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Cruise of the Foo Foo Special Jr, by Art Widner, Jr., 1943
Page 8
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8 * * * The Cruise of the "FooFoo Special Jr" dressed in a barrel before I knew what was going on. Well, maybe nextime I'll be better prepared. The next day Doc and I were supposed to meet a gang at a sea food place uptown, which we did. I think damon came along too. We went up to Norton's office, but nobody seemed to be around except Norton and Dorothy Les Tina, who reads manuscripts or something for Popular Pubs. So the four of us went to the sea food joint, hoping the others would show. They did. Fred Pohl arrived soonly, and then Will Peacock, new ed of PLANET STORIES, and a couple of other fans who didn't have much to say. There was quite a bit of interesting chatter while various crustaceans and cephalopods (all dead, of course) disappeared down various gullets. I was quite happy with my honey dew melon and ice cream. Doc, late in getting back to his office, got foozled on the train changes somewhere and left us precipitately to find the right subway. Damon shrugged, so I shrugged, and he got off at 42nd St, and I did too, and then we parted as he had to see somebody not connected with stf. He suggested I drop around the Foundation (the latest Futurianest) that evening. So I walked up to broadway and had my shoes shined and thot of the legend that sooner or later everybody in the world passes by that spot. I waited a while, thinking I might see Hitler and have the pleasure of knocking his mouth around so 'twould look like the side entrance to something, but no luck. So I went back to Fifth Avenue and decided to ride on a double decker bus and look down at the world. So we chugged along to 34th St, and there was the Empire State Bldg looking down on me. Such a state of affairs could not be tolerated, and wasn't it a vacation, a gala affair? All right. So I opened up my wallet, shooed out the moths, planked down a dollar ten, and went up. From stories I had heard, I didn't expect my stomach to arrive at the 86th floor for about five seconds after I did, but the elevator ride was rather prosaic except for the rapidly changing air pressure. Swallowing fixed that easily, however. Then another elevator took us up another 16 floors, and there we were. I went outside and walked "nonchalantly" (it says in the script) over to the edge and looked out. *Gulp* Surprisingly enuf, the vertigo I usually get in high places didn't bother me. It's so doggone high that the instincts just don't grasp it for a minute, and by that time you are so interested instincts don't count. There they were, the whole five buroughs, laid out like a map. I strolled around and rubbered at all four points of the compass, long and leisurely. Put a dime in a telescope and went on a tour of the city without the bother. Then I went down and back to see Doc, who was about ready to go home. I asked who'd be at the Foundation that nite and whatime should I show up. So he invited me to have supper with him. "What'll we have?" he asked as we got on the bus. I suggest a good feed of chili might be in order. I vetoed the suggestion of a mex restaurant, so we made it ourselves. That was the best chili I've had yet. Just as I wanted it. To the traditional basis of hamburg and red beans we added large white onions, a can of mushrooms, fine noodles in place of tomatoes, and sliced green peppers. I drool at the memories. The chili powder seemed not quite strong enuf, so when Bob Studley conveniently dropped in, we sent him our for some tobasco sauce. He watched us, fascinated, and finally broke down and asked to sit in. He
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8 * * * The Cruise of the "FooFoo Special Jr" dressed in a barrel before I knew what was going on. Well, maybe nextime I'll be better prepared. The next day Doc and I were supposed to meet a gang at a sea food place uptown, which we did. I think damon came along too. We went up to Norton's office, but nobody seemed to be around except Norton and Dorothy Les Tina, who reads manuscripts or something for Popular Pubs. So the four of us went to the sea food joint, hoping the others would show. They did. Fred Pohl arrived soonly, and then Will Peacock, new ed of PLANET STORIES, and a couple of other fans who didn't have much to say. There was quite a bit of interesting chatter while various crustaceans and cephalopods (all dead, of course) disappeared down various gullets. I was quite happy with my honey dew melon and ice cream. Doc, late in getting back to his office, got foozled on the train changes somewhere and left us precipitately to find the right subway. Damon shrugged, so I shrugged, and he got off at 42nd St, and I did too, and then we parted as he had to see somebody not connected with stf. He suggested I drop around the Foundation (the latest Futurianest) that evening. So I walked up to broadway and had my shoes shined and thot of the legend that sooner or later everybody in the world passes by that spot. I waited a while, thinking I might see Hitler and have the pleasure of knocking his mouth around so 'twould look like the side entrance to something, but no luck. So I went back to Fifth Avenue and decided to ride on a double decker bus and look down at the world. So we chugged along to 34th St, and there was the Empire State Bldg looking down on me. Such a state of affairs could not be tolerated, and wasn't it a vacation, a gala affair? All right. So I opened up my wallet, shooed out the moths, planked down a dollar ten, and went up. From stories I had heard, I didn't expect my stomach to arrive at the 86th floor for about five seconds after I did, but the elevator ride was rather prosaic except for the rapidly changing air pressure. Swallowing fixed that easily, however. Then another elevator took us up another 16 floors, and there we were. I went outside and walked "nonchalantly" (it says in the script) over to the edge and looked out. *Gulp* Surprisingly enuf, the vertigo I usually get in high places didn't bother me. It's so doggone high that the instincts just don't grasp it for a minute, and by that time you are so interested instincts don't count. There they were, the whole five buroughs, laid out like a map. I strolled around and rubbered at all four points of the compass, long and leisurely. Put a dime in a telescope and went on a tour of the city without the bother. Then I went down and back to see Doc, who was about ready to go home. I asked who'd be at the Foundation that nite and whatime should I show up. So he invited me to have supper with him. "What'll we have?" he asked as we got on the bus. I suggest a good feed of chili might be in order. I vetoed the suggestion of a mex restaurant, so we made it ourselves. That was the best chili I've had yet. Just as I wanted it. To the traditional basis of hamburg and red beans we added large white onions, a can of mushrooms, fine noodles in place of tomatoes, and sliced green peppers. I drool at the memories. The chili powder seemed not quite strong enuf, so when Bob Studley conveniently dropped in, we sent him our for some tobasco sauce. He watched us, fascinated, and finally broke down and asked to sit in. He
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