Having completed a 24-hour dry out, we are heading west for an overnight at the home of the of the Stardust Shrink, nestled somewhere in the woods of Pennsylvania (not to be confused with his beautiful oceanfront plain house in Cape May) for a bit of revelry with Stardust and some of his friends. We will be accompanied by my bodyguard Ken, the Anal Cruise Director, and Mrs. Ken, the Deckmistress.

We’ll only need a change of clothes, so we can pack light. Besides, we’ll need the room in the car for the Usual Suspects’ signature shitload of booze, wine and beer Traveling Bar. We don’t leave home without it.

Oh, and did I mention that the Stardust Shrink is also a guitar player? Therefore, I will also be bringing along my beloved Gibson dreadnaught, and we’ll be doing some tunes. Based on my experience in having done a couple duets with this infamous Jawja guitar picker armed with his Martin, Stardust’s Martin guitar and my Gibson should sound pretty farookin’ good together.

As long as there is no homemade Georgia moonshine wine on the premises, I should be able to go the distance.