Along similar lines to the ‘in Chicago the restaurants are mostly closed by ten PM‘ observation: the bars in this town all close at 2. What the hell? What kinda burg is this?

The 400 was, in a sense, a huge success. I mean, I did it in 5:55.something, which is, if not the fastest I’ve ever done, certainly the fastest I’ve done it in a good while. And that felt good. I got disqualified along the way, unfortunately: a bad turn at the halfway point of the backstroke did me in. But I’m not going to fret overmuch, because what tripped me up was a point of order which we as a team had not really understood. I was not the only New Yorker to get caught in that particular net today. On the other hand, I sought out a full explanation afterwards of what the hell went wrong, and communicated it to my teammates, and a later swimmer swears that my explanation made the difference between getting tossed out of the standings and the gold medal he won later. So my brave sacrifice was worth something in the end. (Donations to the author’s memorial fund may be sent in care of his website.)

And now I’m done! Huzzah. First thing tomorrow, I’ll be picking up a life-size rubber skeleton for the Pink Flamingo; but for now, I’m off to bed.