(backdated for chronological unity)
Owing to the weirdness of United's flight schedules out of Louisville, we elected to spend a relatively inexpensive Wednesday evening in Newark, New Jersey, rather than endure eight hours waiting inside the city's airport on Thursday. As such, there'd be four or five hours to explore downtown Newark on Thursday morning and early afternoon, prior to the transatlantic flight.
Granted, Newark may not enjoy the finest reputation among holiday destinations, but even with New York City a scant eight miles away, it seemed fitting to take a look at the urban scene closest to the lodging. There's always something interesting, everywhere.
The night man at the front desk of the Robert Treat Hotel was quick to recommend Ferry Street as the best destination, and so the plan of action was clear: Following a good night's sleep on Wednesday amid the hotel's strange and dated elegance, we would embark upon an orientation hike the following morning.
However, what I didn't count on was the subliminal effect of reading a magazine article about Newark native Frankie Valli, and his group The Four Seasons. Merely seeing the names of songs caused them to begin playing in my brain, especially this unfortunate hit from 1975 -- not 1963.
Not the way I'd have chosen to begin a European trip, musically speaking.
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