Rockers in the van

While a patient at the Psych center, I spotted a sign up sheet for a trip to a Mets baseball game.

Sign up?

You kidding??

ANYTHING to break the boredom of the 24 hour Jerry Springer show.

Dress was casual-shorts, sweatshirt, no belt or shoelaces (suicide risk).


We have all been on the highway and seen a van full of people with ‘mental health challenges’, and invariably those people rock back and forth.

Such was the case for our Mets excursion.  I was the only non-rocker.

Now, in my ‘normal’ days, I would never cross the bridge into NYC without a few hundred bucks cash.  But this was a different time, a different life.  Had zero dollars, zero cents.

So we sit in left field, and in the sixth inning I get bored, and take a tour of the ballpark.

And it was grand!


I head back to the seating area, and everyone is gone. Gone!

Hol-ey Shit!

I think about going to a stadium cop, but visualized what he would see- a large man holding up his shorts, shoes flopping , looking for a New York State mental health van. 

Nixed that idea.

Make a call to my friend in the city!

No money.

Curl up in a ball and whimper…



Walked out to the parking lot-size of Rhode Island. No idea where we parked!

Lot A1- nothing…hungry

Lot B2- gotta pee, freezing

Lot C1-  spot a van, rocking….

Pure gold.


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