We don’t chance bringing the food back to either Tony’s or my house. Not with Jacquie’s all omniscient presence inside both residences. That’s omniscient, as in God Himself. Instead, we drive to the old abandoned Port of Albany and pull up to one of the old concrete docks which allows us to gaze out onto an unobstructed view of the Hudson River. On the way, Tony stopped at a beverage store and picked up a six pack of Bud cans with his Everest credits.
“You gotta drink a cold Bud with this stuff,” he insists, stealing a huge bite out of the first of two mustard and relish covered foot-long hotdogs, and following up with a deep drink of beer. “This brings back a ton of memories, Tan.”
I take a bite out of my sausage, onion, and pepper sandwich. It’s as good as I remember. My eyes focus on
