Life with the jokers: on tour

Part 35

We were now outside a block of apartments, 10 minutes walk from the restaurant, Sal tapped the hood of his sleek black car as he unlocked it.

"Wow, this is gorgeous." I gawped.

"Yeah," he looked proud, before opening the door. "Q, you're in the back."

I got into the passenger seat, falling into the leather seats. My legs couldn't even reach to the end. The polished black interior acted as a mirror. Q fell into the back seats, deciding on the middle. He wrapped his hands around both our head rests.

"Let's change the station," Q tried to interfere with the buttons.

Sal slapped his hand away, "I like this." It was a Smooth radio, and Sal rocked his head from side to side with the music.

He headed out onto the busy New York streets. Obviously used to driving in such busy places, yet I had a heart attack everytime he changed lanes.

"You alright?" Sal laughed, I didn't realise I'd been holding my breath, but Sal kept his eyes on the road.

I let out the breath, "yeah, I'm good."

"You'll like this," Sal said, taking a sharp turn, "we're taking a detour."

Q recognised the route. If he was an animal, his ears would be perked up, "Brooklyn Bridge?"

"Yeah, baby," he smirked, "will take us longer, but you have to have gone over it."

The signs for the bridge led us to a road that took a long spiral, before we approached the two arches.

"So... hang on, this bridge leads to..."

"Brooklyn," Sal confirmed, "then we take another bridge to Staten Island."

"Staten Island!" Q called from the back.

"I feel excited just getting closer to it," Sal beamed.

We were on the bridge, the view of Brooklyn obstructed by the metal poles and the arches, but as we drove closer, many tall buildings came into view.

"Brooklyn, baby," Sal announced with triumph, "half way there."

We took the sharp turns past the tall buildings, before heading onto the highway.

"Staten Island, Staten Island," the boys chanted. I couldn't help joining in.

"Look! There it is," Q threw himself into the front of the car, Sal swatted him away, as he pointed towards the bridge getting closer.

"And, if you look to your left," Sal used his hand as a fake walkie talkie, "you'll see Staten Island. Home of the Impractical Jokers."

I cheered. The road was parallel to the river, or bay, and on the other side was trees. Many trees. Even on this side of the river, it was surprisingly full of nature. The bridge grew bigger, towering over the car, until we took a turning and was driving under it, then heading on an upwards slope. They were giddy. Literally giggling.

We approached the straight line onto the bridge.

"My hearts beating fast now," Sal beamed again, smiling so hard his teeth were showing, "I can't wait to be home."