Karma, not just Flavor Flav's kid

Disclaimer: This particular blog entry has absolutely NOTHING to do with me living in Italy. Well, sort of.

I am home. Home, for those of you who missed my ode to chicken wings below, is Long Island, New York. In the past 3 days since I’ve arrived after an excruciatingly painful flight on Air France (where they would ask me in English if I wanted coffee and I’d respond in Italian….ooops), I’ve been pretty good about getting out and doing some typically American activities. I think that this is how we can all learn to “study abroad” in our own country; by the way, we collectively need to embrace our American culture.

By this I mean, tailgating. One of the summer highlights of living on Long Island is the Belmont Stakes, this year being particularly interesting because after the Kentucky Derby and Preakness, Big Brown was up for a Triple Crown win. But Belmont, they say is a champion killer, and for those of you who missed it, Big Brown lost.

Ultimately however, I know absolutely nothing about horse racing and I was really there for parking lot parties and shish kebab that my brother made. Then, eventually, for the big race we pushed our way into the track and because of the finagling of my brother (who, FYI, is a rockstar between the tailgating feast and what Im about to relate), we wound up standing on the rail about 3 yards from the finish line.

Anyway, on a fluke, my brother decided to put ten to win on a long shot- who as we know now, won on a 38:1 odd.

My moral of the story: Karma is a beast. (oh, and good things happen in America!)