AUGUST 6

Ray wanted to see Fed Ex Field, where the Redskins now play, before leaving Washington, so we head west. After capturing a couple of pics of the Supreme Court building, we go east on Constitution (or was it Independence?) to the outer reaches of Washington, into Maryland and almost to the beltway.

There we find this monument to the NFL. Carved out of a hilltop is this enormous structure, surrounded by a desert of parking lots, which is used, at most, 20 times a year.

A thousand years from now, when archeologists find these things, they will say they harkened back to the Coliseum in Rome.

We then take a nice little drive to Baltimore to see Ravens stadium. The Baltimore team is putting on some kind of opening of camp, fan experience, so the roads are clogged. Yet we were able to find a place to snap a picture.

Then it’s on to NYC. But first we must negotiate the New Jersey Turnpike, no easy task. Truthfully, the turnpike wasn’t so bad; the Iron Skillet Restaurant along the way, however, taxed our digestive systems.

Our next mission was to see Jimmy Hoffa’s (alleged) grave at the Meadowlands. We asked a toll booth operator how to accomplish that. After numerous attempts at following his directions, we gave up and headed for the Sheraton Towers, our home for the next three nights.

It’s Saturday in New York, the weather is sweltering here too, and the tourists combined with the locals enjoying the outside, make this place manic. We have directions but are redirected in turn by one way streets and, at our last turn, some kind of street festival that looked as though it ran for many blocks down 7^th Avenue, the street our hotel was on.

Ray called the hotel to ask advice on what to do, and as soon as he hung up we spy a parking garage a block away from our hotel. Ironically, it was the cheapest place we parked all week.

We schlepped our bags to the hotel, found our room wasn’t ready, so we checked our bags and went on a mission to find a place to eat, a place to buy cigars, and a place to smoke ‘em. Our concierge knew it all. We got the smokes, and got a bead on a steak house and a club and went to check into our room. Unfortunately for us, someone else got it. So we were able to get another one at the end of a long hall on the 42^nd floor.

It was a nice quiet, clean room, but it felt like we were Lilliputians the room was so small.

We cleaned up and walked down the street to Gallagher’s, a famous New York steakhouse. I knew I would like the place when I saw all the pictures of ballplayers on the wall, including Yankee greats, but also many, many obscure players from the 20’s and 30’s hanging with them.

In addition we sat next to an 86 year old gentleman named Hank that we had a three hour conversation with about baseball and politics. I hardly remember the meal the conversation was so delicious. Alas, we shook hands and parted.

Our concierge recommended a place called the Carnegie Club featuring a Frank Sinatra imitator. So we enjoyed the fake music and the good cigars before stumbling back to the hotel.