There is no spoon

I enjoy looking into restaurant windows as I walk by them. I like to see what people are eating and make them feel uncomfortable due to their lack of privacy. I was walking down 2nd ave last night doing just this. I walked by one window and thought to myself, "wow, that guy looks like Keanu Reeves." I kept walking, but then I noticed that everyone around me was abuzz. People were on their cell phones and pointing and everyone kept saying the same name - Keanu. It was my first confirmed celebrity sighting, but I was disapointed because I had missed my chance to tell Mr. Reeves that I loved his performance in Johnny Mnemonic.

New York's Finest

The other night, as I was walking home, I saw a bus coming down the street. I was confused because the bus had police lights on top. I thought, "what is that, a police bus?" When the bus got close enough, I saw the sign on the front that usually displayed the route said "police bus." Other than the lights and the paint job, it looked like a regular bus.

On that same topic, the next day I was walking home when I saw a white car with lights on top that looked like a police car. It had the US Postal Service eagle logo on the side. Just as I was pointing it out and asking why there were police lights on a postal car, I saw that the side said "Postal Police." So what the heck is going on in this city? They have police busses and a Postal Police force? If anyone can explain the purpose of these, I would appreciate it.

What Strike?

Everyone wanted to know how the transit strike affected me, so I figured I'd share my one strike story. I arrived in New York on the second day of the strike and needed to take a cab from LaGuardia to my apartment. I went to the cabstand outside the terminal and there were plenty of cabs waiting to drive me into the city. As the cab driver was loading my bags into the trunk, he said something to me, but I couldn't quite make out what he said. The only word I heard him say was "price." I somehow thought he knew I was in town for Pricewaterhouse, so I said yes. As I sat in the back of the cab, I thought about the fact that he couldn't possibly know about PwC, so I wasn't sure what I had agreed to.

The drive took about an hour because traffic was awful. It should have taken no more than half an hour to make the trip. I finally arrived and the cabbie passed my bags to the doorman and then got back in his car. I walked up to his window and asked how much the fare was, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I thought you said you knew how much it cost." He continued, "I'm not allowed to use my meter, so I don't know how much it is. Do you know?" As part of the strike contingency plans, all taxis were operating under special rules. One such rule was that fares were a flat rate instead of metered. I had looked at these rules before I left, so I told the driver that all trips to and from LaGuardia were $20 plus tolls. He looked at me incredulously, but he didn't know otherwise, so he agreed. I asked him how much the tolls were, but he didn't know that either. He said that he just charges whatever the meter says. I handed him $25 and told him that we were even. When I told my rommate how much I paid, she was amazed. She told me that a metered fare would have run me $60 or $70.

So that's my one transit strike story. I profited as a result....

It's like Las Vegas, but without the gambling...and the showgirls

Yesterday I decided to try the whole tourist thing, so I headed for Times Square. On the way there I took a walk through Bryant Park. I actually didn't know that I was in Bryant Park, I just wanted to see what all the little tent shops were. They were selling nothing but crap, so I moved along and came upon "The Pond." The Pond at Bryant Park is an obvious rip off of Rockefeller Center, but it didn't keep people from waiting for hours to skate around. I tried to find the end of the line of people waiting to get on the ice, but I couldn't find it. I didn't want to skate, I just wanted to find the last person in line and ask them how long they expected to stand there. I couldn't find it because it just kept going and winding and going and winding right out of sight. The line itself didn't move at all while I was there, so I would guess the wait was somewhere in the ballpark of three or four hours. It hardly seemed worth the wait, especially when I took a good look at the ice. It was so in need of a good zamboniing that people were not so much ice skating, but rather shuffling through ice shavings. I moved on...

After leaving Bryant Park, I arrived in Times Square. As quickly as I got there, I was ready to leave. There were so many people that I could barely move. It didn't help that everyone was looking up at all the lights and signs. As I was fighting my way out of the fray, I overheard the classic exchange between a young girl and her father. The father asked his daughter what she thought of New York. Her answer was that New York is a fun place to visit for a day or two, but she would never want to live here. No kidding, I wouldn't want to live in Times Square either.

From there I headed towards St. Patrick's Cathedral, but ended up stuck in the worst human traffic jam that I've ever experienced. I was sandwiched directly between the cathedral and Rockefeller Center, so half the people were looking at St. Patrick's and half the people were looking at the big tree, but no one was moving. I actually had to push a baby into oncoming traffic just to get through.* I finally got close enough to St. Patrick's Cathedral to see the huge line of people waiting to get in. I didn't feel like waiting, so I headed towards Rockefeller Center. I fought my way through another giant crowd to get close to the tree, but I quickly realized that I was just standing there looking at a big tree. Bored, I fought my way back through the people and went into the NBC Experience store. I was expecting it to be filled with cool NBC memorabilia and stuff, but unless you consider Donald Trump bobbleheads as being cool memorabilia, it wasn't. I did a little lap around the place and headed back into the fray to fight my way home.

I can't believe that it only took one trip to Times Square to turn me into a bitter local. I think I'll avoid Times Square from now on unless I have visitors or need to go to the TKTS booth. It was just pure madness all over. I'll stick to my nice, quiet, East side.

*No I didn't

I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas

Today I was in the kitchen looking for a can opener. Since I don't know where anything is, this involved opening every drawer in sight. I never did find a can opener, but I did find a drawer dedicated solely to housing this large wooden hippo. Since I was home alone at the time, I felt it was appropriate to take it out and inspect it. Since this statue is taking up valuable space in our little kitchen and it is obviously more important than a can opener, I figured there must be something special about it. Maybe it’s a knife sharpener. Maybe it’s an egg timer or something. It has to serve some purpose, right? Why else would it get its own drawer in the kitchen? I inspected it, but alas, it was just a solid piece of wood... it doesn't even eat marbles.

Crazy Dog Lady or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Pearls

I’d like to introduce you to my roommate: crazy dog lady. I found this apartment through craigslist, so I had no way of knowing what kind of person would answer my ad. I got my first hint when I talked to my future roommate on the phone and she told me that she has two dogs because she doesn’t have any children. This alone does not give her the title of crazy dog lady though. She had to meet my friend Stacey before she could be bestowed such a title.

Stacey was kind enough to evaluate the apartment in my absence, as I could not make it to New York to do it myself. I anxiously awaited Stacey’s email, and I was pleased to hear good things, but she also mentioned this little gem:

“She was wearing pearls around her neck that were beautiful and at the end of the visit she told me that they were pearls her first dog (whom she refers to as the love of her life) owned and now that that dog is dead, she wears them.”

I don’t think I need to elaborate on that. The craziness is pretty self evident. But take another look at the picture...