I Went To Wildwood And All I Got Was This Awesome T-Shirt

Despite the fact that I grew up only a Ferry ride away, I have never actually set foot in New Jersey (beyond the occasional rest stop on the way to NYC and beyond).

OK, that's a b-lie. I'd been there once. It was in Camden. It was for Lollapalooza, the year of Pavement and Cyprus Hill. So I don't feel like that counts.

What I'm trying to say is that when Jeff, Bookie, and I made our way onto the Boardwalk in Wildwood, I had no idea what to expect...beyond what I'd read and seen on my favorite blog of all time, FourFour. Jeff and Bookie were hyping it up so much that I was expecting to see greatness. I wasn't disappointed.


On our way there, we passed by the following sign...



...clearly someone was trying to tell us something. And so, we attempted to call the number to find out who would pick up.

It only took us five minutes to realize that it wasn't a real number (Hi...P-R-A-Y-E-R only equals six digits).


After an extended moment in Jeff's former place of employment (the arcade/casino known as Gateway 26), we ventured out onto "America's Boardwalk" to enjoy the sights.



America's Boardwalk is apparently full of pregnant and scared women.





America's Boardwalk is also full of hidden political discourse.



America's Boardwalk doesn't care about the disabled.



America's Boardwalk is full of Cheese Whiz.



America's Boardwalk doesn't care for foreigners.





Girls love America's Boardwalk.


And last, but certainly not least...



...America's Boardwalk wants you to WATCH THE TRAM CAR PLEASE.

* * *

As we were wandering down America's Boardwalk, I was struck with a bit of inspiration. To memorialize this part of the road trip, we needed to get commemorative, custom air-brushed "East Infection 2008" t-shirts.

We wandered in and out of multiple T-Shirt shops, but all of the airbrushers appeared to have gone home for the night.

All except for Captain Airbrush.





We walked into the store just as Captain Airbrush was airbrushing a giant wave on a giant T-shirt. I was sold on Captain Airbrush as soon as I saw his hair. It consisted of at least four to five bright pastel colors. All various shades of pink, purple, and yellow. Clearly, the Captain was our man.

Once he finished his work on the wave, Captain Airbrush approached us and then patiently waited as we figured out the perfect layout for the perfect T-shirt. We settled on a cartoon jalopy surrounded by the words - "East Infection 2008." We told Captain Airbrush our plan and he barely raised an eyebrow. He looked off into the distance for a moment, as if he was lost deep in thought. When he finally returned to earth, he informed us that the shirts would cost us forty dollars and that we could pick them up tomorrow anytime after 4 pm.

Jeff explained that we had to leave town by one pm and that we needed the T-shirts tonight. Captain Airbrush explained that if we wanted the shirts tonight, we had to simplify our design. So much to Jeff's chagrin, we cut out the cartoon jalopy. Suddenly the price was now 25 dollars a shirt. And more importantly, our shirts would be ready in an hour.

We left Captain Airbrush to work his magic, buttwenty minutes later...we found ourselves drawn back in...just so we could watch the master at work.





It was all quite mesmerizing.



Once he finalized the t-shirts in some sort of giant press, Captain Airbrush packed up his latest pieces of artwork and handed them over to us. He explained that as long as we followed his instructions (wash in cold water only, air dry only)...these shirts would last forever.


So fifty years from now, when Jeff and I can barely remember the Cheese Whiz pizza, the political paintball setup, and the scared pregnant girls that populate America's Boardwalk...



...we'll still have Captain Airbrush.

A Shore Thing

First of all--Jon and I are in NYC right now: The City that Never Sleeps! Unless you're us, in which case you sleep till noon. We're a little bit behind on blogging, which I hope isn't as confusing to you as it is to us.

A sample conversation:

Jeff: "When was Wildwood? Was that yesterday?"

Jon: "No. That was on Day Two. This is Day Four."

Jeff: "When was Day Three?"

Jon: "I think it was Yesterday."

Jeff: "All day?"

The problem is, we're a day behind on the blog and suddenly it's more complicated than the LOST timeline.

To catch you up, I'll start with Cape May, NJ, where, as Jon mentioned in his post, my parents have a vacation home. Every weekend throughout my youth, my parents would take the two hour trip from Philly to The Shore to hang out in Cape May--and they would drag my bony ass with them since I was only eight or nine years old & my brothers and sister were all deviants who weren't to be trusted with their precious baby brother. (Hi, Donna poured Orange Juice into my cereal because we were out of milk. Not. Very. Maternal.)

Just before she tried to kill me.

Bookie joined us for this Shore Excursion. I think his favorite part was going to the supermarket. Ofcourseitwas:

It's Pronounced "Ack-A-Me"

Afterwards, we went to dinner at the Lobster House...
...which, as you can see, is very fancy with a very strict dress code:

We met up with my nephew Jimmy and his 18 year-old girlfriend Chelsea who is, as she puts it, "really robbing the cradle" by dating my 17 year-old nephew.

Of course, no matter how young they are, they are both still way more mature than any of us:

Idiot!

Afterwards, Bookie & I took Jon out for a genuine Wildwood Adventure.



You see, if you grew up in Philly, when your parents told you that you were going To The Shore, it was pretty much the best thing that could ever happen to anyone ever... and we went there every single summer for as long as I can remember.

Yes...my shirt says "Jeffrey Italian Stallion" on it.
And Yes, I'm also playing with my bubble-vac. OfcourseIam.

Wildwood is nestled along the Jersey Coastline, with a two-mile long boardwalk full of rides...

Closed Ferris Wheel!

...games...

Grab That Dough!

...and food you don't need, but desperately want to have in your mouth...

Technically not on the boardwalk...but still.

...well, maybe.

Because of the vacation house, I spent a lot of my youth (and a lot of my change) in and around Wildwood... in particular, at one of those arcades that gives you coupons when you play their games, enabling you to get cheap-ass merchandise that would cost you a tenth of what you paid to win it if you went to a store to get it. I spent so much time at this place, they eventually just gave me a job:


I worked at Gateway 26 on weekends throughout most of high school and all summer long while school was out, so it was weird to go in there and see that it tripled in size, yet still remained pretty much the same.

While I was in there, I approached the owner who, as it turns out, is in the process of selling the business to an old co-worker of mine--both of whom remembered me from when I worked there over fifteen years ago. (Although the owner did ask me if I ever became a chef, which means he confused me with this super-annoying guy who once hit his head on the fans above the Skee Ball machines. That ruled.)

As we caught up on old times, another co-worker who is still there came by and said hello. He mentioned that Weird Al was playing at the Wildwood Convention Center not too long ago, and they all wondered if I would be there, because, somehow, when they think of Weird Al, they think of me. None of them seemed surprised when I told them that I now occasionally work for Al... just like I wasn't really surprised to learn that these people were still around the arcade fifteen years later.

We played some games...
... and got some of the aforementioned lame prizes...

Pig Bandanna, anyone?

Jon with East Infection's Biggest Fan.

...and then ate some genuine Wildwood soft-serve at the Kohr Brothers ice cream stand located just outside of Gateway 26...

...complete with Rainbow Jimmies:


So, basically, that night encapsulated everything I did with my high school summers. Arcades, Ice Cream and Deviant Friends:

Is it weird that we're at our happiest when we have food and/or when we're mad?

And that's what Wildwood is all about. Oh no wait... Wildwood is actually about the rides. But they were closed. Oh well... There's always Road Trip 2009...