I looked up the word ‘Jitney’ in the encyclopedia. It means ‘shared taxi’ and are used primarily in developing countries. It also says that they often are privately owned, have an anarchic operating style and lack central control or organization. It refers to them here in the US as the equivalent of dollar vans. Had I known all that a few days ago I would never have suggested we take the jitney from the Borgata in Atlantic City.
My husband and I went to the Borgata because I was invited to participate in a slots tournament. Me and 10,000 other people. But the oversized postcard that came proclaiming me as one of the ‘selected few’ convinced me to go. That and the free room they offered me. King sized bed, great view, comp breakfast….heaven. Or not!
We drove to AC on Thursday with a planned stop at the Corvette dealership where we bought my sons car two years ago. They have a little museum that my husband wanted to see and missed in 2007 when we bought my son’s Vette. The museum was there, I think my husband was just in sticker shock when we bought an atomic orange Corvette and he completely forgot to check out the museum before we drove off.
The Atlantic City Expressway…Exit 2.…right off the exit. Easy to get to. If the exit hadn’t been closed and the detour wasn’t ridiculously hard to follow. As we passed exit 2 and followed the detour off exit 1 I knew we would get lost. I am probably the last hold out for a navigation system. Even my new cell phone doesn’t have it. (or does it..?) Exit 1 took us under a tunnel over a bridge and passed windmills that harnessed….wind, I guess. The neighborhood was getting beachy and beautiful and clean. We certainly weren’t in the outskirts of Atlantic City any longer. The town was called Brigantine and it was beautiful. But it wasn’t where we looking to go. We drove for about a mile until we came to THE END sign and u-turned. We asked some guys fishing how to get to the Corvette dealership which we weren’t surprised they knew. Way off track, they explained how to get to where we had intended, passed the windmills, over the bridge and back under the tunnel….but from there they had no street names. Turn right at Angelino’s Italian restaurant, another right by the closed Lukoil gas station….then a left….maybe. We backtracked as instructed, looked for Angelino’s, gave up and headed for the Borgata valet parking area. The valet knew where we wanted to go and gave us perfect directions…we found the Vette dealership and in doing so we also found Angelino’s. Passed the windmills, under the tunnel but NOT over the bridge into Brigantine. The museum amounted to no more than old cars, older cars, new cars, used cars, red cars and blue cars but mainly over priced was-this-really-worth-it cars. For my husband it was, for me the slots were calling.
The slot tournament room was 200 degrees but since you only play for 6 minutes and they gave you free coffee, beverages, cookies and brownies…who cares? I could tell by my score that I wasn’t going to score in the top 22 prize spots, but the Yankees were playing that night and possibly clinching the ALCS. Life is good!
My husband came up with a good idea, let’s leave the beautiful all inclusive Borgata with it’s 5 star restaurants and renowned bars and go to an Irish Pub we ate at like 3 years ago on the Boardwalk. They have $1 beers….enough said. I called the bar ahead of time to be sure they would have the game on to which they assured me they would. They never mentioned that there was only one TV, it was a 26 inch black and white, and they were all Phillies fans. But I am getting ahead of myself.
I remembered from my last trip to the Borgata that they have a jitney that takes you from the marina to the boardwalk hotels. I asked the bell services captain where to get it and when he didn’t know and had to look on a map I should have guessed this wasn’t gonna be a noteworthy experience. The jitney was just outside the parking entrance and there was one just about to leave when we got there. We got on thinking it was free, but the handful of dollars in the drivers hand prompted me to ask…how much? $2.50 each…so much for ‘dollar vans’. Before we even had time to sit down the driver peeled out, throwing us to our seats and we were on our way. It was probably the only time I truly wanted to wear a seat belt. The jitney bumped and bucked as it was maneuvered through the streets of AC. The first stop was Harrah’s and every one got off except for us. I asked the driver if he went to St James Place which is where the Irish Pub is. He assured us he did in a tone reminiscent of the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. I sat down like a good passenger and awaited his direction. To me it seemed like we were going in the opposite direction of the area we needed to go, passing the hotels that our map said were next to the Pub, and it seemed like the neighborhood was getting worse and worse. There we were at night in a well lit mini bus, driving through a rather downtrodden neighborhood, basically screaming….WE HAVE MONEY, WE ARE HERE TO GAMBLE, WE HAVE MONEY. When the bus finally stopped at the corner of St James Place and Atlantic Avenue (so they really did name Monopoly after Atlantic City….cool!) the driver told us that the Irish Pub was around the corner. We got off, barely, before he peeled out of the stop and left us on our own. The people that milled around looked homeless and desperate. I could just feel the knife in my side, the gun muzzle to my head. I wanted to turn that corner and run to the Pub but my husband had to tie his shoe. As we turned the corner we could see the Irish Pub sign in the distance. The long, long block that we had to navigate was nothing more than empty lots, boarded up houses, hourly rate hotels, garbage and broken glass. I wanted to pick up the pace, but Chester had to tie his shoe AGAIN! I told him to double knot the damn thing and please walk faster. He said ‘calm down’ (pissing me off even more) I told him if we had just stayed at the Borgata we wouldn’t be in this mess….he walked a little faster reminding me that it was my idea to take the jitney that left us here. If anyone had contemplated killing us they would have waited first to see if we were going to kill each other. You and your $1 beers! You said the jitney was good! The game is starting and I am gonna miss Jeter! Calm down!
We arrived at the Pub. The game was on as promised, but the TV couldn’t be seen from anywhere other than the bar, where you couldn’t eat. We contemplated leaving but decided to have my daughter text message me the score as we ate and figured out how to get back to the Borgata without getting mugged or killing each other. I could tell the Yankees were losing early on since the people that could see the TV were clapping and hooting….Phillies fans. The food was fine and the beers were no longer a dollar but the waitress called us a cab that took us door to door back to the Borgata. We went to the bar located in the middle of the casino floor and amidst the clouds of throat closing cigar smoke and half dressed barmaids we drank $7 beers and watched the Yankees lose in one of the best games I have seen.
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