DADAPRENEUR :: Observations, Opinions, Objections and Obsessions of (Vol. 3, [another] Stream of Consciousness)

It was the evening of the 21st, December, 2017. Emma, our second, is merely hours old. The first night of four that I would live in room 456 in the Preston building at Pennsylvania Hospital.

My wife Stefanie was doing her best to catch a few Zs. Emma slumbered beside her in the standard issue, transparent, Tupperware-like (sans lid), bin, swaddled of course.

Knowing that a faux leather recliner would be my bed for a few days, coupled with the adrenaline from seeing a human join planet Earth, may have been the reasons I was  obsessively pacing the floor; stir crazy.

I recall gazing from hallway windows, overlooking 8th Street, just below Spruce, pondering the ever changing path that we carve along this amazing journey that is life.

Why?

Ironically, while we were celebrating Emma’s birth, on the third floor, opposite the L&D wing, in the CCU, my great uncle Joe DeQuinque would struggle to gain consciousness as his body battled severe infection.

With emotions rushing around my psyche, I opt to take a seat in the hall before heading back to my cell our suite. It was a 20 something black fellow. He sported a big beard and wide leg jeans cut about mid calf. He was pushing a dark gray industrial hamper on wheels. I zeroed in on his glances from jump street. I thought to myself…
“A fan?” 
Ha.

No. all delusions aside, I wondered if my junk was hanging out. Really. I under packed for the sentence stay as per my usual modus operandi. So, I decided to ration my unmentionables; commando style. My fly coulda been down. It wasn’t. Maybe it was a boogie on my shirt. A cockroach on my shoulder? Or somebody I wronged in the past and dude’s got a hollow point with my name on it?

Obviously, paranoia began to settle in my already jacked up head.

Room by room the guy would dump linens and throw a glare in my direction as he neared. The closer he got the more I squirmed in my seat, in my skin. I mean I couldn’t punk out and go back to the suite. In fight or flight situations I’ve always been one to scrap it out. However, those days are long long gone. Like college days gone. Interestingly, one of my recurring nightmares is one where I’m in a fight and my punches are slow, weak and ineffective.

I digress.

The moment of truth arrives. This cat is inches from me and our eyes lock. He proceeds to open his mouth…
“You ever see Criminal Intent? Law and order?”
I reply,
“Nah.” 
He goes on,
“Yo, you look just like Goren! The detective.” 

I say,
“Yeah, sorry man. I haven’t seen that show in a long time.”
He continues,
“It’s crazy yo. Goren.” 
He disappears down the corridor and into another room.

I try to let it go but with some fair amount of narcissism in my veins, am unable to shake the curiosity of who Goren actually is.

Moments later, I’m back by my wife’s bedside, holding the fragile new life that is Emma.  I try to dismiss the dialogue but can’t seem to shake it. So with Emma in one arm and my iPhone in the other, I break down and Google Criminal Intent. 

FML! Pyle?!!!!

Fucking Goren is Private Pyle?!?!

Vincent D’Onofrio may have aged like a fine bottle of wine but no matter what context I see him in these days, I can only think…

HARTMAN stops in front of PYLE and notices his footlocker is unlocked. He picks up the lock and 
holds it up to PYLE.

HARTMAN
     Jesus H. Christ! Private Pyle, why is your footlocker unlocked?

PYLE
     Sir, I don't know, sir!

HARTMAN
     Private Pyle,if there is one thing in this world that I hate,it is an unlocked footlocker!
     You know that, don't you?

PYLE
     Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN
     If it wasn't for dickheads like you, there wouldn't be any thievery in this world,would
     there?

PYLE
     Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN
     Get down!

PYLE steps down, from the footlocker. HARTMAN flips open the lid with a bang and begins 
rummaging through the box.

HARTMAN
     Well, now ... let's just see if there's anything missing!

HARTMAN freezes. He reaches down and slowly picks up a jelly doughnut, holding it in disgust at
arm's length with his fingertips.

HARTMAN
     Holy Jesus! What is that? What is that, Private Pyle?!

PYLE
     Sir, a jelly doughnut, sir!

HARTMAN
     A jelly doughnut?!

PYLE
     Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN
     How did it get here?

PYLE
     Sir, I took it from the mess hall, sir!

HARTMAN
    Is chow allowed in the barracks, Private Pyle?

PYLE
    Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN
     Are you allowed to eat jelly doughnuts, Private Pyle?

PYLE
     Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN
     And why not, Private Pyle?

PYLE
     Sir, because I'm too heavy, sir!

HARTMAN
     Because you are a disgusting fatbody, Private Pyle!

PYLE
     Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN
     Then why did you hide a jelly doughnut in your footlocker, Private Pyle?

PYLE
     Sir, because I was hungry, sir!

HARTMAN
     Because you were hungry?

Holding out the jelly doughnut, HARTMAN walks down the row of recruits still standing with 
their arms outstretched.

HARTMAN
     Private Pyle has dishonored himself and dishonored the platoon! I have tried to help
     him, but I have failed! I have failed because you have not helped me! You people have not
     given Private Pyle the proper motivation! So, from now on, whenever Private Pyle fucks up, 
     I will not punish him, I will punish all of you! And the way I see it, ladies, you owe me 
     for one jelly doughnut! Now, get on your faces!

HARTMAN(to PYLE)
     Open your mouth!

He shoves the jelly doughnut into PYLE's mouth.

HARTMAN
     They're paying for it, you eat it!

HARTMAN turns to the recruits.

HARTMAN
     Ready ...exercise!

The platoon does push-ups.


Remember that?

Can you feel me now?

Again, he may be a sexy dude now but Pyle? I remind someone of Pyle? Aye Dios mios.

Well, at the end of the day, nothing could break the natural high that is our brining a second daughter into the world.

With Emma, Harper and Stefanie, oh, and Bruno, shit’s pretty fly.

Thank you for enduring my S.O.C. Actually wasn’t too long minus the screenplay excerpt. So there’s that.

OOOOH. Almost forgot.

NERD FILE ::

That lead in photo is actually a framegrab or screengrab or whatever you prefer to call it. I filmed just about the entire C-section with full permission. Be on the lookout for the final edit for your graphic viewing pleasure.

Happy New Year!!!

Until next time…

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