Captain’s Log: Stardate 10689.3
Last night, a small landing party comprised of myself, Crewman Kenny and Lt. Commander Mitch had planned to beam into Stout NYC for dinner and then walk over to Madison Square Garden to see the Rangers take on the Carolina Hurricanes.

But, thanks to a northbound driving idiot on the West Side Highway and the efforts of the New York Police Department, that plan had to change. See, right at rush hour, some guy driving northbound jumped the divider and hit a southbound car head-on, resulting in a real mess of twisted metal and a fatality or two.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the NYPD, but did they really have to close the highway to investigate? I was 100 blocks away and I knew the deaths were caused by a car accident. Was finding blame worth shutting down one of NYC’s most important arteries?

Forget Riverside Drive and Broadway. They were more jammed up than some of the new prisoners’ asses in the showers that Dave will be watching over (Congratulations to Captain Dave on your new job as a corrections officer.) At first I considered parking the car at 187th and Broadway to take the subway down, but quickly realized, as a white boy from the ‘burbs, that the odds of my being alive the next day would be slim to none. I might as well have been wearing a sign on my chest: “Unload Your Ammo Here.” So, using the navigation system in the Pathfinder, a found other routes and worked my down from one war zone to the next. Mitch and Kenny would have to enjoy Stout without me. I’d be happy just to make the game.

Pulling maneuvers that kept me hoping that the airbags were working, I raced downtown. Cutting off busses, honking at pedestrians and a high-speed close encounter with one of those little police golf cart thingy’s (I equated Pathfinder vs. Golf Cart with Enterprise vs. Sailing Dinghy – he’ll move – and he did,) I was determined to get to 36th and 7th.

We met up and found our seats three rows back from the ice just a few minutes into the first period. What an amazing fast-paced game! Mitch and I were prepared, too. Should a slap shot cause a puck to fly at 200mph toward Kenny’s head, Mitch was to say “Oh my God! They killed Kenny” followed by my “You bastards!”

Kenny survived and the three of us had a blast. Madison Square Garden was jumping as the Rangers trampled the Hurricanes 4-0 – far more satisfying Hurricane relief than the ultra-lame Comic Relief 2006 that aired the weekend before on HBO.

I’ll finish this log entry with the following: To the great crew of the Enterprise, our friends, our families and fans of the log – have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. If I even tried to list all the things I’m thankful for, I’d use up all the memory on the log. For now, I’ll just say thanks to you all.