Everything is still mixed up in my head from the crazy way I ended up on the East coast until my long drawn out escape. Major lessons learned were to keep my mouth shut in a social situation until you've taken the room's temperature, and always have an exit. Seriously. Always have an exit. Lest you end up a poor golly without an exit.
I was watching the godfather on TV the other night, and I've watched that movie maybe 100 times. Not because I'm a godfather aficionado, but TV stations must have licensed it on the cheap back in the day. I also remember watching a lot of the original superman movie and rocky, but my time in Jersey always reminds me of the godfather.
While Easterners do have a sense of humor, it tends to be a depreciating, insult fueled sense of humor. Lots of getting called a meatball, worthless, that type of poo. Or maybe that was just Tom, my Uncle's business partner.
The whole sale on shipping me to Jersey happened behind my back, and on paper it sounds bless'ed terrific. A family job, a strict social structure to keep me from slipping back into my depression cocoon, and a major step out of the comfort zone. And if it had stayed in those lines, I would have been good, if not happy.
People have compared my uncle to Tony Soprano in the past. I don't really see that. I see Peter Clemenza from godfather. A fairly miserable look is pretty much etched into the man's face. One might think that fate has frowned on him, but in reality he's made his own bed his own way. I occasionally thought I would end up like Paulie. Maybe not dead, but certainly bent over. And it was true. It's been written off as an innocent bbq by those involved, but I was there, and there wasn't any bless'ed food.
Plenty of booze though, and with booze comes bad situations.
Without going into too much detail, I found the bless'ed exit I was looking for, over a locked fence. This was short term though. I was picked up by the police. Surprisingly, they turned me right over to my Uncle. I was drunk as poo at the time, and did not realize that I had been relieved of my cell phone.
Once we got back to the house, I was told that I was on lockdown, to keep my mouth shut and my bless'ed head down. I told my uncle I didn't trust him and that I bless'ed quit. He disagreed with this point most vehemently, and I lost the argument up against pavement.
But I'm not a complete hillbilly. Every tip I had from work was hidden carefully, in my sock. I used some of that money to catch a cab to my Aunt's house. A couple months of sit and wait, and I was able to get back to CA.
NJ really is a whole 'nother bless'ed world to this California boy, and if I'm lucky, I won't ever have to go back.
To clear things up, I do not think my Uncle is connected to any criminal organizations.