Bless Dr. MiLK

I used to work in Atlantic City at a dirty, wanna-be-rave club. I used to work the door taking your money or the coat check taking your money and drugs. Over the north bridge of the island, just south of the large, luxxe summer home atrocities of Brigantine, was one of many A.C. slums. At the time, 1999 maybe, the casinos were pushing to build bridge extensions and tunnels for its gamblers to bypass completely the streets littered with blowing paper and blow junkies. But that was years away- scheduled for unfathomable 2004 and us commuters still had to schlepp through the little various ghettos of a pretend city.

Speeding down the parkway, I typically weighed my options: take the expressway straight to the venue -or- speed faster, skip the toll, and take the local roads. Being consistantly broke I consistently opted for plan B. And just as consistently as I risked the forty-some-odd-dollar speeding ticket in leiu of a dollar toll, I was always, always stuck at the longest light in the whole fucking universe. A massive structure of steel poles stacked with angled yellow boxes alternately flashing their reds, greens, and ambers at a massively unused 3 road intersection. I would wait what seemed like f o r e v e r where no other cars ever passed. The giant sign extended from one of the long steel arms of the light poles, backlit by the neon skyline.

"DR. MLK BLVD"

And I always giggled cause I never once read it that way. I always saw "Dr. MILK BLVD".

But, like, for serious. Religion aside, the man was a prophet. All you lucky S.O.B.s with the day off, take a few minutes and really think about what you're celebrating.