I’m madder than a hyena with a missing funny bone over the fact that drivers at the public trust that gets me from point “a” to point “z” can’t find the place I’m at unless I’m sitting behind them screaming like a hyena to tell them where to go!
Look, you all know that the ol’Screecher gets around town three ways — chauffeured by my lovely but lead-footed wife Sharon (which is like putting my life in her hands, and the only hands I want my life in are my own); behind the wheel of my trusty stead Tornado; or in the back of one of those fancy Access-A-Ride vans that take me wherever I want to go whenever I want for just a subway token.
So you can understand how angry I get when someone other than myself gets lost on the way to one of the important events that have requested my presence, or can’t find the place they are supposed to pick me up!
And that’s exactly what happened on Oct. 6 when I was invited to attend the Federation of Italian-American Organizations 32nd Annual Brooklyn Columbus Parade Brunch, which was held this year at the fabulous banquet hall at the Dyker Beach Golf Course.
Getting there, of course, was not a problem, because anybody who’s everybody that has lived in Bay Ridge, Dyker Heights, or Bensonhust knows exactly where the place it — despite the fact that its address is 1030 86th St., and the building itself isn’t anywhere near the busy boulevard. I mean, every Christmas the building gets lit up like a Hanukkah Bush, and you can’t miss it from a mile away.
Not to mention the fact that all the locals know that it actually sits on DeRussy Drive, the uncharted street that leads through the golf course, which is anything but 86th Street! I mean, who out there doesn’t realize that the road between 86th Street and Seventh Avenue is named for General Rene Edward DeRussy (1789–1865) who, according to local lore and a little thing called the Wackopedia, was an engineer, military educator, and career United States Army officer who was responsible for erecting many Eastern coastal fortifications. He served as Superintendent of the United States Military academy and was promoted to brigadier general during the Civil War. DeRussy helped design and build Fort Hamilton in 1825, which is likely why he was remembered by a street name here and forts throughout the nation, not to mention that junior high school on Channel 13 in the 1980s. DeRussy lived on a hill that became Dyker Heights, and also supervised the construction of the New Utrecht Reform Church in 1826. But he is buried at West Point, and not at the Nurk, which is what all the locals call it.
But as usual, I digress.
Getting to the place, of course, was easy. That’s because whenever I take the Access-A-Ride, I strategically position myself in line of site of the road, within a foot of the driver’s ear, and with my fingers in a ready-to-press position on Tornado’s horn so I can tell him the second he makes a wrong move.
“MAKE A LEFT HERE!” I shout when he’s about to pass the entrance to the golf course on 86th Street, while slamming on my trusty stead’s voice box. “NOW! NOW! NOW!”
That usually gets the driver to do exactly what I want, as it did in this case, and I happily greeted my friend Luigi Rosabianca, the principal and founder of Rosabianca Associates.
Seeing Luigi’s name on the list of honored guests gave Sharon and me the desire to go. We met Luigi and his sister Andrianna 16 years ago on our first trip through Sicily that the Federation organized. Jack Spattola and Nancy Sottile, the organizers, gave us a trip that never, ever could be equaled (although we would jump at a similar trip if offered). I wrote a couple of columns about it and would be glad to e-mail them to you if you want one. Let me know at my e-mail, diegovega@aol.com.
So everything was fine up until the point I had to leave. I called up the Access-A-Ride, and tried to explain to the nitwits over there that the building isn’t actually on 86th Street, but inside the golf course.
I asked them to pick me up at 4:15, not knowing that the brunch would be over way before then. As a matter of fact, about 3:50 pm, an army of waiters and bus boys were setting up for the next affair that evening. With time to kill, I considered heading over to Nathan’s across the street, because I always carry those 99¢ coupons that let me get those delicious hot dogs on the cheap!
But I was worried that the driver was going to get lost, and low and behold I was right (which I am about 99 percent of the time).
Sure enough, I spotted the van circling around looking for an address that didn’t exist. So Tornado and I scooted like the wind, with me yelling to get the driver’s attention, just as he was about to drive away. I hopped in and yelled at him the whole way home.
Hopefully, he’ll never make that mistake again.
Screech at you next week!
