Ann held in her hands two tickets to Trenton. She always knew I’d be taking her places. . .but did she ever dream it was Trenton?
Jordan can not contain his excitement at seeing a sign for Trenton.
The Jumbotron at the Soverign Bank Arena in Trenton, NJ.
We were there to see the Trenton Titans battle it out with the Atlantic City Boardwalk Bullies. It was pretty similar to the movie Slap Shot. Drunks, fighting, swearing. Good stuff. And as somebody who doesn’t know too much about hockey, it was just as good as the NHL. We were right up front — but everytime some action (banging up against the boards, brawling, a face-off) was directly in front of our nose I forgot to take a picture. My father would say, “Take a shot now!” and I’d grab my camera, but it would be too late. Finally I said, “I don’t work for Associated Press — my pictures don’t have to be perfect!” Then I was able to relax a bit. Anyway, here are some decent shots I took during the game.
Does it say “Goal” or “Go Al?”
Ann talked about getting popcorn for about an hour, then finally got some.
The Two Titans. George Hoffman and Ellen Donahue outside the Soverign Bank Arena with their new Trenton Titans hats. If you click on the above photo and look closely at the larger version, you’ll see that my father still has the price tags on his, a la Minnie Pearl.
Here’s something we discovered. Trenton is beautiful!! To get from the train station to the arena is, basically, a two-block walk. (We didn’t know this at first, and going there we spent an ungodly $6 making a 40-second cab ride. I’m not exaggerating. The cabs had a flat fee of $3 per person. And, like a shmuck, I gave a $1 tip. This is $7 of what my father calls Rebbe Gelt.) Anyway, we found fantastic buildings on the two blocks to the station on the way back. Here is block one.
On the second block we discovered giant mansions ca. 1860. They were just sitting there, obviously unused (but not quite abandoned.)
As Ann and I are snapping photos, walking around private property, a man with a beard comes out of one of the empty houses. I speak pre-emptively “These are great houses. We’re on our way to the train station.” “Where are you from?” he asks. “New York.” “What the heck are you doing in Trenton?” he asks. We tell him we’re here to see a hockey game, and really dig these old buildings. Then he rubs his eyes for a minute, takes a deep breath and says, “Come inside. I’ll show you something.”
Now — for a minute — a chill went through my entire body. This man was going to kill us. He was soft-spoken, bearded and he was living in a haunted house. And he kept rubbing his eyes a lot. Anyway, we went in the house for a few minutes. He told us the history of the house and very abruptly said, “You better go. You’re going to miss your train.” Maybe he was fighting inner demons that wanted to kill us? I didn’t get a photo of him, but got a few of the interior. Notice how tall the door is next to Ann.
Finally, we made it back to the station, which we both agreed looked like an old R.E.M. video.
