Wenty and Adam and Pat and Heather and Sally

A few years ago on Facebook, some dear friends and I shared photo memories of a trip to New York City that happened in the Spring of 1998. It was my final year at SUNY Brockport, a year during which I had a quote-unquote “humor column” in the student newspaper. Which is fortunate, because I spread the story of this particular Spring Break adventure over two columns, which are posted below. Brief notes: I have edited nothing. God, I would like to, but the idea is to share it as it was. Also, regarding the Port Authority incident with the cops: I think I tarted it up by about a third for the column. Consider it the “TV-movie” version of events. It was scary, though. Oh, and Pat Adriance shed his vestigial “TV’s” within about a year of these events. I’ll see you at the end with some 2024 comments.

March, 1998:

The results are in, and I’d like to thank everyone who participated in my Spring Break poll by telling me where to go (even the 211 of you who responded with the all too predictable “hell-in-a-handbag” joke).

You guys sent me to the Big Apple.

I made the trip with Brockport student TV’s Pat Adriance (his name is always preceded with “TV’s”–that’s just the way it is). Our host in New York was Brooklynite and fellow student Adam Gerstenhaber.

Another Brockport student along for the journey was our good friend Heather Behr. Heather, originally from Queens, provided some much-needed security when Adam wasn’t around. The Behrmeister can ward off muggers, beggars and other ne’er-do-wells simply by shouting, “Check yourself!” It’s true.

Anyway, our first activity was Adam’s auto tour of Brooklyn, pointing out various sites of personal interest. Here’s something you might not know if you’re not from the New York City area: the Russians have taken over a considerable chunk of Brooklyn. I’m not kidding!

There are all sorts of tiny shops with Russian lettering. It was sort of creepy in a way. Perhaps that hack comedian Yakov Smirnov should open a comedy club…it could revitalize his career! (For future reference, Yakov is one of two comedians you can knock on and not offend anybody. The other is Gallagher or Carrot Top…it’s an either-or type of thing.)

On to our next New York City destination: The Sally Jesse Raphael Show. We sat in the audience for two tapings, and it was here that I decided to get a snapshot to prove to you and the Stylus staff that I actually made the trip.

I asked the audience coordinator in between shows if I could get a picture with Sally. She said “If you do, you have to run over to where she’s standing during a commercial. It has to happen really fast.”

Armed with this information, TV’s Pat and I leaped out of our chairs at the first commercial break and rushed over to where Sally was standing…only to be stopped by a couple of mall-level security guards spouting, “Hey, guys…we need you to stay back here.”

Stay back, my tourist butt! This was our only chance! (Actually, I was ready to crawl back to my seat and give up–it was Adam and Heather who encouraged Pat and I to try another route: “Go through the audience! Those security guards had better check themselves!”)

So Pat and I shuffled through the third row of the audience to finally reach Sally and give her a recent Stylus and a WBSU key chain. Let me say that Sally happily accepted both items, and was incredibly gracious in posing for the picture you see above. Let me also say that the audience coordinator was nice enough to take the picture, allowing TV’s Pat to sneak into the frame.

Sally was fun, but not nearly as fun as a trip down Fifth Avenue, where every brand name has its own specialty store. The Warner Bros. Studio Store, The Disney Store, The Levi’s Store, The Extra-Strength Tylenol Store…they’re all there. These are the kinds of stores that have the chutzpah to charge you $55 for a key chain with their company logo, and the smarts to know that you’ll buy it anyway.

Aside from such ripoffs, New York has cleaned up its act! Well…sort of. The cabs are user-friendly now. When you enter, a semi-famous personality on tape (we got Judd Hirsch and Dr. Ruth) tells you to fasten your seat belt. When you arrive at your destination the has-been celebrity comes on again to remind you to bring your belongings with you when you exit the cab. Is this a common problem? “Gee, what happened to that giant shopping bag marked ‘Tylenol Fifth Avenue’? It was with me when I got in the cab…oh, no!”

Well, the old clock on the wall says that if I run any longer I’ll cut into Dave Barry, so I guess I’ll have to stop here. Enjoy the Spoof Issue next week and join me in two weeks for “New York City Part Two,” including the gripping saga: “I Was Frisked By New York’s Finest!” Come to think of it, that was one of the “Sally” topics…

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And here we go with part two of “My Trip to the Big Apple,” as selected by Stylus readers in a recent poll. Last issue, I discussed such fun-filled sights and sounds as Sally Jesse Raphael’s security guards, Fifth Avenue shops based on popular brand names (the “Folger’s Crystals Boutique” was my favorite) and the rather disturbing Russian section of Brooklyn.

This week, I thought I’d talk about the scariest portion of any visit to New York City: arriving at the bus terminal and leaving from the bus terminal. New York’s bus terminal is the Port Authority, although what they really seemed to be an authority on were newsstands, flower shops, luncheonettes and sleazy-looking guys vending jewelry of dubious origin. If you can find a ticket window or information desk here and there, consider yourself blessed by St. Greyhound.

Amidst this massive cave of activity, our host–Brooklynite Adam Gerstenhaber–was scheduled to pick us up when our bus arrived. When my friend, TV’s Pat Adriance and I arrived, we wandered around looking for Adam for 15 minutes…then a half-hour…then 45 minutes. At one point, Pat went to page Adam for the 43rd time while I stayed and guarded our luggage. After Pat left, a pair of policemen came through checking for loiterers–those who couldn’t produce a ticket were given (if you’ll pardon the pun) the bum’s rush. Although I had a ticket, one of the cops apparently thought I was a young runaway. He asked, “How old are you?” I told him my age and he said, “You don’t look it.” He’s right, of course. I look about 12-and-a-half. Thankfully, though, he believed me and went on searching for genuine derelicts and runaways. But Pat and I would deal with the New York City police department again before this trip was over. (That’s what they call a “tease” in the business.) Eventually, on a hunch, I called Adam’s house in Brooklyn.

“Hello?” I recognized Adam’s gruff vocals immediately, and proceeded to communicate to him our concern at being stranded in a giant bus station. As it turned out, Adam searched for an hour at the Port Authority–in the wrong building. Apparently there are two Port Authority buildings. This information would have been useful WHEN WE BOUGHT OUR BUS TICKETS!

Ahem…anyway, after some haggling (read: sobbing like infants) we got Adam to drive back into the city from Brooklyn and pick us up. (Interesting post-script: on our first night in New York we saw a comedy group called “Chicago City Limits.” At the end of the show, they asked if anyone had anything interesting happen to them recently. My hand shot up like a 4th grader in math class, and before you could say “Les Mis”, this comedy group was completely improvising a musical based on our Port Authority experience. A bizarre thing, to be sure…seeing some goofy comedian playing out something that happened to you.)

Seeing our Port Authority story on an off-Broadway stage was not nearly as bizarre as what happened as we were dropped off at the P.A. to catch our bus home. TV’s Pat and I needed to figure out which of the 2,843 gates our bus was leaving out of. After sifting through the newsstands, flower shops, etc., we arrived at a Trailways ticket room. This place was set into the building like a small shop in a mall. TV’s Pat and I walked in and approached the window. TV’s Pat sort of mumbled an “excuse me” to the three or four people behind the ticket window, who did not respond.

He then said “excuse me” in full voice–again, no response. TV’s Pat was starting to get a little miffed, and by this point, we had made direct eye contact with the two women behind the counter with no response. I remember thinking, “This is sort of weird…” That would be about the time that the two policemen came in.

“You guys were held up? Where is he? Did you get a look at him? We need a description!” Then a loud series of beeps and static from a police walkie-talkie.

At this point one of the cops approached TV’s Pat and me. “What are you guys up to? Just getting some bus tickets?” His tone was friendly and conversational. Then he took out his gun and asked me, “Could you take your hand out of your pocket, son?”

To quote famed lesbian detective Velma, Jinkies! This cop thought I might have been toting a gun or something!

I brought my hand out of my pocket as fast as man has ever brought hand from pocket. At this point TV’s Pat and I had both sort of put our hands up, but I can’t honestly remember whether the cop told us to or not. While Officer Friendly looked on, another policeman frisked TV’s Pat, then me.

Then more beeps and static from the walkie-talkie. The cops (by now there were about five or six in our area) all left the scene, running downstairs to the lower level.

In retrospect, I can only thank God that TV’s Pat and I were so determined to get our gate information. If we had given up on this counter, we would have to find another. By this point we were cutting it close, and we would have to run in search of another counter. What if the two cops that heading toward the ticket county saw TV’s Pat and me fleeing that site. It’s downright frightening. Upright frightening even.

I can’t end on such a pathetic joke, so I’ll say a sincere thank you to Adam Gerstenhaber, Heather Behr and TV’s Pat Adriance. Whether it’s a trip to New York or a trip to Wegman’s, travel is always more exciting, more challenging, more memorable in the company of good friends.

Okay, 2024 Wenty speaking. There’s a “fifth Beatle” here that we need to acknowledge: my pal Todd Hess, editor of ye olde Stylus, who gave me the opportunity to write for the paper. Those columns gave me the experience to improve every bit of writing I’ve done since, from radio to blog to an actual book! With illustrations by Pat! (Estimated release date: October 2045.)

It’s hard to believe that it’s been over a quarter-century since these wonderful people and I enjoyed this unforgettable journey. I’ll never forget them.