The Beast.

Wow, it has been eight days since my last post. I'm soooooooo sorry for letting everyone down. By everyone, I mean my mom and aunt who are the most avid readers of this blog because they have to be because they are family and because I pay them.

This past weekend Michael, my good friend from Fordham, graduated from Duke University School of Medicine. It's a shame he couldn't get into a prestigious school. I mean, his MCAT score of 480 billion was clearly sub-par for the more reputable schools. Regardless, congratulations!

Amit and I, being the good people that we are, flew into North Carolina for the event. I must say, it was one of the best weekends in recent memory. We went out every night, met a lot of cool new people, hung out with old friends, got a private, backstage tour of Cameron Indoor Stadium (i.e. Duke basketball home court) from Michael's family friend who coaches for Duke, had a great steak dinner, made inappropriate jokes, laughed the whole time, and saw a good friend at the culmination of several years of hard work.

There is also "The Beast." Let me explain.

Amit and I landed on Thursday night at Raleigh-Durham International Airport. (Sidenote: "International" in the same sense that Indianapolis has an 'international" airport. A twice weekly flight to Toronto does not classify your airport as international). Amit secured the hotel arrangments and I took care of the car. Now, anyone that knows Amit knows that he would want a stylin' car. Can you picture us pimping a phatty Escalade with tinted windows, spinners and heavy bass speakers? Hell yea you can! Now, anyone that knows me knows that I rented the Toyota Corolla. Hey, its practical, economical and that bitch gets 32 miles per gallon.

Well, the Hertz rental car dude made us both happy. Apparently, they were fresh out of Toyota Corollas. Must've had an Eastern European conference in town. So for $3 more per day, the Hertz man gave us a 4.0L, V6, bright yellow Ford Mustang! The way she looked. The way she sounded. The way she moved. The way she reacted. If I could've made love to this car, I would have. I sort of tried... she wasn't into me... I'm not sure why not... I'm sort of cool... right... guess I wasn't bringin' my A game... whatever... I'm over it... I hope she calls. Anyways, the whole weekend we rode (haha) "The Beast." It was hot.

So I landed at IND this afternoon and took the shuttle to the parking lot. I took one look at my '98 Toyota Camry and threw up in my mouth. That 4-door piece of emasculation purrs like a hamster and handles like a bowl of soup. No bucket seats. No leather wrapped steering wheel. A hundred less horses under the hood. And best of all, my license plate is freaking DAD3383! No, it's not personalized.