So we checked out the school and realized that if Donna were to drive to or from school, this elementary would be so much more convenient for our family. We stopped in one day to pick up the paperwork and we took it home. It was odd to fill it out because it was the same exact paperwork the students fill out at my high school.

Together Claire and I drove the paperwork over to the school; as we exited the car she took the packet from me to take inside. I shot a few photos and followed her in. We met with the attendance clerk and turned in all of her paperwork. The woman said Claire needed to take a placement test, and we asked what it entailed. She said Claire would be asked to identify her colors; Claire’s response was “do you want me to spell their names, too?” Very very fun.

So, as the distance between college life and adulthood passes, my infatuation with Einstein has subsided. I’ve always had a thirst for knowledge and enjoy the challenge of learning new things. This trait has been passed to my child, who incessantly asks questions and actually retains my responses for future conversation. Today I taught her the numbers 1 through 1 quadrillion in tens and how to properly place commas in large values. We also did a subtraction problem which she got right! OK, she used her fingers, but did so on her own accord. She also completed her first Soduku (kid’s version) puzzle, so today was quite intellectually successful.

It seems that despite my attempt to mature beyond childhood idols, the past has a sneaky way of creeping back into the present. And so it happens that my daughter has acquired a new title as the family’s budding Einstein.

Clooney is Clooney. He’s good, he’s natural and he can act. I was hesitant to see Up in the Air as it just looked like a romantic comedy for him to bring home a paycheck; and most of the way through the film I still felt this way. Frankly, I only saw this one because it is up for six awards including Best Picture and two Actress in a Supporting Role noms for Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick. Of course, it’s also up for Writing, Directing and for Clooney.

Sitting through a good portion of this film, I was pleased by the concept of single man whose real “home” is on the road flying around the USA firing people for a living and then Kendrick, fresh out of college, comes along to his company and flips Clooney on his head. At first she’s annoying, but she grew on me. I’d seen Kendrick in other things like (God forbid) The Twilight films and she was forgettable, but here, she’s good. Really good. Perhaps it’s because she plays against Clooney or maybe because she was given a role where she could actually act. I bet by now, you realize Kendrick, for me, is the shining exception to a ho hum film.

Farmiga worked very well as the love interest for Clooney, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her of look. There’s something just classy and traditional about her without being too usual.

***Spoilers below.***

But I did say, I saw these things through most of the film. Then we his the big climax and give away. What I liked about the scene where Clooney finally realizes his “love” for Farmiga and rushes off to her home (a brownstone in Chicago, much unlike his hotels and airplane seats) is that the audience doesn’t expect it. Seconds before he knocks on the door, I knew it was a bad idea.

As Farmiga puts it the next and last time they speak, he was her escape. She escaped away from her family to him while ironically she finally is the realization for him that he could be grounded happily. Beyond that Kendrick rushes off to pursue her real dreams with Clooney’s blessing, and his boss puts him back in the sky (played with some aplomb by a bearded Justin Bateman).

Clooney’s chances of winning against Jeff Bridges will be though since he really didn’t do much with this film other than play himself.

As for what it’ll win. We’ll see. Precious has too much hype for Mo’Nique to not be in the running, and two actresses for the same film make this problematic. Precious also butts heads with Up in the Air for both Screenplay and Best Picture, so personally I think Up in the Air will be grounded before the race even begins.

Had Farmiga and Clooney lived happily ever after, this film would’ve been as stale as a mid-America hotel room.

My name is Salmon. Like the fish. First name Susie.

Ah, and with those words, one of my most beloved novels has come to the big screen.

Gotta tell you that with all my film reviews, spoilers may occur. Deal with it. If you’ve not already read this wonderful book, go do it and then come back.

In 2005 I wrote a novel about a dead girl living through the lives of those still alive in her high school. A book where you don’t even discover how she dies until the waning pages. At the time, several people mentioned a little book to me called The Lovely Bones that I should read since it sounded like I was copying Alice Sebold. I assured them I wasn’t, wrote my entire book, and then picked up this gem.

I adored the irony of the conclusion to the novel and subsequent film, but I was hesitant to push this one towards my wife. See, my own daughter was just born and the rape scene before the murder still haunts me. I suggested that my wife never read the book because of that scene, and I sure have read some wild stuff over the years.

I had no idea how Peter Jackson, director, would handle this early scene, which, in part, was based on the author’s own experience in college. Fortunately, it was unlike my novel but anyway I still fell in love with such a wonderful book. After hearing it was on its way to the silver screen, I waited patiently. And waited. And waited. Wow, did I wait for a long time. But today I got to see it.

That rape scene? Cut out and barely even implied (and maybe I only thought it was implied because I knew the narrative beforehand).

Awards season is upon us and art direction stood out for me, to the point where it didn’t stand out which was perfect. There were a few scenes where I paid particular attention to the authenticity of the frame and I was pleased. The costumes (especially Ronan’s outfit) worked very well for me, and this “era” just worked for me.

People always talk actors when reviewing any film, and I went knowing that Tucci has been getting rave reviews for this film (and has been nominated in several awards so far). I didn’t realize quite how wonderful his performance was until he spoke in the film. He almost fell into the character to the point where I no longer watched Tucci. I watched a sad, depressed killer. He played it perfectly subtlety.

Even the subtlety of his lightened eye color, whose similarity to Ronan’s mesmerizingly pale blue, didn’t escape me. As for Ronan, I was lost in those eyes, albeit I’ve never seen her previous work for which she’d been nominated for an Academy Award. While Ronan’s performance here has the critics talking, for me, Rose McIver as Lindsay Salmon, Susie’s younger sister, stole the film. McIver began as the younger child like sister but after Susie’s death Lindsay matures into a woman, almost as obsessed with finding the killer as her father Mark Wahlberg is. Her onscreen transformation worked very well through the development of the plot, and I am eager to see her future dramatic work.

I enjoyed Wahlberg’s performance perhaps because I too am close to my daughter, Sarandon was hilarious as Susie’s boozy, chain-smoking grandmother but I never stopped wanting to shout “Damnit, Janet!” at the screen. Weisz and Imperioli round out the class. I enjoyed Imperioli’s role (no matter how small it was) but Weisz’s talents were terribly under used. Having seen much of her former work, I expected more from the role although I did understand that Susie’s mother’s healing required her to fall into herself.

I agree with the critics that Peter Jackson could’ve done more with the film and the special effects were well done (more than half of the film was a blue screened Susie-styled purgatory) but the film, if nominated for an Oscar for special effects, cannot beat Avatar in this category.

As with any book made film the critics will lambast certain perspectives and lack of development, and my only concern really lay in the characters of Ruth Connor and Ray Singh. If memory serves Sebold gives more time to these two characters, and while Singh moves in and out of the narrative as Salmon’s almost first love, his relationship with Ruth and then Ruth’s posthumously relationship with Susie could’ve been more fleshed out. Here was my single disappointment with the film. Albeit Jackson’s subtlety of the relationship of the two living teens works well and did well to not overshadow Susie’s tale. Moreover, while the irony of Tucci’s demise is not lost on Sebold or Jackson, some audience will leave the theatre scratching their heads; hopefully, to only return again and again to see this wonderful film.

After two years of this and bands coming and going, I went off to Penn State and began following bands like Velveeta and Jealous Sun (my first website I ever developed was for this band, now way defunct. Look for Jeff VanFossen, the lead singer, online). More smoky bars (no more basements for me!) and good, raw music. Then I grew up. I moved to Arizona and Dan and I hit the local scene. At first, it was supposedly all about Scottsdale (sorry! Don’t sue us. We weren’t locals then.) We saw Rock Lobster, and they were cool. Then we saw Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, and I was really confused because wasn’t that a Refreshments song they were playing, and then I finally got to the point where it didn’t matter; Roger rocks, and that’s it.

But then it was less and less about the shows and more about the music. We got old. Fridays and Saturdays were about sleeping after 4am mornings all week, and we had kids. Kids who didn’t understand that 4am on Saturday or Sunday was still 4am!

Now, it’s 2010. I am going to be 36 this year, and a few months ago I had the opportunity to see Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers of the first time in a few years. I almost blew it off, but something dragged me out there. I took my camera and shot the whole show, and I loved it. Something about being up there, the music, the people, everything.

When one of my students asked me to come out to his show, I actually didn’t give a lame ass answer of NO. I considered it. This was a cool guy who I knew has so much potential, so I checked when, I checked my calendar, I checked who could go with me, and I paid for the tickets. I asked if I could bring my camera, and I eagerly agreed to shoot the show. The band is young and needs promo pics and a demo, so I was willing to help out (didn’t even consider asking for money, as I know they don’t have any… hell, maybe they’ll make it big and pay me in 10 years).

Friend backed out but I was still on for the show. It was a strip mall store front. Looked like the place, called The Clubhouse, in Tempe bought a few stores and broke down the walls between them and then painted the front glass black. Not too much to look at, but for $10 and five bands, I was there to support. In line, I felt like a sore thumb. I could tell who was a parent pretending to not know the dark dressed emo/skater/thrasher/whathaveyou kid nearby. The kids behind me were pulling half smoked cigarettes out of an ashtray and burning the butt ends to get rid of germs before smoking them. (Was I ever that lame in highschool?)

I got in as the band took the stage. Sick But Beautiful is the name Alex picked for the band, and he told me he played guitar and back up singer. It was more like screamer, but it wasn’t that Screamo crap I hear about. This was more like way edgier Linkin Park with Shinoda and Bennington upfront. I was surprised. Not because I didn’t have faith in Alex, but because I was actually enjoying the music. This was one of their first gigs and they went on first of the night, so they only had about four songs. I shot straight through their set through some terrible lighting (had to punch down the iso to 3200 just to get some shots), and I even leaned against the stage so the moshers who kept running into my back wouldn’t jar my shots.

After the show, I hung around and pretended to care about the next band. They were in the same vein but I didn’t have anything invested in them, so I snuck out. Then I remembered who I was. I called the wife from the car to see if the kid was asleep, and while I did that, club security knocked on my window to make sure I wasn’t some kid doing drugs between sets in the parking lot. Ah, how fun it was to drive back to adulthood.

So, I drive to Sky Harbor Airport and use the cell phone connection to determine my neighbors’ whereabouts. After their baggage is corraled, we meet up outside the south entrance. There is a struggle as the stuff goes in the trunk and I realize my neighbor is in a bit of pain. I hop out to help lift the larger bag and support the old foggies and such … then notice the dude fiddling with his phone. Odd. Oh shit, he’s taking my pic. I look down, then hop back in the car quickly.

The conversation on the way home encompasses my choice of sockwear and we have an interesting discussion regarding fashion faus paus. Yeah, mine. Just. Mine.

My pic ends up posted on Twitter and there is an inside joke circulating about my affiliation with knee high socks. Joy. Pure joy ensues…

However, I am one to see the silver lining amongst the, well crap, I suppose. After a few jokes appear on Twitter, I notice I’m being followed by Chrissy @kneehighsocks09. Awesome! fashion followers.

Shortly thereafter Chrissy sends a direct message that she’d like to send me free socks to review on my blog. Hell yeah! No contest. Free shit rocks! Plus, I collect socks. What can I say. Warm feet rock. Cold feet make me want to shake and cry and huddle under a rock. Essentially, I said yes, please and got notice that the socks were en route.

Now, let’s note that Donna rarely gets packages. Also, let’s note that Donna never gets free stuff in the mail. Both of which make Donna happy. So, let’s just imagine Donna hopping around the house, through the entryway, down the hallway, into her office, etc. with pure joy eminating from her inner being when the package came. You can’t ask for much more than free stuff you actually like and can use.

So, next came the unveiling. One pair: pink and grey. Cool colors, alright, moving on. Next pair: green with white stripe at the top. Alright. also cool. Tube socks are a bit of a worry, but the color is spot-on with my inner Irish chick. Third pair: black argyle with RED accents. Crap. Red. Should’ve mentioned to Chrissy that red is my least favorite color. But, well, I kinda’ like them. (Don’t tell al the people who know I hate red, it will ruin my reputation). The argyle ones also have a foot shape, which is appealing.

Now, when to wear them. Hmmm. Work this week. Nothing to match. What to do?

Priorities overwhelm. Work interferes. Etc. What can I say?

A week passes, then I’m sitting at my desk planning the weekend and wondering how all will get down with the activities I have planned. Then I look to my left and notice the socks. They stare at me with a power I cannot decribe in words. I know that I am behind in what is to be a regret if I do not comply in an appropriate manner. Yes, folks, this is an inside conversation that few with recognize because few of you understand Type A behavior with an obsessive compulsive hook.

Anyhow, I realize that the zoo is a perfect opportunity to wear my first pair of Chrissy’s Knee Socks. I plan my day, move on, and get some sleep.

Now, I must say that in the pandemonium that ensued the next morning, I had doubts and slipped a spare pair of socks into my female-purse (you know, man purse, but for chicks). It was not needed. See below. I rocked the socks. Pink and grey with my pink “Ciao Bello” shirt from Italy. Love it. Was worried about the tube sock shape, but it was not an issue. Also, they stayed up! I did not expect them to. Granted, they did not exactly reach my knees, but they did go pretty far up the calf. Additionally, the socks did not have that elastic that sucks the blood flow out of your extremities. The comfort was perfect. After a couple hours, the one started to be affected by gravity, but it was not an annoyance. I jerked it back upright and all was well. The tube shape was not a factor and, quite frankly, I’m still wearing this pair as I write. At this point, they’ve been keeping my ankles company, but I don’t care. I’ve enjoyed my socks today and that’s not something I get to say on a daily occasion.

Chrissy, you rock! I can’t wait to wear my next two pairs. More to follow…

The first week I forgot about the video, but then I sent it over to Donna and I’m not even sure if Claire’s papa really saw it. Claire just wanted to be silly over break and would only kick and hit to mess around. So, mostly she didn’t practice.

When we returned this weekend, I resigned myself to the fact that she’d probably not get a tip this month and definitely wouldn’t have enough time in to get a new belt. Today I took her home early so she and I could watch the video and try to practice before class tonight. When watching the video, Claire kept trying to do everything backwards because she was standing towards her instructor’s video. She couldn’t get the whole concept of the reflection of the video.

I kept trying to get her to let me show her how to do it, and she kept getting frustrated. She began getting irate and was yelling about how she knew how to do it. I challenged her to show me the moves, but she kept refusing. I finally just took her to class and stopped trying. We had a few errands to run before class, so we got there very early. She was able to watch the classes before hers but she rather played. She kept telling me to leave her alone and she was being really stubborn. I tried to get her to watch the tip testing in the class immediately before hers, but she was yelling and kept trying to get away. I was so mad I was going to spank her and drag her out of there before her class or I’d just let go.

I let her go and she ran onto the mat for her class. I didn’t even watch at first, but then they were practicing the moves. She kept screwing around and her teacher had to stand there with her. Then it was finally tip testing time.

She got up there when it was her time, jumped into position and immediately did the entire routine almost perfectly. Her teacher asked her to repeat her kicks, which she did as best as a 4 1/2 year could. He congratulated her (and not everyone was passing!), gave her high five and sent her back to her seat. She immediately flipped around and gave me a look that said, “What was the worry?”

As she smirked, I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath. After the last kid tested, they all came out to get drinks, and she walked up to me with her hand on her hip and literally said “See Dada, I told you so.”

(Epilogue: It also turned out she has enough hours in to belt test for her white/blue/white belt this weekend.) Oh boy.

He was right. Within a year I was back in his shop. Even though I don’t run off to church weekly, I am religious. I wanted a fish that in part represented fisher of men, but I wanted it to be subtle. I had the letters of the fisher of men built into a koi’s scales, and I went back to same tattooist. That fish went on the inside of my left ankle. By this time my cousin was working on his tattooing more and more and he was cheaper than anyone since he was family. Over the next few years during college he tattooed a red and black tribal son on my left shoulder and a toe ring one weekend when were in Penn State and bored out of our minds. Then it was time for the biggest tattoo: my iguana. I got my iguana tattooed over the course of about five hours initially. I remember lying on my mum’s dining room table while my cousin worked on it. We listened to Toad the Wet Sprocket while he worked and I also took a nap. The tattoo is about 14″ and it’s on the back of my left leg. The final tattoo I got for a really long time was my dream catcher under my tribal sun. I got this as my wife and I began dating, and I’ve not had anything since. Not until now.

This past summer Donna and I traveled to Las Vegas with some friends, and we came very close to getting tattoos. This got me thinking of what I would get. I considered several different ideas; some of them were simpler and others really need to be designed well. It wasn’t the right time, not then.

As I began searching for a good idea this year for presents for my brother and sister, I knew I wanted to get my brother something that he could take with him wherever he went that would always remind him of me. The only thing that could be is a tattoo. It was time, but what would I get? I considered a few ideas and then it came down to something that had a raccoon or my daughter’s name. I wanted something that represented my child, and I highly considered getting her name tattooed across the inside of my left wrist. Donna, frankly, was less than thrilled with the idea. I knew I could cover the tattoo with my watch band when needed. That didn’t convince her.

I had a student design a raccoon tattoo for me that had a scorpion in the center, which I thought represented me well. But when I got home, it just wasn’t doing it for me. I didn’t feel it and I had to feel it. And at this point the only people who knew about the Christmas gift in my family was my wife and mother, and the only reason my mother knew was because she guessed it one morning.

As Christmas break began, I went looking online. I am never one (after tattoo #1) to just get a stock design but I knew I could find ideas online that I could develop and redesign into something. As I searched, Christmas morning arrived. I wrote a nice note in both their Christmas cards announcing my intentions of paying for tattoos for them both. Meghan was nervous but she has two tattoos already, and her tribal sun needed some work so she could be safe and do a touch up. Jaime, who’s always more reserved, didn’t have much to say. I told them I’d find time when we were available to go get a tattoo. I also began figuring out where to go. I emailed a few friends in Pittsburgh but since I didn’t live there in a decade, I wasn’t sure. I also went on Twitter and sent out a message. One person mentioned a tattoo shop in Bloomfield that I considered, but then @corpsefire wrote to me about Shannon Daley at Jester’s Court in Southside. Southside is my old stomping grounds for years so this felt right to me.

Now I needed a design and kept putting it off. Donna initially was getting ink with us, but then she backed out because (I assume) her design wasn’t ready. As I worked on my design and was frustrated, she suggested I just get them theirs and not worry about mine for now. This wasn’t how it would pan out. This was something I was doing with them. It had to be us all.

One problem I had with the raccoon design was that it was circular and there’s not a spot where I felt like it fit on my body. Then I found a really small drawing of a tribal raccoon online, and suddenly I had an idea. This worked for me, but now I needed it designed. I liked the shape and the body, but it needed work to be mine. I grabbed the body and enlarged it. Then began working on the tail that reminded me of the FireFox fox tail (which I thought was kind of cool), but it didn’t feel right to me. I was showing the initial design to my mother and had this circular area in the center that didn’t work. She suggested the @ sign (it’s called an asperand, if you must know), and I loved the idea! A large part of why I was getting the raccoon was because over the years it has become my online identity. Everywhere online I’ve been known as @nooccar now (including this blog), but something was still missing. As I designed, redrew, and worked on that tattoo I showed it to Donna again. She said the ringed design on the tattoo didn’t seem to work and why not go directly with the word “nooccar” built into the tail as the texture. I adored the idea and began working on it. By now I was running out of days in break, since it was December 30th. Over the course of the next four hours into the wee hours of the morning I designed and redesigned the tail. By about 3AM, it was done. I had “NOOCCAR” built into the tail and designed the asperand myself. Donna, her brother and her mother liked it. Suddenly this feeling came over me that this was the design I’d been waiting for and I was ready. I was giddy as I went to bed.

I called Shannon and set up an appointment for the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. All the while I kept asking my brother what he was going to get, and he just kept shrugging and telling me he’d be ready. He’s a man of few words so I had no idea. Meghan was scheduled to work until noon, so she would meet me and Jaime in Southside. When Jaime picked me up at my in-laws, he looked down at my design and said “that’s what I’m getting”. If I had any idea he was planning on getting the same tattoo as me, then I would’ve designed him a generic tattoo. I was completely touched that he wanted to get the same tattoo as me but the “@nooccar” built into it wouldn’t do it for him. I showed him the design closer and he agreed we needed to change that.

Meghan arrived as Jaime and I walked into Jester’s Court to meet with Shannon Daley. I showed her my design and explained that we wanted change the tail. She agreed and went to draw up the patterns. At the eleventh hour Meghan decided a touchup wasn’t significant enough; this was a gift from me to her and she needed to do something special and new. Meghan had a Celtic swirling circle design that she came in with, and I asked her what that represented for her. She went on for several minutes explaining the significance, and I liked her ideas. It was time to begin and we made Meghan go first since she was the youngest. She wasn’t too thrilled.

Shannon set up the workstation and got out a huge padded table out from behind a row of arcade machines. Meghan stripped off her boots and climbed onto the table. She was worried about the pain, but as Shannon began to tattoo the swirls onto Meghan’s leg Meghan was surprised by the lack of pain. She was ok with it. While we waited, Jaime played Galaga and I shot these and other photos. Meghan’s tattoo took about 90 minutes because the swirls were continual. When it was completed, Meghan was thrilled with Shannon’s work.

Jaime wanted this tattoo on his left leg near where he had another tattoo from the artwork inside of L7’s Bricks are Heavy CD cover. I had suggested the right leg so we could get them in the same area, but he was set on the left. This later surprised me because we had Shannon put them in the same exact place but on balanced ankles, which worked well in the end. Jaime did very well and his work didn’t take long at all. Shannon explained that continual circles and clean lines of Meghan’s swirls. Jaime finished up and I loved the work she did on it.

When I got to the tattoo shop, the smells came back to me. The ointment, the soaps, etc… and it all came back to me. When it was my turn I lay down and prepared my self. I remember the biting needles and the shading/coloring hurting a little more than the line art. I won’t lie, the bottom of my tattoo hurt near the top of my Achille’s Heel where it was more tender, but it wasn’t anything unbearable. Jaime’s tattoo and my tattoo both took half the time of Meghan’s because they weren’t symmetrical. Shannon went over the care instructions with the three of us, she finished my tattoo which turned out wonderful, and then we thanked her.

Below are some of my favorite shots of the day.

Meghan shot this photo as Shannon prepped my tattoo.

I love the composition here of me, Meghan and Michael Patrick, another tattooist working that day.

Shannon as she began my tattoo.

Shannon finishing up Jaime’s tattoo.

Shannon working on Meghan’s tattoo.

I walked from the Hot Metal Bridge area near Cheese Cake Factory down to Primanti’s at 19th Street. Primanti’s is a staple of Pittsburgh, and I got my favorite Pastrami no tomatoe add egg extra cheese and a Yeungling. Yum! I wolfed down the food, pulled my hat over my ears and kept going. It was dark out, and I had called my sister to meet me after work near the mall by my parent’s where the trolley terminated. At 14th street I walked into The Beehive where I use to spend almost every evening when I was in grad school and some years in high school; it’s changed a bit since then, but it always has memories for me. I got a coffee to warm up, shot some photos of my DSLR shoved in my coat, and walked outside. I stopped across the street where there use to be a bank that was now a bar. After 20 minutes of waiting and tweeting from my phone to record my journey, the bus came. I flashed my mum’s pass and road down towards Station Square.

After jumping from the bus, I ran across East Carson to the trolley. I shot some photos while waiting 10 minutes for the trolley to the Village. Then I went to send another message, but no phone. Uh oh. No PHONE! I checked my pockets. Got my iTouch, point&shoot, wallet, bus pass, Canon, scraps of paper, gloves, and hat. NO PHONE! Trolley came. I didn’t get on. I let it pass by me, and I retraced my steps back across the busy road, looking for a smashed BlackBerry in the road. Nothing. I looked at everyone on a phone and wonderered. Then I walked back up the trolley ramp. The next one came. I got on. I’d given up. I sat down and waited for my stop 20 minutes later.

Across the aisle was a lady chatting away on the phone about only God knows what, and when she hanged up I asked if I could use her phone to call my ride. She agreed but then her stop came up as it rang. I handed it back, and thanked her. I sat there wondering if my sister, Meghan, would be there to pick me up in the cold winter night. I finally walked to the front of the train and asked a man if I could use his BlackBerry; he agreed.

I called Meghan, she answered, and immediately said “they found your phone!” My heart lept. I told her I was close and almost there. She said she’d been waiting. I jumped from the trolley after wondering if I had to shell out hundreds for a new phone and climbed into her car. She told me the bus driver had my phone and it’d be at the Collier Garage after midnight. I asked where the hell the Collier Garage was. Meghan said it was in Bridgeville, which wasn’t far from my parent’s new place. I texted my mum from Meghan’s phone and since she use to live in the area, said she’d drive me later.

At 11:40pm we left for Bridgeville and I walked into the Port Authority Transit dispatch at midnight with my ID card. As the man handed over my phone, he said no one usually picked up lost and found that quickly and he wished me a Merry Christmas.

Yes Virigina, There still are nice people in this world.