I was originally going to write this post as a complaint of how the media was making a circus out of Terri Schiavo's plight, however, just as I began to type my first sentence, I learned that Terri had passed away only moments ago. I can only hope that, now that this saga has come to it's end, Terri and her family can finally be left to the privacy of their own lives.

I will keep this brief, because my main point here is that we should mind our own business.

Over the past two weeks, I have been absolutely sickened by the behavior of the media and some politicians, including congress and President Bush. Their actions may not have been unconstitutional like the passing of "Terri's Law" by the Florida Legislature and Governor Jeb Bush back in 2003, but they were just as intrusive.

Maybe for once my friends will believe me that I am indeed a non-partisan or not a sterotypical "fanatical right-wing Christian" when I say that I feel the media, Congress, and the President overstepped their boundaries when they invited themselves to Terri's bedside. Passing a bill from one day to another, in an attempt to change the decision of a federal court is not only a cheap tactic to further ones own goals, but goes against everything our Founding Fathers had in mind
for our nation.

Terri was robbed of the dignity and privacy that she deserved. The bottom line is that this was a private family matter that should never have become the spectacle that it did. Terri's family, her husband and parents, were used as pawns by right-to-live and right-to-die groups to further their own causes. They were used by politicians in an attempt to earn more votes. They were used by the President in an attempt to impose his beliefs upon an indifferent public. They were used by the media to increase ratings and viewership, and that in of itself is upsetting but not unexpected from this reality-TV generation.

Terri had the right to die, maybe not the way she ultimately did, but she had the right to do so in peace and privacy. Yes, I feel she had the right to die. For those that may feel that their protests to keep Terri alive were done in God's Will should keep in mind that it was human intervention and modern medicine, not an act of God, that kept Terri alive for as long as it did. She had the right to die back in 1990, and she had the right to die now, 15 years later.

Maybe now that she has passed on, we can mind our own business and finally let Terri rest in peace.

There's something oddly comforting about a completely empty bar at four in the morning. Maybe it was the calm that comes as Saturday night becomes early Sunday morning. That night was one of those rare moments when I actually liked this place. It could have been the lighting in the place, since the soft green light from the neon McSorley's sign hanging behind me definetly added to the relaxed mood in the darkened bar.

I sat knees-drawn on the wooden table of the last booth and Heather occupied the table beside mine, both of us staring blankly at the ceiling. Marina sat on a stool in front of us signing along to Concrete Blond while Joe went about cleaning up the bar. It had been a long night for everyone.

Marina had drank one two many shots of vodka and she was a nervous wreck over her date the following night. Joe had also had too many Bud Lights and become a moody bartender, rushing the customers out once 3 A.M. had come around. Heather had been having an in-depth, almost heated conversation with Will for most of the evening. Cindy and Tommy had just left 10 minutes earlier in a cab. Poor Tommy had been stranded out here in Fresh Meadows, but Cindy had been kind enough to have her cab drop him off at home. The birthday money that Marina had given her sure came in handy. Things always have a way of working out.

I took a drag off my cigarette, glanced at the clock over the register that read 3:53 AM and reflected on the past three days. Although it wasn't without it's little bumps here and there, Cindy's birthweek had gone relatively well.

Thursday had gone well for the most part, despite the fact that it had started to snow. The place was great as we had expected: the hookah smooth, the drinks were strong, and the music was perfect. However nothing ever goes perfectly, and unfortunetly Armando and alcohol hadn't mixed well that night.

I looked over at Marina, who was sitting with a huge smile, swinging her head side to side in a 1980s kind of way. I chuckled and then silently wondered why all people couldn't be affected by alcohol the same way. Armando wants to kill anyone and everyone when he drinks. Others just had a good ol' time. It no longer saddened me the way it had on his birthday. Thursday night it had actually enraged me to see someone care so little about someone else's special day.

Friday night had been loads of fun. In fact, it had been one of the most entertaining nights we had in a very long time. We were Armando-less, and apparently, Fernando and Nadine were no longer together because he had smoked from the hookah the night before. I didn't quite understand, but since it seemed so trivial to me, I shrugged it off as such.

We had chosen this place in Astoria because they were going to let Jackie and Eddie in. Once we got to the door and stepped past the velvet curtains though my heart sank, because I heard the latin music booming inside and I immediately looked at Cindy and asked her if she wanted to go somewhere else. If she was upset she did a great job of not letting it show.

We all ended up having a great time though. We made friends with the bartender, and Cindy amazingly actually feel for a spanish girl. We gave Fernando a temporary "P.A." card and let him loose along with Tommy in the nightclub. I didn't dance much myself until the very end of the night.

The music on the jukebox ended and Heather stood up and started putting her coat on. We all got ready and stepped out into the cold night for the long trip home. Heather drove me to Jamaica station and once on the train, I sat behind this group of drunk people. They looked like the type of people that typically come to Last Call. They were just as annoying.

I could still taste the Sambuca from earlier that night. Sal, Tommy, and I had come to accompany Cindy at Last Call since Marina had bought her a birthday cake. She really outdid herself with the cake. It was the creamiest, most chocolatey, ice cream taste I had every indulged in. I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but this was Cold Stone cake, so I had to make an exception.

I wondered were the next few nights would lead us. Sal's birthday was coming up, and little did I know we'd end up at a strip club on Tuesday night. The night would turn out to be a pretty good one, ending with Sal gettin drunker than I had ever seen him, with me driving Cindy home and Sal crashing at my place.

I arrived at Lynbrook station around 4:30 and caught a cab home. The driver was much too friendly and I had little patience to talk to anyone so I probably came off as an asshole. Oh well, I was sleepy. I spent about $9 total to get home and once again, I cringed at the fact that Cindy had spent over $40 to get Tommy and herself home. I suppose living in Long Island does have it's perks after all.

Overall, it had been a good week, and I went to bed looking forward to another good week.