Scenes from the ride home, June 21

• On the corner of 10th and 25th, Joe's Tavern is no more.
• "Hotel California" comes from a car as we're stuck near Marquee. It's bad tonight; we're stopped for three red/green lights amid the cry of car horns.
• Then, at the light at Dyer Ave., a cop pulls up behind us, though in the left lane, lights flashing. He gets on his loudspeaker and says, "White Cadillac, when the light turns green, make a left turn." I look at the woman at the wheel. She glances in her rearview mirror and says to her friend, "That's me" -- then tries to make a right turn, sending her the wrong way on a one-way street. Upon realizing her error, she plans to pull over just past the intersection, essentially in the direction we've just gone, heading through the short tunnels under the streets to the Lincoln Tunnel entrance. The cop speaks up again, telling her to back up and make a left (his emphasis). Then we're gone, out of range, and I can only imagine the shit she was in.
• It's the longest day of the year, the summer solstice, and the first light of dawn colors the sky behind me as we head west, home, sunrise barely an hour away.