are you looking for love, God, a lost key chain? and little girls dripping ice cream peered into my darkness...

Nick and I arrive in the clusterfuck that is Times Square right as dusk starts to fall, so it is considerably cooler out already. It has been some time since I last ventured into Times Square, as I think we avoided it last year for the very reason I am beginning to remember. In New York, there are only two types of people: New Yorkers, and Tourists. Right now, Faber and I fit into the latter category, along with the rest of the thousands of people crammed into a few square blocks. Its frustrating to walk around, but still interesting to see all the yahoos. We go into Toys R Us, expecting to be blown away by the amazing Transformers and exclusive Times Square toys, but the selection is basically bullshit. We head into the Virgin megastore, where we indulge ourselves in some marketing goodness by having our pictures made with America's famous-est family, The Simpsons. There are a bunch of youngish kids from different countries, and my pose certainly elicits a response from two cute Japanese girls. I think, man I could make a killing in that country. Nick scouts through the graphic novels and I go to take a whiz. The toilet works fine, but the sink is broken and I think thank goodness this isn't a restaurant. We head outside and walk a little further down the block and contemplate our next move. I have successfully bought nothing thus far, so I test my resolve and enter both the Hershey's store and the Swatch store. The Hershey store has a fake chocolate scent pumping through the store, and it smells nice at first, but eventually makes me want to puke. The watches in the Swatch store are insanely expensive, and not nearly as cool as I had hoped they would be. Still, I purchase nothing. Faber and I are not impressed with Times Square, and both agree that it is time to get the fuck off of our feet. On the way back to the train, we spot the not everyone's hero, The Naked Cowboy, but the Naked CowGIRL. She is a little busted in the face, but its great watching old foreign dudes eye-fuck her while she sort of prances around not really playing the guitar.

Faber and I head back to his new digs, which are really quite nice. We make a few phone calls and realize that neither one of us really wants to go back downtown, and that it might be fun to hang out locally in the Seinfeld part of town. I call my ol' pal Hez, and she and Deaner meet us at a place called The Heights for dinner and drinks. This is expensive, but very nice to catch up with my old pals. Hez is just as bright and wonderful to be around as ever, and though Dean seems a little jaded, but just as hilarious and sassy as ever. I feel a bit bad for Faber, who seems a bit out of place as we regale one another with stories from a years ago, of rooftop bars and showmances, of liars and thieves, of cocaine and alcohol, of the drama. I always think of people who describe shared memories to those who were not there as trying to describe a show that they will never see. I think they respond in that same sort of way too, as I'm sure Nick said: Sounds hilarious.

We want to have a couple more drinks elsewhere, so we decide upon The Ding Dong Lounge, where I had the pleasure of visiting a few years prior and had absolutely loved. It's everything a dive bar should be, plus more: dark as hell, with walls that seem perpetually wet, cheap beer, a pool table, and hardcore fucking drunks everywhere you look. If you could still smoke in bars in NYC, this place would have a nicotine haze you could slice with a knife. Ont he way there, a rat chases us for almost an entire block.

Brian joins us eventually, and seems a little distracted, but ready to party. We shoot the shit a while, and eventually all feel the pangs of our long days. My legs already feel like jello, and tomorrow would be the longest day of the trip. There was work to be done, and comedy to be made.