We're still driving.
It's been a good bit longer than the hour-and-a-half my friend Matt said it would take to get to the Labyrinth rock scramble, so much longer that my mind is beginning to wander and I feel almost entertained by the fantastic notion that he's tricked me and we are actually embarking into the film Labyrinth, where at any moment he will morph into a glam-hair-having, makeup-wearing, spandex-sporting Bowie-esque character, and I of course will be the weeping male infant in a striped onesie with whom he absconds into the Goblin Kingdom's castle, built beyond an unsolvable maze.
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cIt was a Sunday afternoon and I was on my way to Midtown to sell an iPad Mini to a Craig's List rando, very much looking forward to getting it over with so I could go home and sit on my couch and very purposely waste the day, when I got a text from my friend Brian: "Wanna grab lunch on City Island?" I pondered for a moment, and thought... fuck. Yes, I do. Dammit.
City Island had been on my to-do list for over a year, and given my resolution to squeeze every last drop out of the dwindling summer, I would have to rally some energy and the couch would have to wait.
Brian met me in Queens with his car and we got on the road. One thing that makes City Island a hidden gem of New York City is that you really need a car to get there, something most city-dwellers lack.
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