On Friday morning, December 9th I will be driving the teen bride to JFK. She and some friends and relatives will be flying to the Dominican Republic for a vacation. Dominicans by the thousands overstay their visas in New York and many more get to Mexico to jump the border and get to New York for great handouts in the Sanctuary City.

I explained to the wife that she could save thousands in airfare and hotel bills by grabbing an IRT 7th Avenue train or an 8th Avenue IND train to get up to the far reaches of the west side of Manhattan. There, I told her she could be raped and robbed by Dominicans while saving tons of money with the flights and hotel. Several months before I went into the Marine Corps in November of 1965 a brigade of Marines landed ashore in the Dominican Republic to stop the killings out of a coup that wanted to topple the backwards government.

The wife has the dough and tells me that she is booked into a "safe resort enclave" and that I needn't worry about her. She's been all over the planet but has never been to the Dominican Republic. Yeah well I knew some Marines that were in a "safe enclave" for down time away from bad people that went home in body bags.

She'll drive us to JFK and I'll drive home to three cats. I'll hump her luggage to the curb at the terminal and wish her a safe trip with a kiss. I'll hug her and pat her on the rump but I wish she'd go traveling to some place that isn't in the third world and shares an island with the disease-ridden Haiti. Hey, that's just me. Traveling for a warm muffin and a newspaper in the morning and maybe traveling less than a mile for beer and cat food piles up all the miles I want now.

Been there and it is a great place to hang out. Drinks, foot rubs, back rubs, leg rubs, and rubs everywhere. Love that place

Rubs like at Mama No-No's are OK I suppose but the girl I love won't have a .45 pistol or two Marine riflemen at the door from Alabama and Kansas.