StatNisland has always been shy of transient rooms except, I think, along Bay Street and maybe PawRichman, where sailors and other temporary visitors might find a room for awhile.
It took some time before SI had its first motel, which, as you may recall, is let 'im pronounced backwards.
Did da bridge change that?
Where did the police send enraged or drunken husbands to cool off before there were motels, I wonder?
Today the cops arrest whoever they think is the bigger *sshole, male or female. He (usually its a he, so much for advances in female equality) then attends 104 hours of counseling so he doesn't act like a typical male again when P.O.'d.
I know, he deserves all 52 weeks of it.
But it is definitely a different Woild. It's better than slicing each other up with plastic handled kitchen knives, usually on Thanksgiving or over the Christmas Holidays when the loving family gets together to continue what drove them apart in the first place, but that's another story, better suited to Br**klyn, not Holy StatNisland.
So, where were we? No motels on StatNisland until way after Da War.
Where did people go to get together before motels, I wonder.
Don't tell me about the sand dunes. I know the sand dunes and the cars with the steamy windows that got stuck behind them (the cars, not the windows, out of which you could not see), but who cares when life is sweet.
What I'm asking, is: What did the more mature types do, or, rather, where did they go, to get together, before motels (auto courts they used to call them, back in the Burma Shave sign days), on StatNisland?
Mays Hotel at South Beach?
What were the good places to meet new friends back in those days, and where would you go to make out?
Don't tell me the back seat of your car, I know about back seats. Then they had back seats that had some room.
Today, I almost feel sorry for todays kids. Have you seen the size of the back seats of todays cars? You could break your neck just climbing over the head rest.
And if you made it over, there was no room for your date!
Come to think of it, what do today's kids do?
Correct that, I think I know what today's kids do.
Where do they go, I wonder.
A motel? The Trump Towers?
Over to Corsale's house?
Knock on Gina's door?
Hey, Gina, do you mind if we borrow your spare room for awhile? We promise not to spill the Nunzio's pizza on your bedspread! Do you have church-key? (Today they have flip-tops to open aluminum beer cans! In my day, the test of strength was to bend a steel beer-can using your thumbs. My kid doesn't know what I'm talking about. I borrowed his keys the other day and he had a church-key on the keyring. Whatthehell'sthis? I asked.
It's for opening sodas, he said. Did I believe him? You got a case of beer hidden away someplace that I don't know about I wondered?
Then I remembered that today's beers don't require church-keys to open, they're aluminum flip-tops, so I believed him.
"What's a church-key, Dad?" he asked.
"You figure it out," I replied.
Somebody'd better clue me in so I know what to do next time I meet someone who's nineteen on the outside, to match my nineteen on the inside.
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