Home Alone 2

Christmas in NYC (Or, Kevin Lost in New York!)

I’m currently writing from the stunning Ace Hotel in midtown Manhattan. We are enjoying an upgraded hotel room with a view of the Empire State Building. Did Megan and I recently come into a large sum of money? Good question. Actually no. Credit card miles have covered the whole trip. And as a bonus, we originally booked a small room with no view and (hopefully) a toilet. To our wonderful surprise, the first room’s heater was stuck on high-heat, full blast, so the manager offered us a king size room on a higher floor with a better view. I like this place.

Also, a Stumptown cafe is located in the building (one of two in NYC), which is a wonderful surprise. In case you’re unaware, Stumptown is a Pacific Northwest coffee, so it’s great to have a taste of home on Christmas, even so far away.

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As a child, I watched Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, and I’ve been dreaming of Christmas in the Big Apple ever since. Walking through snowy Central Park, eating a cheese pizza in a limousine, throwing a well-intentioned brick through the window of Duncan’s Toy Shop.

MSDHOAL FE016

Okay, so maybe it’s not really snowing. And I won’t be getting into a limousine anytime soon. And Duncan’s Toy Shop doesn’t really exist.

But here’s what does exist.

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Breaking Sad

I’ve been feeling a lot of emotions lately. This moving across country thing, ya know? I’ve been all over the place. Like a good episode of Breaking Bad, I start content but end my day sweaty and angry.

All the packing and repacking and selling and goodbye parties and hugs. After awhile—no matter how much you want to go, now matter how easy it’s been to leave in the past—moving across country, away from everyone you know and love, just sucks. And I’ve been feeling it.

The other day, I nearly broke down in tears after hearing the main theme song from Home Alone 2 in a local toy shop.

HE GAVE THE TURTLE DOVE TO THE PIGEON LADY!!!

Saved by the Bail

We’ve been selling stuff, as mentioned, on Craigslist. The selection is getting thinner which is good. We’re down to the big ticket items like guitar amps and record players. These need to sell, NEED to sell. If they do then we can afford hotel rooms on the way to Rochester. If not, we’ll buy drugs and drive straight through. Well, no.

Craigslist has been affecting my emotional state more than I probably realize.

Every time a potential buyer bails on me (which is often, thank you Craigslist community), I shrug my shoulders; on the inside, though, I’m screaming, “DON”T THEY KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS?”

“I hate you,” is a text message I also fantasize about sending.

They’re not all bad though. Yesterday, we met a guy at outside a Cabelas to sell an old motorcycle (uhem… moped) helmet. This guy’s head, and that helmet? Match made in Heaven. He looked stout. I could’ve hugged him.

It seemed best to let the stranger leave without a warm embrace.

As he left, I noticed the last link to my scooter was gone. I’ve never talked about my scooter on here before, but let me tell you, I loved it. The scoot was a beast. The Lance Venice, my Lance Venice. 150ccs of pure power. Silver color, 2007 model. 0 to 60 in… well it never quite got to 60, but you get the point. I sold it last year, and God I miss that thing.

I sat there in the parking lot, drunk with emotion, caught between the misery of selling my scooter and the beauty of that stranger’s head wearing my helmet.

Not-so Sweet Emotions

You see what I mean? All these emotions. What’s going on here? This isn’t normal. I’ve been so damn emotional lately! Is this, maybe, the softer side of Kevin, breaking, bursting through the surface like Free Willy?

I’d argue and say that I’ve always had a softer side, in the movies especially. Play me the end of Homeward Bound and I’ll cry my way into puddles. “SHADOW!!!”

Maybe moving across country is just hard. Maybe it was never meant to be easy. Maybe I’m referencing old 90’s movies because I’m afraid of getting older and, right now, looking to the past is easier. Maybe I should’ve talked about my scooter sooner…

Maybe, I’m just breaking sad.

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What’s your response? Any advice? How about a good Craigslist story?