I arrived at Mecca sometime on Sunday afternoon. You might be surprised to realize that Mecca is in New Jersey, but it is. Mecca is a place called Red Bank, where a man called Kevin lives, and works, where some of the greatest work in film was concieved and seen to fruition. Stephanie and I walked the hallowed streets of Red Bank, our eyes feasting upon the holy sites that lay there, Jack’s Music Shoppe, The Red Bank Catholic High School, and of course Jay and Silent Bob’s Secret Stash. I am almost wet myself. Had I wet myself it might have been quite a scene though, so I held back accordingly.
A great wedding it was previous to this, a wonderful and beautiful thing, that because of the groom had to be part-Catholic (can’t blame him though… Catholicism, like thinning hair is only hereditary), but was a joy to witness nonetheless. A fun time was had by all, and it turned into, essentially a Six Week Reunion for the Bradford College Class of 1999 (well, at least some of us, and come to think of it, not the ones I really really wanted to see, which is not to say anything bad about those who were in attendance, but rather to suggest that my best of friends from Bradford were nowhere in sight because they aren’t really acquaintances with the girl, Tara, who was gittin’ hitched.) There was drinking and food, and food, and really, to be blunt, too much food. We stayed in a fancy hotel and we slept in late, and then we went to Red Bank, to visit the Promised Land.
Kevin Smith is my idol. As a playwright, I aspire to have the sense of comic timing the man seems to have no need to work at. His work is some of the stuff that has most influenced my style over the last few years, and if we disregard the fact that I fell asleep the first time I watched Clerks, (which was really Ken’s fault, the bastard for making us watch Mallrats first,) I might even be able to lay claim to the title of HIS BIGGEST FAN. And seeing as how we were already in Jersey, I figured why not visit? We saw Quick Stop and RST Video, and the Marina Diner (where Silent Bob tells the Amy story in Chasing Amy,) and lots of other fun stuff.
The only thing I regret about going to New Jersey is the bagels, and how shagarific they were. (Can bagels be shagarific?) But I’ll save that story for tommorow.