So I’ve been working out of the New Haven office for the past few weeks, as they’re doing asbestos abatement in the Bridgeport courthouse.
They haven’t actually closed the courthouse—they’re being very careful with the asbestos abatement, since if they aren’t, they’re gonna get sued when someone comes down with mesothelioma—but they have shut down parts of the HVAC system, which makes our office unbearably hot in the afternoons. So most of the Bridgeport office has been temporarily transferred to New Haven.
So, last night, 3/5 of the Bridgeport bar met up in a local New Haven bar after work. There we met up with a former law clerk who, as it turns out, works in an asbestos defense firm. Small world, eh?
So we’re sitting there, talking about law and the fact that asbestos cases pretty much always settle (I don’t think that I’m giving any trade secrets away here) when it turns out that another part at the same bar has a pair of behind-home-plate tickets to last nights’ Mets’ game. At this point, it was 6:30.
To make a very long story shorter, I ended up buying the tickets for $20, driving to Shea (72 miles, according to Google maps), getting stuck in traffic, but arriving just in time to watch the Metropolitans score 4 runs and put the game away. Not bad, eh?
And then after the game Ken Goldstein and I got lost in Queens looking for Jackson Heights, but that’s another story for another time….