(With apologies to Ian Frazier)
Look, the last thing I wanted to do was move the family out of New York City. We liked it there, we had a good circle of friends, and the cultural opportunities were endless. I can't even tell you all the great music we heard. All genres. Just great stuff, and I was glad the kids were getting exposed to it. Plus, I mean, Central Park. You've been there, right? We summered there. Every year. Freakin' awesome. Life was great.
Then the Sully plane thing hit. Or, more to the point, one of us hit the Sully plane.
Let's get this straight: I don't even know the jerkoffs who did that. I've got a sneaking suspicion about who the responsible parties were (if they come from the family I'm thinking of, let's just say none of us are really surprised), but I'm not the type of goose to take part in rumor mongering. No sir. Plus, I mean, whatever happened to "no harm, no foul"? I realize it was a traumatic experience for everybody on board, and, I'm sorry for their troubles, but they all lived, right? And Sully and his crew got to be on Letterman and throw out first pitches and probably received all sorts of perks they never would've seen if, let's face it, two of our own hadn't made them celebrities. I mean, am I crazy to say that? Because we're all thinking it, I'll tell you that much.
Sorry. I didn't mean to go off on a rant there. It's just frustrating that's all. The point I wanted to make before I got all sidetracked was that, regardless of who was at fault, you can't hold all of us responsible for the actions of a few rogue geese. It's not fair.
But, fairness be damned, that's just what happened, and soon we were reading in the newspapers that we were now Public Enemy #1, and that plans were being made to "control" the goose population around New York City. Well, that was all I needed to hear. So the gander and I rounded up our 11 goslings (where's my reality TV show, bitches?) and told them we were going to have to leave NYC behind. Needless to say, I'd never heard so much honking in my life. They were not pleased. But the hubby and I eventually calmed them down, and soon we were off looking for a place where the authorities wouldn't look for us.
Naturally, we chose New Jersey. Jersey City, to be precise. We were all a little skeptical at first because, let's face it, we've heard all the jokes about the state. But, you know, we're really starting to dig it here. Just last night, we hung around with a bunch of people on the waterfront getting ready to watch the fireworks (we're big Fourth of July nuts...I know it doesn't make sense, but such is the enigma that is the Canada Goose, eh?). And unlike the people in the newspapers calling for our beaks, these people just pointed at us and smiled, or took pictures (I'm a bit of a ham, so I love having my photo taken). Real good people. And, from what I read in the Jersey Journal, pretty wealthy, too. It's a good neighborhood. We chose well.
Sure, sometimes when the fam and I are out on the waterfront, we miss the city. But we can still see it across the river and think of the good times we had there. Plus, we have some friends sticking it out over there who we hear from every now and then. We worry about them flying into trouble with the FAA, though they say it's not as bad as I think and that I should stop being such a silly goose. They even tell me I should move the family back.
Honk that. We're Jersey folks now. We're taking a trip down the shore in a few weeks for a little R and R. If we can find a sitter, my husband said he'll take me to Atlantic City next month (the kids aren't ready for that yet). And we're thinking of getting a few of our goose friends together for a tailgate in the swamps before the Bruce shows at Giants Stadium (the mister and I are huge fans; we named our youngest Rosalita). Yep, we're really liking it here. We're in it for the long haul.
Or at least until winter.
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