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Draplin Design Co., North America


Pushing off outta NYC was quite a challenge.

What I did upon arrival into the beast was, in part due to “being a bit hesitant to guide Big S into the concrete jungle,” was meander down to Newark to park at the airport there. It went pretty well: Bypass the city, rip down the turnpike to Newark, park, arrange the gear, gear up and make my way into the city via train, bus, thumb, whatevs.

So here’s how it went. Drove in, found the econo parking lot out in B.F.E. section of the airport, parked, grabbed the essential gear, locked him up, caught a shuttle to the airport, caught a train to Manhattan from the airport, caught the 1/9 subway down to 18th and 7th, hiked down to 17th and 7th and found Cameron’s pad. Phew.

Now, getting back to Newark was the same process, only in reverse and real early in the morning when New York feels fresh. A bit slow going, but worth it to be free of headaches over parking and traffic and such.

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I got back out to Newark, secured Big S, paid the fee and was off headed south. I crossed through Jersey real fast, enjoying the beautiful scenery, all the way down to Philly, where I was quick to jump off 95 onto Walnut Street downtown in order to pick up Andy Beach for a summit meeting.

I grabbed Andy from his Urban Outifitter’s dayjob (graphic artist behind all the fun type we love so much from those guys) and cruised to South Philly to Pat’s Cheesesteak. Over cheesesteak, fries and soda we caught up on a variety of topics ranging from “Real Estate” to “Chicks” to “Graphic Arts” and even a little bit of delving into the “Good Ol’ Days at MCAD.” I met Andy Beach at MCAD some years ago, in a typography class of all places. Good kid, you bet. Strong in mind, strong in spirit. From Detroit originally, and you always gotta love that.

After our luncheon of steak and cheese, I dropped him off to go make more fun type and headed outta Philly, careful to get a quick glance at Independence Hall and that sacred Liberty Bell. America, the beautiful.

I love Philly. I think of Pete Rose and the Flyers’ logo and Ron Jaworkski of the Eagles and the Trocadero and Rocky and Ben Franklin and the Mint and the weird baseball mascot and Pat’s cheesesteak and that one time I hung out with Adelizzi from Alaska and how we went wayyyy downtown in order to score some brown heroin for his addicted pal from the safe suburbs. Little turd. He took us in this sketchy neighborhood, left us in the car and ran into this run down tenement to get his little powdery fix. Dumb shit.

Also, I hit up a street vendor and bought five bucks worth of those amazing pretzel’s. (Three for a buck, ay-oh.) Provisions for the road ahead. Good shit.

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On down through Wilmington, a little too late to drop in on House Industries (I have ideas for new fonts!), and on through Baltimore (througt of John Waters’ mustache for but a second), and kept going all the way to Washington D.C.

Upon arrival into the nation’s capital I jumped on the famed Beltway heading west. Traffic was a real motherbelter, shaving much-needed downtime off the day’s haul. Arrgh. I finally got down to the toll road out to Dulles, veered off and secured a hotel for the night in Leesburg, Virginia, and then cruised out to wade through security and more traffic to get Whitney.

She came in around 9:15 in the PM, and man, it was good to see the girl. Missed her. We did a little chow and then called it a night. Tired Draplin, tired Whitney.

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Tomorrow we head into DC to do some seeing our nation’s capital. Real excited.

There is One Comment

Pete Rose only played a few years in Philadelphia, from 1979-83. He spent the bulk of his career with the Reds. I bet there’s a few fans in Cincinnatti that hit you in the jaw if they read that.

Fuck Pete Rose.

Posted by: Ryno on 10/09/04 at 6:59 PM