Part 24: East Brunswick

I woke up and walked across the street to the Wawa where I ordered a beef cheesesteak hoagie and a large Dr. Pepper. After eating in the parking lot, I went back to the hotel to get some work done on the computer and watched some college football on the television.

Around four o’clock, I jumped into the traffic jam on NJ 18, snaking into New Brunswick. I parked my rental in a parking garage downtown and found the shuttle bus to High Point Solutions Stadium for the game between the Rutgers Scarlet Knights and the Michigan State Spartans. I did not buy a ticket ahead of time, and was worried I would not get into the stadium since a scalper scene was nonexistent. Luckily, I found a ticket booth and bought a ticket at face value two hours before kickoff.

I sat in the front row of the upper deck. Being early October, the weather even at night was still manageable in short sleeves. People on this part of the East Coast have a reputation for being assholes, s what surprised me was how friendly the local fans were. The Spartans won 31-24 in a close game to remain undefeated.

After the game, I could not find the shuttle that had brought me to the stadium, so I ended up walking about two miles in the dark back to where I parked my car in New Brunswick. I wanted to hit some college bars to see what the Rutgers coeds looked like, but I was so tired and had to be at the airport in Newark in a few hours. I usually ignore my better judgment, but for once I obeyed it. When I got back to the hotel, I walked across the street to the Wawa I had eaten lunch at to get a hot sandwich and a large Dr. Pepper, heavy on the ice. There were a lot of fans from the game in there with the same idea. After eating, I passed out on my bed for a few hours, before waking up and driving north to Newark Liberty International Airport. I had been in New Jersey less than thirty-six hours.

High Point Solutions Stadium, Rutgers University

Part 23: East Brunswick

I had been working like crazy the past few months, so I decided to make a weekend trip to New Jersey to enjoy some drinking, womanizing, and football.

I got out of work early, around noon, and headed to Midway Airport. The Southwest Airlines flight was supposed to depart around 14:30, but rainy weather delayed the flight. Eventually, we boarded the plane and sat over an hour before taking off due to bad storms in New Jersey. I was supposed to be in Newark by 17:30, but arrived three hours late due to the delays. It took me another hour to drive my Chevrolet Malibu rental down the New Jersey Turnpike to my hotel, the Comfort Suites.

After a late dinner at a Burger King, a hamburger on a black bun (special for Halloween), I decided to go looking for some trouble. If I had gotten into town sooner, I would have tried to have found a boardwalk. Since it was late, I was going to settle for a bar. Driving up NJ 35, I saw the large neon lights of Club XXXV, so I decided to check it out.

I was charged $5 to park in a gravel parking lot. When I was extensively searched for weapons at the entrance by a dude that looked like Danny Trejo, I knew this club was going to be ghetto. After a $25 cover due to the club being BYOB, I made it into the club. My admission included a free drink, so I gave the drink ticket to a waitress and told her to get me a Coke. She comes back and tries to charge me $5.

I tell her, “I gave you my drink ticket just a minute ago.” I knew she was trying to play dumb and hustle me.

She gives me a blank stare. I give her a single just so she will go away.

So I had spent $31, and there is absolutely nowhere to sit. The club was packed mostly with young thugs trying to act like they are in a hip hop video. The dancers are mostly Hispanic, black, and Eastern European. The few odd white dancers appear to be Italians from Staten Island.

After standing awkwardly for ten minutes, I chat with a dancer named Coco. She has big fake tits and an ass to match. She is the type of dancer Papi Chulo from TUSCL would lust over. She tried to tell me lap dances cost $30 when they were actually $20, so I corrected her. Since the lap dance area was just a claustrophobic narrow corridor, I opted for the $125 VIP room by the second song. Once the curtain is closed, Coco pulls my jeans down and worships my pork sword. After briefly lap dancing, she puts a jimmy on and takes me in her mouth. She knows what she is doing, and moments later I release what I can no longer hold back.

I take off and head north towards Perth Amboy, but pull off at The Den, just before reaching the bridge over the Raritan. I almost walked in without paying the cover because the door attendant was no paying attention. The club does not serve alcohol, so I ordered a Coke. The big butt Boricua bartender didn’t charge me for my drink, nor the numerous times I asked for a refill. I am not sure if this is standard or she was cutting me a break. She was charging other guys $5 for Costco bottled water. I watched the show at The Den for an hour, but was not overly impressed. The few dancers that I might have gotten a dance from were on lockdown with regulars.

I was insanely tired by this point, having been awake about twenty-one hours. I decided to call it a night and head back to my hotel.

Dancer from Club XXXV