Does the movie “The Godfather” ricochet through your mind every now and then? Like, say, you’re driving and getting ready to make a left turn at a corner. The light is yellow, but you can probably make it before it turns red. Or you can stop. You decide to continue because it’ll be five minutes before another green arrow. Suddenly, a punk in a piece of shit car cuts you off and you screech to a stop ten feet into the intersection. The light changes and you’re caught there because there’s a line of vehicles on your rear bumper and cars are already moving past in front of you. Suddenly, there’s a brief burst from a siren and you look to the right. There sits a cop in a patrol car giving you a zombie stare and motioning with his hand that after you make the turn you should find a place to park. This will be a moving violation. It’s going to cost you $350 and a point on your license. And all because that little creep cut you off.
Then you remember that moment at the wedding of the Godfather’s daughter. The one where the mortician asks for justice for his daughter who was beaten by two guys who tried to rape her? The mortician wants the two guys killed because the police wouldn’t arrest them. The Godfather refuses, but tells his right-hand man to have a couple of gorillas put them in the hospital for a week. As you park and wait for the cop to make it to your window, you would give your left testicle for the Godfather’s help in beating the crap out of that kid. Stay with me, I have point.
Sometime back in January 2015 an unknown person blocked traffic at the George Washington Bridge. That bridge goes from the city of New York to New Jersey. People sat raging in their cars for hours. I was drinking coffee and reading about the event in the LA Times when my mind wandered to a car stuck in the middle of the GW bridge. Later I wrote this Facebook post.
TROUBLE AT THE BRIDGE
By now street urchins in Calcutta are aware that the George Washington Bridge, which connects the states of New Jersey and New York, was in virtual gridlock for four days. Since many people work in New York City and live in Jersey, many people were screaming mad. Enter into my imagination.
Four large unsmiling men in pinstripe suits sit silently in a black Cadillac and stare straight ahead. The heavyset man behind the wheel decides to make a phone call. The call is answered by a muscular man who paces nervously in a beautiful house inside a compound located on what is known as the safest street in New York City.
“Sonny?”
“Who th’ fuck’s this?”
“It’s me Sonny, Clemenza.”
“Clemenza! Clemenza why th’ fuck you callin’ me? Everything is tapped! You know everything is tapped. What th’ hell’s wrong wit you!”
Clemenza: “I had to call, Sonny. We’re trapped on th’ GW Bridge. Nothin’s movin’. Place is crawlin’ with cops. What should I do?”
Sonny: “Leave th’ fuckin’ car and walk back into The City! I’ll have somebody pick you up.”
Clemenza: “I can’t leave th’ car, Sonny. We got three buddies with us…in th’ trunk.”
Voice from the back seat: “…and two dozen cannolis.”
Clemenza: “…and two dozen cannolis.”
Sonny: “Who th’ fuck choked up th’ bridge?”
Clemenza: “Jersey? It’s gotta be th’ fat man.”
Sonny: “You’re nuts! We whacked Tattaglia months ago.”
Clemenza: “Naw, I mean th’ Jersey fat man.”
Sonny: “What! You tell that son of a bitch I said to OPEN TH’ GW NOW!”
Clemenza: “I tried that. I can’t get through to him, Sonny. I keep gettin’ some flunky at th’ port authority.”
Sonny: “Get somebody to him! Tell him I want th’ fuckin’ GW opened or he’s gonna wake up tomorrow with th’ head of Jersey on th’ pillow beside him.”
Clemenza: “Can’t do that, Sonny. New Jersey’s a state. It don’t have no head.” Sonny: “I hate that fuckin’ Jersey! Leave the car, walk back to the City, and I’ll have one of the guys pick you up.”
Clemenza: “What do I do about our three buddies?”
Sonny: “Dump ’em off th’ bridge!”
Clemenza: “Sonny, there’s cops…”
Sonny: “”Tell ’em…tell ’em they wanted to go for a swim. If they give you a hard time; tell ’em to call the Commissioner”.
Clemenza: “Will do, Sonny. See you in a couple of hours.”
Backseat voice: “Ask him if we can bring th’ cannolis.”
Clemenza: Sonny…”
Sonny: “I heard. Bring th’ fuckin’ cannolis.”
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