlius, about 20 miles away. All of my friends were already dressed and on their way there. My roommate had brought my suit with her from California and I told her to bring it to there and hang it in the coat room.

As we waited to deboard a couple in the row behind me asked if everything was alright. I told them the short, flustered version of my day. As it turns out they knew Jaclyn's father and wished me luck on my journey.

I ran ahead to the cab stand but none of them could understand what I meant nor did they seem to want to drive out to the suburbs. I hung up the phone, starting to feel defeated when the same couple from the plane approached me again. They offered me a ride and said it was only a little out of their way. I offered them money and they declined. They also declined the next offer of me naming my first born child after them.

We pulled up to the shul at 4:51 pm. All of the formally dressed guests were arriving and here I was, a 23 year old sweaty mess wearing jean shorts, a t-shirt and a baseball cap. I arrived at the door the same time as my roommate happened to be walking up. I yelled at her "I got here before you! Will explain later, where's my suit?" She told me it was in the coat room. I grabbed it and ran into the tiny synagogue men's room.

In the next five minutes I felt extremely fortunate that nobody entered the two-stall men's room to find me in my underwear changing into a suit. I splashed water on my face and threw on some extra deodorant before throwing my other clothes in a duffel bag and hiding it in the coat room. I sat down at 4:57 for the wedding. By the time the reception rolled around, my heart rate had slowed and I had finally stopped sweating. It was a great night.

I ended up staying in Syracuse for less than 14 hours, with a flight that left the next morning around 6:00 am. I was meeting back up with my group in Chicago, which, out of Syracuse meant a connecting flight in Washington D.C. I landed at O'Hare, took a cab to the Museum of Science and Industry and proceeded to fall asleep on a bench waiting for them to arrive.

Happy 4th Anniversary Ben & Jaclyn and congratulations on baby Ari!

Putting Her Best Foot Forward

When you’re dating someone long distance every aspect of the relationship gets put into a time warp. Sometimes the only times you’re able to see each other can overlap with other events. Since seeing the other person is already so rare, you’ll take what you can get. I guess that’s how Lindy ended up meeting my parents after only having been dating for five months. Even as I say we had been dating for five months, I have to clarify that during that time we had only been together about five or six times. The whole first year was a whirlwind.

I had already been planning to come home for Rosh Hashanah and I invited her to come home with me. The logic behind it was that a trip from Chicago to Connecticut would be a lot cheaper than going to Los Angeles.

The visit went fine. Everyone loved her. On our last night there, the conversation somehow moved to my high school art projects. I started talking about a couple of them and Lindy wanted to see. My mom told us they were stored up in the attic.

Lindy had been in attics before, but only ones that were furnished. My parent’s attic was far from furnished. It was a glorified storage space, a museum of childhood relics and old clothes. It was arranged so there is a small pathway around perimeter of the floor, with all of the stored items in the center. To get to my artwork, we had to walk the entire pathway to the furthest corner.

Among my work was my six foot Pez dispenser, some paintings and the main portfolio, which was what we were searching for. I showed Lindy a few items, stopping to remember and retell the stories behind them. I turned back to further rummage through the portfolio for one specific painting. After finding it, I turned around and Lindy was gone. I looked left and right, but didn't see her until I looked down.

There she was, sitting down with her left leg stuck through the attic floor. I hadn't noticed whatsoever because she did not make a sound. Even when I grabbed her and pulled her back up to a standing position, she was still in a silent shock. There was a foot wide hole in the floor and we could now peer into my sisters bedroom.

After making sure she was okay, I whispered in her ear "someday, people will tell this story at our wedding," as I laughed outloud. I then turned towards the staircaise and yelled "Daaaaaad!" while still hugging her, unintentionally screaming in her ear. My dad ran upstairs and yelled out as soon as he stepped into my sisters room.Everyone's initial reaction was to find out if she was okay, which she was. One step further to the left and she would have gone through completely, most likely dislodging my sisters ceiling fan and landing on her bed. The events of that night led to Lindy's mom and my mom speaking on the phone for the first time. Lindy's mom offered to pay for the damages, but my mom wouldn't let her because it was just a simple accident.

Once things calmed down, we watched Glory Road, but I don't remember anything about the movie. Everyone was too busy making comments about the hole, and Lindy was a tremendous sport about the whole thing.

"Nice of you to drop in," said my sister.

"That's putting your best foot forward," said my father.

"You really made an impact," said my mother.

Looking from the attic to Lindy and my sister, in her bedroom.

The full view under a ladder.

My dad ended up temporarily patching the hole using a piece of wire tied to a ruler. He thread the ruler and then pulled the wire to close the two pieces of sheetrock that were sticking down into the room. After shaking all the dust from my sisters comforter, it was good as new. You can see the handywork in the following photo:

Today is the three year anniversary of when we realized that this whole thing was just crazy enough to work. Sure it was long distance for over two years, but now we're living together. The waiting excruciating but it was also worth it and I could not love her more. If you have doubts about long distance relationships, please know that it can work.

Just stay out of the attic.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Date

In early 2005 I was still fairly new to Los Angeles. I didn't have many friends there and the ones I did have were trying to fix that problem. My old internship place set me up on a friend date with their new intern. We talked a few times, maybe even went out for a meal or two. She was a local girl, finishing her last semester at USC and I was new. It was nice to meet someone who knew their way around.

After talking a few times she mentioned her sorority and how she wanted to set me up on a date for one of their big events. I agreed because I had nothing to do that night. As it turns out, they would have probably picked anyone for this girl, I just happened to be available on instant messanger at the time. After agreeing, the following things were brought to my attention.

• It was an 80's party, so people were wearing costumes.
• It was a mystery bus ride, meaning we met up and were bussed to a surprise location.
• She was a college freshman who just turned 18. At the time, I was 23-years-old.

The thought of backing out was in my head, but apparently this girl was the last sister to get a date for the event already. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but in my mind this night had already been downgraded from a potential for fun to a favor for a friend. My date and I exchanged a couple of e-mails, mostly about logistics - costumes, dinner beforehand, address. There was a tiny bit of small talk and it was clear we didn't have so much in common, but that didn't prevent her from "friending" me on Facebook.

I picked her up at her dorm and we drove to the downtown California Pizza Kitchen. There were three or four other couples, all noticeably freshmen in college. It was obvious because all of the guys were mesmerized by when I ordered a beer. After the awkwardness that was dinner ended, the group went back to someones dorm room. The kids all started doing straight shots of cheap vodka. When I opted out, my date called me a party pooper. I reminded her that I had to drive us to the bus pick up. After taking her final shot, she filled a water bottle with the remaining vodka and tore the label off.

We met some place on campus and got on a yellow school bus. My date sipped occasionally from her bottle with the subtleness of carrying it in a brown paper bag, shouting to her friends all over the bus. I opened the window to get some air. It was mostly for her benefit, as she was already drunker than any 18 year old should ever be.

Upon reaching our destination, everyone got two drink tickets. I held on to one and my date grabbed the other from me. Apparently only the people distributing tickets checked IDs and the bartenders were informed to allow anyone who possessed a ticket to use them.

As concerned as I was about her slowly declining sobriety, speech patterns and ability to stand up straight, I was equally concerned that I forgot to wear a belt. This wasn't normally a huge issue, but I picked my jeans that night not based on size, but based on closeness in color to the borrowed denim jacket I wore. The winning pair happened to be my baggiest; at least one, maybe two sizes too large, bought in a time that I thought jeans had to be gigantic. The jeans weren't falling all the way off, but it was a nuisance to have to pull them up every ten seconds.

I danced with my date for a while and was actually starting to have an okay time. Then my date took my lack of wearing a belt as an indication to get handsy. I told her to take it easy and went to find the bathroom. On my way back, I stopped at the bar to look for her. I located her in the darker half of the room making out with some dude with a lot of hair gel and much closer to her age. Nothing could have made me happier. As I was still initially looking in her direction, she opened one of her eyes and caught my field of vision. She stopped making out and came over to me at the bar and asked if I wanted to come play truth or dare in the corner. I politely declined. She went back to that same guy and started going at it again. I glared at the dancefloor, looking right at the friend who set me up. She looked back and mouthed the words "I'm sorry".

I figured this was as good a time as any to use my one drink ticket. Everyone over the age of 21 was given two tickets, but my date snatched one of mine immediately. While getting a beer, I saw the girl whose apartment I subletted the previous summer and I asked if she remembered me. She didnt, and it was probably better that way.

My date was gone. My drink ticket(s) were gone. The worst part was that I couldn't leave. The return bus was still two hours away and I didn't even know where I was. It was a hotel in downtown L.A. I passed the rest of the night on the patio making desperate phone calls.

When we got back on the bus, my date sat with me and fell asleep on my shoulder. The only thought running through my head was the scene from Animal House when Pinto drops his underage date off in a shopping cart. Then I thought about where the closest Ralph's was.

During the return trip, the bus made many campus stops to let people off. My date got up for one of these stops and asked if I wanted to come with her. I said no. She said okay and I saw her walk off with hair gel dude. By the time the bus made it to the original pick up I was one of the only people left. Most of the others got off at various points along the way. I couldn't speed out of there fast enough.