#Charter Bus New Jersey

[nyclimocarservice]

Charter Bus Rental New Jersey

#Charter Bus Rental New Jersey

[charliecarter13]

Y’all, so last night has to be one of the happiest moments of my life. So my school is on a really big school trip right now and we’re on this big charter bus loads. So we’re in New Jersey for dinner break when this goofy lil moment happens so I’m waiting in line for this pizza place in this really big mall area where my and other schools from my city are. I’m sitting there and my friend, @aheartstopperfan speeds over with a big smile plastered on her face. I ask her, “dude what’s up?” And she shakes my shoulder and turns me towards where she and our other friend is sitting. She then proceeds to point towards a Non-Bianary person and says they look a lot like Robin [Cavetown]. And rambles saying they have really cool pride pins and awesome pants that she really wants. I then ask her if she complimented them and she shook her head saying she wanted to say it with me and she thought that i would like to compliment them. So I then Agee with her and she smiles brighter as we wait for my food to be given. Then we see that the person is standing up with their friend and beginning for the escalators and we begin to panic, @aheartstopperfan mumbling “nonononono! They’re leaving!” The lady that was making my food then sped over to us and gave me my food quickly with a smile. But before i could grab my tray of food and soda, @aheartstopperfan yanks my tray quickly and she takes my hand and we speed walk over to them. I then said, “hi! I really wanted to say i love your hair! It’s everything right now.” The person looked really startled by us and slightly confused and uncomfortable but they smiled and replied, “ thank you! I cut it myself.” My face turns to utter shock and admiration. “Really? Wow oh my gosh that’s awesome!” Then @aheartstopperfan brings up the person’s clothes and they said they also made them as well! We then become even more in shock and awe and compliment their style until we begin walking away with the biggest smile on our faces.

this was the first time I’ve ever done anything really quickly without overthinking or overstimulating so I’m very proud of myself and yeah. :]

#Best night #i’m really proud of this #Love this night #No overthinking for me

[msclaritea]

Caesarea, Israel - Wikipedia

The modern town is named after the nearby ancient city of Caesarea Maritima, built by Herod the Great about 25–13 BCE as a major port. It served as an administrative center of the province of Judaea (later named Syria Palaestina) in the Roman Empire, and later as the capital of the Byzantine province of Palaestina Prima. During the Muslim conquest in the 7th century, it was the last city of the Holy Land to fall to the Arabs. The city degraded to a small village after the provincial capital was moved to Ramla and had an Arab majority until Crusader conquest. Under the Crusaders it became once again a major port and a fortified city. It was diminished after the Mamluk conquest. In 1884, Herzegovinian Muslim immigrants who left Austria-Hungary were settled there by the Ottoman authorities. At the time, Caesarea was a semi-demolished archaeological site. Seferović writes that the Herzegovinian Muslims were completely assimilated into Arab culture. In 1940, kibbutz Sdot Yam was established next to the village. In February 1948, the village was taken and depopulated by a Palmach unit commanded by Yitzhak Rabin, following an earlier attack on a bus by the Lehi paramilitary group.

Rothschild Caesarea Foundation and Development Corporation

After the establishment of the State of Israel, the Rothschild family agreed to transfer most of its land holdings to the new state. A different arrangement was reached for the 35,000 dunams of land the family owned in and around modern Caesarea: after turning over the land to the state, it was leased back (for a period of 200 years) to a new charitable foundation. In his will, Edmond James de Rothschild stipulated that this foundation would further education, arts and culture, and welfare in Israel. The Caesarea Edmond Benjamin de Rothschild Foundation was formed and run based on the funds generated by the sale of Caesarea land which the Foundation is responsible for maintaining. The Foundation is owned half by the Rothschild family, and half by the State of Israel.[citation needed]

The Rothschild Caesarea Foundation established the Caesarea Edmond Benjamin de Rothschild Development Corporation Ltd. (CDC; Hebrew: החברה לפיתוח קיסריה אדמונד בנימין דה רוטשילד) in 1952 to act as its operations arm. The company transfers all profits from the development of Caesarea to the Foundation, which in turn contributes to organizations that advance higher education and culture across Israel.[citation needed] The goal of the CDC is to establish a unique community that combines quality of life and safeguarding the environment with advanced industry and tourism.[citation needed]

Today, the Chairman of the Rothschild Caesarea Foundation and the CDC is Baron Benjamin de Rothschild, the great-grandson of Baron Edmond de Rothschild.

As well as carrying out municipal services, the CDC markets plots for real-estate development, manages the nearby industrial park, and runs the Caesarea's golf course and country club, Israel's only 18-hole golf course.[citation needed]

Modern Caesarea, or Kesariya, remains today the only locality in Israel managed by a private organization rather than a municipal government. It is one of Israel's most upscale residential communities. The Baron de Rothschild still maintains a home in Caesarea, as do many business tycoons from Israel and abroad.[citation needed]

I'm suffering a bit of shock and amazement, right now. I've recently been studying American history closer and just last night found out that New Jersey's lesser known second name is Caesarea. I know I'd planned to look more into it, today, but before I even could, the article about Israelis boycotting near Netanyahu's home was reported, this morning; in the town of Caesarea.

"5. New Jersey had the alternate name of New Caesarea.

In 1664, King Charles II gave a charter for New Netherland, the land between the Connecticut and Delaware Rivers, to his brother James, the Duke of York. James, in turn, sent a fleet to chase out the Dutch, who also had claimed the area, and then gave a lease for a portion of the land to Lord John Berkeley, Baron of Stratton, and Sir George Carteret, a British naval officer who had helped defend the island of Jersey and keep it in Royalist hands during the English Civil Wars.

In honor of Carteret’s services to the Crown, James insisted upon calling the colony New Jersey, with the alternative name of New Caesarea, after the Roman name for the island of Jersey..."

#Bibi Netanyahu #Caesarea Israel #Rothchilds Private Corporation and City #New Jersey aka Caesarea #As always I'd like to thank Mark Gatiss for making me infinitely curious about history #13 States

[huwujiu]

The Beggar

Word Count: 4.6 K

Sanjay hated India. He was Indian by birth, but had lived in the United States since the age of five and was an American citizen. He had become a wealthy entrepreneur in northern New Jersey, owner of a dozen apartment buildings, a chain of coffee shops, and two hotels. Although Hindi had been spoken in his home, he refused to speak it after the age of eight or so, and had long since forced every word of the language from his memory. He was proud to speak American English, not the clownish dialect of the Subcontinent that Western comedians loved to ridicule.

  Although his parents were both reasonably devout Hindus, Sanjay was not. He regarded a religion that worshipped elephant-headed gods and phallic symbols an embarrassment to civilization, and permitted no Hindu images in his own house. Neither were Bollywood films, cricket matches, or curry welcome in Sanjay’s family. He ate like a Westerner and enjoyed Western forms of entertainment, and made his family do likewise. His wife, a fellow business major he had met at Penn, was of a respectable lineage of Brahmins – of the Boston, not the Indian, variety. Sanjay’s two high-achieving children had never been to India nor met any of his distant relatives still living there. He had no desire to subject any of them to the cultural pressures that his Indian family members would exert – to go back to India to marry a proper Indian woman, to consult an astrologer in order to determine a career track, and so forth. His son was a high school track star and his daughter had made the honor roll every single semester since starting Middle School.

And now Sanjay was back in India, sans family, for the first time since he had boarded that flight to New York with his parents almost forty years earlier. A major international conference of hoteliers in Delhi had finally drawn him back, although it was his wife who had persuaded him to go. Such conferences often afforded opportunities for networking, and even Sanjay had to admit that many of the most successful hotel managers in the United States were Indian. But he notified none of his relatives in India of his visit, and vowed not to leave the opulent, air-conditioned confines of the Oberoi Hotel in what passed for a swank neighborhood of Delhi. Though it had been four decades ago, he still remembered the smells, the noise, the chaos, and above all the heat and humidity of India, and he had no desire to experience any of them again. Sanjay was also mortally afraid of diseases, and knew that the streets of India’s cities literally teemed with filthy beggars carrying all kinds of contagious pathogens. So while most of the other foreigners at the conference took advantage of downtime to tour the city, Sanjay locked himself in his room watching CNN and BBC – the only Western channels available – and running his businesses via the Internet.

But on the next-to-last day of the conference, the featured speaker – along with the breakout sessions and workshops based on his presentation – were all cancelled unexpectedly when the speaker came down with dengue fever. To compensate, the conference organizers announced an all-expenses-paid day trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. Five state-of-the-art air-conditioned buses had been chartered, and competent tour guides were retained to ensure a thoroughly sanitized experience. And Sanjay, who had not left the hotel for six days, decided reluctantly to go along. The Taj Mahal, after all, was one of the few things India could justifiably take pride in (he thought). As long as his exposure to the streets of India was kept at an absolute minimum, he was willing to risk the trip. Besides, several friends he had made at the conference, whom he was cultivating for possible future dealings, were taking the trip, and he had no desire to be the only foreigner at the conference who missed the chance to see the world’s most beautiful building.

His newfound colleagues chattered happily as the huge bus cut its way through Delhi’s tangles of traffic. From his window, Sanjay could see what he regarded as India’s human refuse: beggars (many of them deformed), unkempt autorickshaw drivers, untouchables sweeping sidewalks and gutters, street urchins, homeless men defecating in public, and mangy street dogs living off the mounds of garbage that filled every vacant lot. Even through the tinted window-glass, from within the deliciously air-conditioned confines of the bus, Sanjay felt that old revulsion. How could so many hundreds of millions of people be content to live like this, choking on one another’s exhaust fumes and sewer odors? Even on the highway, the traffic was unspeakably clotted, with horns blaring and the tiny Bajaj autorickshaws weaving amongst the larger vehicles, holding up everyone else. As the miles went past, Sanjay began to doubt the wisdom of coming on this trip.

Hours later, the buses pulled up not far from the Taj Mahal, along a broad, thoroughly Indian avenue that somehow always got cropped out of the promotional photographs of the place. Sanjay saw with horror that they would indeed have to walk several blocks through Agra’s crowded streets to get to the grounds of the Taj itself – several blocks of heat, exhaust, obnoxious touts, and revolting beggars. He considered staying in the bus, until the driver shut off the engine and the outside heat began to creep in through the vents and open door. With extreme reluctance, Sanjay got off the bus with everyone else, where the late morning heat and humidity hit him like a physical wave. He felt his pores open wide and begin spurting sweat down his back and chest. The near-tropical sun rays caused his scalp to prickle. And his composure began to fray amid the insistent clamor of dozens of touts and hawkers, who had descended on the bus the moment it stopped.

The guides, who spoke impeccable English, began their spiel about the history of the Taj Mahal, whose white minarets loomed over the scorching chaos of Agra like pristine mountain peaks. They walked towards the gleaming towers, threading their way past hundreds of vendors with their goods spread out on dusty blankets or crammed into makeshift wooden stalls amid drifts of discarded juice cartons and banana peels.

And there were beggars, of course. Dirty-faced urchins clamoring for rupees and pencils. Women dressed in rags, clutching infants against pancake-flat breasts. Victims of hideous birth defects and crippling diseases, displaying their monstrous deformities in hopes of eliciting greater sympathy from well-heeled tourists. Sanjay felt sick, unwilling and unable to give money to any of them, knowing that if he did, he would instantly be mobbed by others, as many of his more naïve traveling companions were finding out. Also, Sanjay had no desire to come into direct physical contact with anyone who could possibly transfer to him some hideous disease. All of which, he told himself, was more than enough reason to keep his distance and give to no one.

  But inwardly, his Western-cultivated conscience nagged. He was rich and successful, having enjoyed opportunities these wretched souls could never begin to comprehend.

Suddenly he noticed, seated apart from the others under a small peepul tree, a sadhu dressed in a dirty orange dhoti. His hair was tangled and filthy, and his torso emaciated. He had gotten this way, Sanjay reflected, by having renounced family, job, and friends and adopting the mendicant lifestyle of a Hindu holy man, as ordinary Indian professionals sometimes inexplicably did.

He gaped at the man’s legs, or what was left of them. All of his toes were gone, and what remained of one of his feet was horribly eaten away. Several fingers were missing also, and unsightly sores covered his legs and arms. The man was suffering from an advanced case of leprosy. Sanjay knew that leprosy first robbed the body’s extremities of the ability to feel pain, resulting in fingers and toes worn away by unwitting self-abuse. In places like India, rats often accelerated the process, chewing away at unresponsive leprous limbs while their owners slept.

Sanjay noticed that the brass tray on the ground in front of the leprous holy man had more than the usual scattering of coins. Most Hindus were especially likely to give to beggars with an aura of piety, to bolster their own karma. Sanjay’s gaze lingered on the sadhu a split second too long. The man had noticed Sanjay and was looking directly at him with coal-black eyes. Sanjay wanted to look away, but the man’s eyes held him, imploring. The beggar spoke no words, but Sanjay knew what he was thinking: Come here, rich man, son of India. Open your pockets, buy me another few days of sustenance. You whom the gods have blessed, share your substance with a brother.

Involuntarily, Sanjay put his hand in his pocket and took hold of a crisp 1000-rupee bill. He took a half-step forward before a wave of revulsion stopped him short. He let go of the bill and withdrew his hand from his pocket. Glaring at the beggar, he shook his head and stepped back. The man’s face fell, and turned to look at another passerby, who tossed a ten-rupee coin on the tray.

Sanjay hurried forward to keep up with his group, still feeling sick. For some reason, he was no longer able to hear what the guide was saying. The hubbub of traffic and teeming humanity, in combination with the burning sun, was overwhelming his senses.

“Hey, sar, you, come here!”

Too exhausted to resist the wiles of yet another tout, Sanjay turned toward the voice. A small, slender Indian with eyes that seemed a bit too narrow was gesturing at him.

“You too hot. Come inside! Have cool drinks and A/C!”

Sanjay’s eyes followed the man’s pointing finger. Over the entrance to what looked like a very dark little restaurant, a grimy sign in Hindi and English advertised “cool drings” and A/C. Gratefully, Sanjay made his way into the establishment, which proved to be as deliciously dark and cool inside as the sign promised.

The man pointed at a table. This time of day, there were no other customers, which suited Sanjay just fine. He sat down, and the man brought him an ice-cold bottle of Mirinda. As he drank gratefully, enjoying the too-sweet liquid sloshing down his parched throat, he noticed several other men, who evidently worked behind the counter, watching him closely with smiles that made him a bit uneasy. But he finished the bottle and leaned back, savoring the stream of cold air pouring out of the A/C unit directly above his head. He thought about the cool, dry airplane he would be boarding the following day that would take him back to civilization, and felt his eyelids drooping irresistibly.

Many hours later, Sanjay awoke. He had fallen asleep somehow, but he did not remember dreaming. It had been more like oblivion, and for a moment, he was unsure who he was. Then memory returned. He remembered the cool drink inside the air-conditioned shop, the men watching him….

  Sanjay groaned. He felt the thick, humid Indian air and smelled the awful smell of offal. He opened his eyes weakly, his head throbbing, and saw that it was dark out. He was lying on his belly on some rough surface, and in his limited field of vision he could make out what looked like a pile of garbage inches from his face.

He tried to move, but his limbs felt numb, doubtless an after-effect of whatever drug they’d given him. Then he felt something touch his back, and heard a strange voice humming what sounded like a mantra in Hindi.

Appalled, Sanjay struggled to move, and managed to roll partially over, realizing as he did so that he was completely naked and covered in dirt. In a panic, he rolled again, over onto his back and what felt like more refuse, some of which oozed pulpily against his bare skin. He shuddered, partly at the garbage and partly at the vision of someone kneeling over him, someone gaunt, with lank, tangled hair, who held a small round object in one hand. In the background, an orange streetlamp glowed, giving enough light for him to see that he was lying in an alley amid piles of garbage.

The figure kneeling over him straightened slightly, allowing the light from the lamp to reveal his features. Sanjay shuddered. It was the leprous sadhu. The man smiled at him and, reaching out with a clawlike hand with only three remaining fingers, daubed some kind of ointment on his chest.

Sanjay tried to scream, but only a gurgle came out. He shook his head, but the hand continued to apply ointment, doubtless some kind of horrid ayurvedic concoction.

  Exerting all his strength, Sanjay convulsed his body, jerking his head backwards and moving his arms for the first time. In his effort to get away from his ghastly caregiver, his head knocked into a pile of garbage, causing it to cascade onto his face. Since his mouth was open attempting to scream, some of it fell into his mouth, including some unmentionable piece of discarded meat that seemed to have things wriggling in it.

Choking and retching on the refuse, Sanjay tried to sit up, spitting out the foulness as best he could.

  Finally, he managed to croak at the sadhu in Hindi that he thought he had forgotten, “Door jao! Go away!”

The man withdrew his hand, and Sanjay managed finally to sit up, still spitting. With one hand, he waved angrily at the sadhu. “Door jao! Mujhe akela chhod do! Leave me alone!”

The man stood up, his expression unreadable, and slowly backed away. When Sanjay gestured again, the sadhu turned and limped painfully up the alley, disappearing around a corner.

With the sadhu gone, Sanjay was able to focus on his predicament. He was stark naked and covered in garbage, and his mouth was full of the foul taste of unmentionable filth. Not only that: his back and chest were covered with ointment that the sadhu had applied with his leprous hands.

Sanjay stumbled to his feet, dizzy from the smell of garbage and the after-effects of the drug. He looked frantically around for his clothes, but everything was gone. His clothes, cards, money, passport, everything had disappeared. He groaned in despair and sank to his knees, fully aware of his predicament. The buses had long since left without him, and no one knew or cared where he was. He was covered in filth, looked and stank like some street person, and didn’t have a stitch of clothing on him. He, Sanjay the man of means, was in serious trouble.

Suddenly he noticed a dhoti lying beside him on a comparatively clean patch of ground. It was old and frayed, but folded neatly. He realized that the sadhu must have left it for him. Gritting his teeth, he girded himself with that most Indian piece of clothing, and stumbled down the alley towards the orange streetlight, still gagging.

Emerging from the narrow cul-de-sac, Sanjay realized he was no longer on any familiar street. In the humid, clouded dark he could make out no landmarks. He knew the Taj Mahal could not be far off, but in which direction? The dimly-lit street wound past mostly silent padlocked storefronts and grubby concession stands, now all but abandoned except for a few scrawny stray cats and – something else. Sanjay could not see any other human beings aside from a bearded man sleeping on a piece of cardboard across the street, but he could see constant, furtive movements in the dark corners and interstices all around him. He caught a brief glimpse of baleful red eyes and a narrow, whiskered snout that whisked back into the darkness as he turned to look. Rats! Sanjay felt a shaft of terror. There were rats all around, larger and far more aggressive than the feral cats, prowling fearlessly in search of anything – anything – to consume. Some of these monstrous rodents might have been snacking on the fingers and toes of the leprous sadhu, he realized. Or perhaps they had grown fat and predatory on some abandoned waif too small to fend them off and too slow to outrun them. As it was, they had already apparently sensed that he was no threat, and had begun emerging from the shadows, some to forage without regard for Sanjay’s presence, and some simply to perch atop the refuse and stare at him.

Got to find help, Sanjay thought. He had no money, no clothes, no identification, no food, and no water – and no way to obtain any of these unless he could locate and convince some good Samaritan to help him. The nearest United States government office was hours away, back in New Delhi, and he doubted that the local police would be willing to help. But he had to try. He turned and stumbled painfully forward, and the rats followed. He heard the obscene rustle of dozens of tiny claws and scaly tails as he willed his legs, suddenly and inexplicably racked with shooting pain, to propel his filthy, exhausted body up the street. Each step he took produced agonizing pain from the soles of his feet to his thighs, and he wondered in his terror whether the knockout drug he had been given was responsible.

  Unable to support his weight, he leaned against a dusty, shuttered shopfront, willing his legs not to buckle. The rats chittered triumphantly, and he felt several furry bodies brush against his ankles.

  “Get away! Back off!” Sanjay was shocked at how weak his voice sounded, and how ineffectual his flailing arms were. The rats were all around him, their eyes glittering red in the dim light. Some of them were nearly the size of woodchucks, and they all clearly sensed that Sanjay was no threat. There were at least thirty of the bristling brutes now, some of them sitting up on their haunches, watching and waiting.

  Sanjay turned, still leaning against the wall, and resumed his slow, lurching progress. The pain in his feet and legs, he noticed, was giving way to a strange numbness that made him feel as if his feet were no longer attached, and that each step was into a sort of bottomless liquid. There was no reassuring contact of sole upon stone or hardpan, no contraction of muscle and tendon propelling his body weight forward.

  There was, momentarily, an odd tickling sensation somewhere near where his right ankle used to be. Glancing down, Sanjay saw two rats gnawing at his lower leg, just above where the Achilles tendon was anchored. He saw spurting blood – his own – followed by a surge of furry bodies drawn to the smell. Sanjay screamed in horror and lashed out with his other foot, kicking savagely at the rats, which withdrew a few paces, squeaking and hissing threateningly. Why can’t I feel any pain? What is happening to me?

Sanjay looked around desperately for anything that might fend off the ravenous little beasts, and noticed a street-sweeper’s handmade broom leaning against a dirty garbage cart. As it was the property of someone of very low caste, it was unlikely that any of the local merchants or other residents of this particular street would touch it. Sanjay, however, was long past caring about such niceties. With a clumsy sweeping grab, he snatched the broom and began smacking the street threateningly. The rats knew better than to come within reach. They withdrew a few meters, but they did not abandon the chase. And there were more coming, dozens more, swift dark shadows converging down the street from both directions.

“Help!” Sanjay began calling desperately in English, his mostly forgotten childhood Hindi no longer adequate to the purpose.

  A few paces ahead of him, he saw a stirring in a dark doorway. A slender arm flashed into view, beckoning wildly at him. Sanjay wobbled forward, no longer caring if he was being lured into a den of thieves. Slender gray fingers grabbed his hand and pulled him through the dark doorway, and a heavy door banged shut, cutting off the awful whisper of rat’s feet. Sanjay thought he could hear some of the little brutes scrabbling at the door, trying to dig underneath or gnaw through. But the wood was thick. It might just be the blood vessels hammering in his ears.

He turned to his rescuer. It was the sadhu, holding the dirty stub of a candle and staring at him with something like pity. And there was something else in those dark eyes, perhaps a bit of fatalistic satisfaction.

“Thank you,” Sanjay said unsteadily. “Dhanyavaad.”

The beggar raised his hands and pressed the leathery palms together, along with what remained of his fingers, but said nothing. He turned silently and headed off down a narrow dark passageway, and Sanjay had little choice but to follow.

  His legs and feet completely insensate and feeling detached, Sanjay stumbled heedlessly after the beggar, sensing that upon him alone his survival now depended. He heard rather than felt a sickening crunch underfoot. Looking down, he saw that he had trodden on an empty bottle that had shattered underneath his lacerated bare foot, one of the razor shards slashing his right big toe almost to the bone. The toe gushed blood over the damp floor, but no sensation of pain was forthcoming. With a moan, Sanjay hurried forward behind the shrinking light of the beggar’s candle.

They came to another door, which looked to be of very ancient workmanship, probably from long before the Raj. Sanjay knew little of Indian history, but he had read somewhere that, before the British came, the Moguls had been masters of India. They had built the Taj Mahal and, by all appearances, the massive bronze door in front of them as well, which was covered with what looked like Persian writing.

The beggar pulled on a tasseled rope, and from somewhere within, a bell bonged dully. The door swung open, pulled by two men in turbans. Seeing their open sores and missing digits, Sanjay realized that they, too, were leprous. The sadhu walked through the door without looking back, seemingly indifferent to whether Sanjay followed or not. The two door attendants waited impassively. Sanjay looked over his shoulder at the inky black tunnel behind him and thought of the rats. Beyond the door, he could hear the murmur of voices and see light from a few dim electric bulbs.

Squaring his shoulders, and trying to ignore the pitiful condition of his feet and legs, he walked through the door as steadily as he could. Trying to ignore the heavy sound of the door closing behind him, Sanjay looked around at the people inside.

He was in a dilapidated hall of some kind, its vaulted stone ceiling supported by crumbling pillars. The odor of decay and filth was overpowering. The beggar – his beggar – was facing him, and dozens of others like him were spread across the dirty tiled floor, staring silently at the newcomer. They were young and old, men and women, some dressed in the saffron garb of sadhus, others in filthy, threadbare rags. All were gaunt and undernourished. And every single one was visibly leprous.

Sanjay recoiled at the sight of oozing sores and missing fingers and toes. The floor on which his bare feet stood – the feet he could no longer feel – was doubtless covered with whatever nightmare pathogen was responsible for their condition. He tried to back away, but felt his legs buckle beneath him. He fell backwards, flailing helplessly, his head smacking the floor hard. He blacked out for the second time.

Sanjay came to almost immediately, jarred back into nightmare awareness by the touch of many hands and the jabber of whispering voices speaking Hindi. Or was it Hindi? The throbbing in his head seemed to have distorted the sounds, but he recognized none of the more or less familiar cadences of his long-neglected native tongue. In his addled condition, the whispering sounded like demented, incomprehensible gibberish.

He opened his eyes and struggled to sit up, feeling the filth on the floor peel off his bare back. All around him a ring of intense, lean faces studded with gumdrop-black eyes drew back, and the whispering subsided. His head was full of pain, but his legs and arms seemed to float on air, bereft of all sensation. Sanjay looked in the direction that he knew his legs must be, and screamed. Though the cut toe had stopped bleeding, it still hung at a crooked angle, clotted with gore. Two more toes had turned a deep purple color, and his feet and lower legs had also turned patchily purple, with several open breaks in the skin oozing blood and pus. Somehow, he realized with a sudden, fierce certainty, leprosy had invaded his body. With inexplicable speed, it had deadened the nerves in his feet, legs, and hands, rendering his limbs helpless against the merciless forces that tore, abraded, cut, and severed. He was no longer, he grasped numbly, Sanjay the prosperous American businessman, proud husband and father of four high-achieving children. He was a nameless, destitute leper among his own kind.

He felt a warmth on his chest, and saw that someone – possibly his beggar, who sat closest to him, staring intently into his eyes – had rubbed more of the foul-smelling ointment on him. Touching his forehead, his hand came away grayish-white; he had been doused with vibhuti, the sacred ash.

Why? Why me? The despairing thoughts crowded into his throbbing head. From somewhere outside his head came thoughts from some Other. He felt the powerful will of the sadhu, his sadhu, contending with his own, vigorous and in deadly earnest, despite the man’s ravaged body. Why not you, son of India? Do you believe yourself apart from us? It is our blood in your veins, the tainted blood of ten million lepers, the most wretched of all, the refuse upon which your world has been built. Why not you, and all your family, and all of your friends and colleagues, those with whom you have gotten rich and enjoyed the fatness of the earth, while we suffer in darkness?

To this Sanjay had no reply. He moaned and tried again to stand, but it was no use. The ring of feral faces around him pressed closer, the eyes darkening and features seeming to narrow in the dim light. The whispering began again. They were human rats, nothing more, Sanjay thought. Like foul vermin they lived in hidden places, scavenging from the living to prolong the living death that their disease had visited upon them. They were the foul night soil beneath every street, plaza, highway, and building, the raw face of vicious, untamed, predatory nature that even a hundred generations of progress had not wholly eradicated.

The faces around him seemed to swim and coalesce, shrinking and darkening, and the soft whispering rose in pitch. Dark eyes focused on Sanjay’s unprotected legs and feet, and shriveled hands reached out eagerly, pawing at his flesh. Yet they were not hands but tiny claws, Sanjay realized, and the faces behind them were no longer recognizably human. He saw blunt gray snouts and broken whiskers where noses and cheeks had been, and dirty gray fur in the place of dhotis and tee shirts.

  Sanjay shrieked and tried to crabwalk away from the chittering mob, but he found his retreat blocked by a column. Then they were upon him, pressing his torso to the floor for the final time, swarming over his legs and arms. His last coherent impression was of the vaulted, skylike ceiling above him, not heaven but the covering of what was to be his tomb.

And then the chewing started.

#horror #india #beggar #horror stories #original writing #original fiction

[head-post]

Texas bus company to stop transporting migrants to NYC amid lawsuit by Mayor Eric Adams

A Texas charter bus company sued by New York City Mayor Eric Adams’ administration over migrant costs has agreed to stop transporting people from the southern border into and around the city, court documents revealed on Wednesday.

Roadrunner Charters Inc. has reached an agreement with the Adams administration to stop busing migrants to New York, New Jersey and other nearby locations while the case is pending before the state Supreme Court in Manhattan. The company signed a letter that said:

“The Defendant Roadrunner Charters Inc. will refrain forthwith from transporting individuals known as migrants from Texas to New York City, and/or from Texas to the vicinity of New York City.”

The lawsuit, filed by the New York Department of Social Services, alleged that 17 companies, including Roadrunner Charters, violated New York State law by failing to pay for migrant care. The lawsuit seeks $708 million in damages.

Read more HERE

#world news #world politics #news #us #usa #us politics #us news #united states #usa news #usa politics #usa today #america #united states of america #nyc #new york #new your city #eric adams #texas #texas news #road runner #migrant crisis #migrants #immigrant life #immigration #immigrants

[southjerseyweb]

Trenton landed on Texas’s route to send migrants to NYC

Trenton Transit Center remained a drop-off point for migrants from Texas, avoiding NYC charter busing restrictions. Mayor Eric Adams’ rules prompted bus operators to drop migrants at Secaucus train station, continuing their journey to NYC. Five similar drop-offs occurred in New Jersey. Texas Gov. Greg Abbott’s Operation Lone Star dispersed migrants to Democrat-run cities. New Jersey acts as a…

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New Jersey Charter Bus Rentals for Night Parties 

Turn your nighttime celebrations into unforgettable experiences with our New Jersey charter buses for night parties. Our dedicated night party buses are equipped to provide a safe, stylish, and enjoyable ride for you and your friends or colleagues. Whether you're planning a birthday bash, a bachelor or bachelorette party, or simply a night out on the town, our charter buses are the perfect choice for hassle-free transportation.

#Bus Rentals #Bus Rentals for Night Parties

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[nyclimocarservice]

Wedding Charter Bus Rental New Jersey

#Wedding Charter Bus Rental New Jersey

[nynjlimousinetour]

Premier Limo Rental Service Operating 24/7 In The New York City

Welcome to Limo Bus, the premier limo service operating 24/7 in the New York City metropolitan area. When it comes to finding the best services for Limo Bus NYC, look no further than NY NJ Limousine. Whether you're attending an event or need last-minute transportation, NY NJ Limousine is dedicated to providing safe, secure, and comfortable vehicle transportation services. With over 15 years of experience, we continue to uphold our tradition of delivering superior experiences in the bus and limousine industry.

We offer a wide range of services for Limo Party Bus Rental in NY, Luxury Party Buses in NYC, NYC Party Bus Rentals, Party Bus NYC Rental, Wedding Charter Service, Wedding Party Bus, Best Price Party Bus, NJ Limo Bus, Charter Bus Service, and more. Our fleet consists of luxury vehicles and economy vans, ensuring that we can accommodate groups of any size for various events. Whether it's a wedding party of 10 people or a company-wide celebration, we prioritize the comfort of every passenger during their trip from point A to point B.

Equipped with state-of-the-art technology, our charter buses are designed to meet all your transportation needs. Our professional, courteous, and knowledgeable drivers ensure a comfortable and stress-free journey from start to finish. We take pride in providing outstanding customer service, ensuring that our clients feel confident they are receiving the best deal when they book with us. Our Charter Bus and Limo Bus services are renowned in New Jersey and New York City for their excellence.

To learn more about our services or get in touch with us, please visit our website at https://www.nynjlimousine.com/   or call us at 888-512-5660. At Limo Bus, we are committed to providing exceptional transportation services that exceed your expectations. Contact us today and experience the difference of traveling in style and comfort with NY NJ Limousine.

[groshanwilliam]

KingzTrans is a reputable charter bus company in New Jersey that offers safe, reliable, and comfortable transportation services. Whether you need transportation for corporate events, school trips, weddings, or any other special occasion, they have a diverse fleet of vehicles to suit your needs.

#Charter-Bus-Company

[jfk-airport-transportation]

Empire CLS- 700 million dollar company, how did they enter the limo business?

Empire CLS today is a limo company headquartered in New Jersey under the holding company GTS Holdings Inc. GTS Holdings was created in February 2005, when equity investment partners purchased CLS Transportation and merged Empire Transport services under  a single company Empire CLS.

The term CLS was attached to Empire, creating Empire CLS to safeguard the CLS brand name. The CLS brand name was reputable brand among Hollywood, 5-star properties and private chartered centers, brokers, FBO’s and affluent corporate executives. Charlie Horky started CLS back in 1981 with a single black stretch limousine in Beverly Hills Hollywood. Charles grew the modern-day Empire CLS from transporting Quincy Jones, Michael Jackson, and the entire Hollywood entourage. Even throughout the 1990’s CLS aka Empire CLS continued to grow themselves into newer cities.

                Charlie Horky opened a branch in San Francisco, CLS branch in Brooklyn New York, a CLS branch office in Vail Colorado. Mr. Horky was savy businessman, entrepreneur and a charming salesman who even opened up an office in Las Vegas Nevada. The CLS brand truly became an empire under Charlie Horky, so big that managing it all became a challenge to personal life and liberty. CLS used to subcontract trips out trip to Empire Transport services in New Jersey. Empire was founded by David Seelinger around the early 1980’s. Slowly, the idea came to surface about merging CLS with Empire, and yet Charlie would still operate his Las Vegas Branch independently.

                Mr. David Seelinger managed the Empire CLS brands well, so the board decided to keep him running the Empire CLS brand in New Jersey and Los Angeles. Empire CLS continued to grow with new technology, new travel agencies and a new booking platform known as Be Transported. Be Transported was a booking reservation management system created under David Seelinger exclusively for Empire CLS. Even with the Corona Virus lockdown, David Seelinger implemented plans to survive the industry.

                In 2023, Praesidian Capital has invested 10 million of senior secured debt into Empire CLS. Praesidian Capital. This investment allowed Empire CLS to add newer vehicles, upgraded buildings, and remarket itself into newer opportunities as group and bus travel networks.

                Charlie Horky closed Las Vegas CLS due to some financial hardships. However Charlie Horky has married, and lives a healthy stressless life. Charlie Horky operates a limo service known as SLADE.

                The legendary Empire CLS built by the legendary Charlie Horky and continued growth with David Seelinger.

#empire cls #limousine #ground transportation #business travel

[originalinfluencergladiator23]

[pastecry8]

10 Details Everyone Should Find out about How To Get From Laguardia To Manhattan

Most passion flyers report paying lower than $250 monthly for their hangar space. The construction of both skybridges has enabled more than two additional miles of taxiway area to be built, decreasing delays for arrivals and departures and will assist ease customers’ potential to travel to their gates. No more than two pieces of luggage including: musical instruments, and sports gear can be delivered to the bus areas as there is restricted house on the buses. Bus transportation is restricted to a Manhattan bus pick-up and drop-off. We focus on personal Manhattan Cruise Terminal transportation from your property, lodge or airport to the Manhattan Cruise Terminal. We will pick you up and transfer you directly to Manhattan Cruise Terminal, in the consolation of your personal personal air-condition luxurious vehicle or now we have chosen some historic places for you to go to on the option to your cruise ship. Newark is the most important and most conveniently positioned airport to French Woods, guaranteeing a very quick transfer to camp after their flight. French Woods employees can be carrying a workers shirt, a staff ID, and holding up a French Woods signal.

Workers members will remain at the airport till every flight has departed. Families who select to choose up their baby(ren) on the final day of camp (moderately than taking them house the preceding night of visiting day) can be given an early A.M. Households are welcome to can use any courier service to ship their baggage to camp including: FEDEX Floor, FEDEX, UPS, USPS, DHL, and many others. Please Schedule any shipped baggage to arrive four days previous to your camper’s arrival at French Woods. When your camper arrives, a French Woods Workers Member will welcome them and escort them to the baggage claim and to the awaiting chartered buses. Campers beneath the age of 15, flying independently, will be required to journey as an Unaccompanied Minor (age requirements could range relying on the airline) and shall be met at their arrival gate by their assigned workers member. Please be sure to pay for all of the airways, baggage, and unaccompanied minor charges, for the return flight house.

So instead, we should always pay $7 for an automated system, that was not sufficiently tested (though Port Authority managed to keep that out of the papers) somewhat than let New Yorkers take the subway on to the airport. When you land, you'll just should name the quantity you received on your booking confirmation to let your driver know you're ready and he can pull up in front of the terminal. Newark affords quite a few direct flights from all through the United States and from all over the world. ground transportation lga to manhattan will obtain an email forty eight hours prior to the camper's departure with the assigned workers members information together with: Name, Image, and Phone Number. All campers are requested to arrive wearing a French Woods t-shirt (if available) to make sure that they are simply identifiable by our employees. Campers are required to have their flights arrive between 10:30am - 4:00pm EST to ensure that they arrive at camp in a timely manner and have time to attend the camper orientation and settle into their bunk.

These personalized tours are perfect for families that have time on the fingers. There will be a number of departures from the airport to ensure that your camper does not have to attend at the airport for an extended time period. When you are searching for Car Services in the new York and Northeastern New Jersey areas, you must be assured of your safety, privateness, consolation, and the value which you'll be receiving. Our Lengthy Island airport limo service provides to and from all airport in New York and New Jersey. We had to put up with that ridiculous "Air Prepare" to JFK, which Port Authority--excuse me, I meant to say, the new Jersey faction of Port Authority--wished for one reason: MTA was contemplating a proposal to increase a few subway traces to the airport (which is a P.A. Established as the metropolitan region’s first main airport in 1928, Newark Liberty International Airport has undergone main expansion of its international air service within the final decade. Insert your MetroCard into the turnstiles to move past the Air Train space. Either means, I would nonetheless take the prepare.

#ground transportation lga to manhattan

[tieiran49]

NYC Perfect Transportation Is Important For Your Success. Learn This To Find Out Why

On this MCO flight departures page, you will see an inventory of all flights departing from Orlando airport. Ready to get pleasure from all that Orlando has to offer. If you are going from JFK to Newark or Newark to JFK there are quite a few travelling choices out there. I recommend fastidiously reading the information because tips on how to best get to your accommodation depends upon two issues: which airport you are flying into and the place you're going. Every possibility presents important pros and cons, so it’s clever to contemplate whether practice, limo service, or a chartered yacht will finest fit your price range and timeframe. It’s also extremely expensive. It’s best to fly in the day before the cruise, take a cab or shuttle to Galveston, and stay in a single day at a resort there. From there walk three minutes then take the escalator one flight up, swipe your MetroCard to pay a flat $7.Seventy five charge, and hop on the AirTrain that connects you with all JFK Terminals, starting with 1 and swinging around to 8. Reverse these directions to get from the airport to Manhattan. But nyc airport transportation deals of thumb is sticking to the most affordable flight. The following flight departs from JFK or LaGuardia or the opposite means around.

2019T MISS MY FLIGHT. New York is a city that appears to be always shifting, and with that comes countless transit choices that join NYC among its boroughs and with the rest of the world. Simply enter your pickup or drop-off location above and we will search via dozens of providers in NYC JFK to search out you the most effective public transportation deals. In case you are travelling from Newark Airport to New Jersey it’s best to plan ahead. It’s the easiest method to check options and costs to find the journey that most closely fits your needs and price range. It’s easy to guide your JFK Airport to The Bronx Transfer before you depart. It’s actually too far to stroll, and traveling between the 2 spots is usually a downright pain for the 54% of recent York metro dwellers who don’t personal a automobile. Honestly, what may you accomplish in two hours if you’re not behind the wheel? Unlike the opposite two New York City airports, Newark International Airport is positioned in New Jersey (the state subsequent to New York). The JFK AirTrain in New York is a fast way to travel from JFK Worldwide Airport to Manhattan.

While just about all New York city cab drivers have the mandatory licensing to transport passengers the entire solution to the Hamptons, not all are keen to decide to the journey. You have the opportunity to tour this glorious distillery as well as sampling the product. This product will be added to any Universal Parks. If you’re more the Harry Potter kind, try Universal Studios. Out of through Public transportation. However, the choice to take a taxi or use public transportation is specific to the airport. The City’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) has oversight for the general public subway and bus system. From John F. Kennedy International Airport you may take the specific subway (E Train) or the LIRR straight to Penn Station 34th street. You possibly can take the prepare simply from Newark and JFK to town. Personal luxury limo transportation in New York City. Taxicab, shared journey, and luxury sedan rates are estimates and may fluctuate.

We also present luxurious shuttle charter services between Denver Airport and Keystone. Select Airport Service Milwaukee to your next group outing or airport shuttle service. JFK and LaGuardia are about 14.5 kilometres apart and taking both a yellow cab at the airport or booking a automobile service beforehand is an efficient option. Whichever airport you fly into, there is all the time an option to arrange a automotive service. While the choice is theoretically accessible on-demand, few drivers will probably be willing to undertake the journey during peak hours. The trip between New York and Southampton will take around eight hours by boat, however nobody is arguing that it won’t be an expertise to recollect. Attending to New York Metropolis from LGA airport: Upon leaving the terminal, take the Q70 bus to the subway station at Jackson Heights-Roosevelt Ave. On the Jackson Heights-Roosevelt Ave Subway Station, take the E, M, F, R and 7 trains to reach your vacation spot in Manhattan.

#nyc airport transportation deals

[southjerseyweb]

Migrants Arrive By Busloads In New Jersey to Work Around NYC Executive Order

… in New Jersey to surpass the order. Adams' order is aimed to "improved coordination from charter bus companies transporting new migrant arrivals …

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