There was way too much shit going on in New York this weekend.

Between Daylight Savings Time, Halloween, and the Marathon, New York was somehow more non-stop than usual. Below is my analysis.

Daylight Savings Time: A.k.a. Awesome Savings Time, for most New Yorkers, this additional hour provides a nice, but ultimately meaningless, extra hour of sleep. However, for the nihilistic insomniac party-starved individual, this 49-hour weekend means an entire additional hour of partying Saturday night. While this may seem inconsequential, the ramifications of this bonus hour means NYC denizens become absurdly more intoxicated than usual, and there is a 37 percent increase in table dancing and public pantslessness.

Halloween: Halloween in New York is a week-long celebration where bizarre and terrible things will happen. Coming home Friday night, I rounded a corner to find a wall of men in ninja garb with animal masks, who terrified me to the point I may have peed myself just a bit. But, while it's all fun and games in my neck of Brooklyn, Halloween becomes a much more dangerous event - where gangs hold initation tests that involve senseless acts of violence and destruction. Last year, a man with known gang ties was gunned down across the street from my school in the Bronx.

Marathon: The legendary 26-mile run spanning 3 boroughs occurred today. In addition to my roommate, who kicked a thorough amount of ass in her run, over 50,000 runners took part in this glorious athletic spectacle, making it the world's biggest, and therefore, most awesome marathon. Truly, seeing the sheer outpouring of support and love for these athletes rekindles a sense of humanity within even the most cynical individual.

I also learned that, during a marathon, some nasty stuff can happen to you, including excessive nipple bleeding, crapping your pants, and losing toenails.

Thought that was a good lead in to talk about sandwiches.

Sandwich 43: The Lodge

The following is a recommendation for the experience, rather than solely the breakfast sandwich, that I partook of at the Lodge. For those interested in replicated this experience, it requires agreeable weather, patience, and a mile long walk before consuming your sandwich.

This is to be your first meal of the day. At no point do you actually visit the Lodge, a casual brunch, lunch and dinner eatery. Rather, you go next door, to its fledgling General Store, which contains the same menu, only in take-out form. The interior is nostalgic of an old New England colonial-style shop, possessing the kind of general decor that makes you say words like "rustic" without sounding like a douchebag.

Ask for their brunch menu. Order their fried chicken sandwich and tell them to slap and egg on that bad boy. It's not on the menu, but it's a beautiful addition from the mind of Dan Foley and it cannot truly be deemed a breakfast sandwich without that fried yellow glob of undeveloped chicken embryo on it.

Once you have the goods, evacuate the area. Walk straight west down Grand street and don't stop. A small park, never crowded, lies on the outskirts of the land mass of Brooklyn, along the East River. The river waves wash up against the rocky beach, where you will sit and forget, even if for a moment, that you live in one of the most densely populated region on the planet.

Then, you consume that perfectly fried bird, topped with an egg, buffalo sauce, and a beautiful bitter purple slaw, and you feel a glorious unity of all things, as you gaze upon that iconic skyline, with a sandwich in your hand, looking far more massive than any of the skyscrapers across the way.