Today was the one day that the city of Utica briefly appears on the map before sinking back into comatose obscurity--the occasion of the annual Boilermaker Road Race. People come to town from all over the world to participate in the 14 K run--the course of which passes right in front of my house. Then, after having a few of our fine local beers at 10 am or so (the brewery is the finish line) they haul ass before our bad vibes (also world-famous) begin to interfere with their "runner's high."

In characteristic fashion, I contrived to sleep through the whole thing--not an easy feat, considering that some civic-minded soul pulls his car up to the corner and blasts rock music to "raise the morale" of the runners. To remain unconscious during this local festival, I stayed up past 5 am, got very drunk, and slept in the middle bedroom with the air conditioner turned on. The only jarring moment was when an Air Force jet (ostensibly not flown by Airman Bush) swooped low over the city, sounding as if it were about to hit the house and releasing a series of sonic booms. (Your tax $$$ at play.) But for that, the "toiletbreaker" rolled past me with hardly a murmur.