Still Trippin'

Though I'm a girl who loves all public transportation, one of the reasons why I dig NYC is because I can also walk everywhere. Big fan of the walking. Since I started a new job about ten blocks from my apartment I've started walking home from work on a daily basis- girl's gotta get her exercise somehow right? 

I was walking home from work this evening and I tripped in the middle of the sidewalk. A common, frequent occurrence for me of course. But this was like the extended, directors-cut version of a normal trip.

We are talking about shoe getting caught in between a large crack and me being hurled forward and down at the same time. I put my hands forward to break my fall, but actually didn't fall on the ground. So instead of a fall, it was more like a hyper jerking hurl of the body, which still managed to leave me standing. But inches off the ground.

If I saw someone almost fall like I did, in the middle of rush hour-city walking, I would stop and of course, laugh. 

But to my horror when I rose, I saw no passerbys pointing and laughing. No one chuckling or hiding a smirk. 

I was more in shock of not being made fun of by strangers, then the fact that I pretty much threw my back out. 

Not a normal reaction to tripping in daylight, but of course an understandable one, right? I turned around a couple times and my expression read Seriously, no one is laughing at me? You all saw what just happened and yet-- nothing. No mocking whatsoever? Well, fine. Be that way. 

And then I got in this really awkward, silent fight with strangers who were ignoring me to begin with. It was weird. I got on the bus after that and took it the next 5 blocks to my apartment.  

The M15 express bus saves the day once again.

Totally off topic- Prediction: the 'new' 90210 won't last half a season. Poor Kelly Taylor. 

Flat Topics

My neighborhood Starbucks ran out of flat tops this afternoon so they had to use the bubble ones. It says a lot about my neighborhood when most people not only notice the change in tops, but actually complain about it. But seriously, can someone explain the importance of having a regular flat lid to me? It’s not like the lid shape changes the drink at all. 

Some things I just don’t get, like the hiring process.

I had a third interview for a job this morning. Can we say corporate tease?

I actually can compare this situation to a guy taking out a girl on three dates without making a move. There would be no question that he acknowledges her presence in the universe, because he is communicating and spending time with her. But at this point is he just bored and killing time, or is he into the girl? Corporate environments don’t waste time, especially HR, so what’s with the long-winded getting to know you process?

I’ll give it a couple days before I get antsy, need to feel in control and call them to check in. 

Have you ever noticed the similarities between getting a job and getting a boyfriend? So similar it’s scary. In my opinion an interview is a date: by the time the interview is over you want to have charmed the interviewer so much that they’d buy you a drink at a bar. A date is an interview: if you know nothing about your date by the end of a meal, then you aren’t asking the right questions.

Anyway keep your fingers crossed and send me good-jobey vibes.

A Question For the Ages

Making out on the subway platform during daylight hours...acceptable or no?

I think the mood is slightly altered if a war didn't recently end and he's not wearing a sailor outfit.

Also, if there's no confetti falling, then don't even bother. The mood just isn't right when instead of 76 trombones and American flags, you have one drunk trumpet player and graffiti on the new NBC Fall lineup.

Making out on the subway platform during late night hours...acceptable or no?

Before breaking the question down, I must say that it is fun to do but not necessarily fun to view. I digress...

Again as above, the mood is changed if there's no Frank Sinatra playing in the distance and she's not in heels.

Also, if him and her are stumbling around, almost bumping into you and dangerously close to passing the yellow line while dancing to the trumpet player's music (which is really slam poetry against Bush in between hacks and coughs on the trumpet), then please stop. Or at least wait till the train comes and give people a choice whether or not to ignore you. 

This brings me to another question: have subway platforms become suburban doorways? 

P.S. I really don't think I'd have time to wonder about this if I wasn't unemployed.

Beep You

So I was walking down the sidewalk today and I heard a loud, intrusive 'BEEP' behind me. I didn't think anything of it but then I heard an elongated version a second later. A long, annoying 'BEEEEEP'. At this point I realize that I'm not actually being honked at by a taxi but in fact literally beeped at by another person on the sidewalk. I finally turn around after the fourth beep and see a woman pushing a child in her carriage.

I then assumed it was the child making the noise and just being, you know...a really tactful, polite little kid. But the thirty-something year old woman pushing the carriage then looked right at me and 'BEEP'ed in my face. She wasn't even smiling. She looked like I just put down a grand piano right in front of the last three yards of her Olympic race. 

They seemed to be moving at a normal pace and not in any sort of hurry. But after another BEEP I finally stepped aside and almost bumped into a tree. I mainly moved over because I couldn't believe that this was actually happening and I wanted to see what their destination was (Dunkin Donuts). 

I thought I had problems jaywalking and getting honked at, but now to add flame to the fire I now get verbally beeped at while walking on the sidewalk. Sweet. Next I'll be attacked by pigeons when I try to sit on a park bench.

P.S. A great song to listen to when you're reading inside and it's raining outside: 'Nightminds' by Missy Higgins

If You Say So

There are times when I'm sitting in one place (like Starbucks) for a really long time and I see things happening out on the sidewalk. And these things to me, aren't normal things. They strike me as so obscure that I even have to perk up and look around the Starbucks to see if, anyone else, actually saw the activity outside. Then I usually begin laughing out loud and get really fantastic looks for people.

For example: five Asian men just crossed the street (Beatles style) and walked down the street. Each one was carrying and waving an Olympic-regulation size flag from five different countries. Though I couldn't hear them, I think they were whistling 'We Are the Champions'. Any explanations for this? I got none, but enjoy the random entertainment. 

Good music: Val Emmich (go google)

Six Degrees

I really don't know how I meet people at Starbucks. I mean, sharing a table with someone does help. But I'm not the one who usually starts the conversation. 

Yesterday it was my new Starbucks banana chocolate smoothie that began the convo. This fifty-something year old woman sitting across from me asked me what I thought about the new drink. I gave it a high rating and proceeded to tell her that any combo of chocolate and banana is good in my book- it doesn't need to be blended together. The conversation then turned to our mutual enjoyment of our neighborhood Starbucks and then to Manhattan in general. Meryl then told me about her family and how everyone in her family lives in New York. Born and raised NY-ers. I then told her about my family from Boston and what brought me to New York. 

When she asked me about what college I graduated from, things got interesting. She kept on saying that she knew someone who also graduated from my college when I did. And of course she names my freshman and sophomore roommate who is still one of my best friends today. It turns out that her step-father is my old roommates great uncle. She has Christmas dinner with the family every year, and I have Passover with them. 

Weird.

She then told me that she was an ESL teacher and loves summers off but hasn't really been able to sleep in all summer because her contractor has been making early morning appointments. And tomorrow, she says, she has to get up early to do a favor for a friend of hers who works at Chanel in Bloomingdales. 

This is when the bells in my head went off.

She said that national makeup artists are coming to the Bloomingdales Chanel counter tomorrow to test out the new Fall line and they needed special clients to come in to get their makeup done. I cleared my throat politely and said...Well you know, I AM between jobs right now...and I happen to be free tomorrow. 

Meryl got all excited called up Luis from Bloomy's Chanel and booked me for 1 pm. 

And that my friends, is how I managed to get a free makeup makeover today from one of the top Chanel makeup artists in the nation. I feel pretty.

But anyways in short, it somehow always pays to get the new Starbucks drink. 

These Times They Are A Changin'

      In my thoughtful little neighborhood not a lot changes and I think that’s why I like it. The guy who owns the corner store down the block has been the same owner since the store opened fifteen years ago. The family who owns the dry cleaners next door to my apartment all know my name though I’ve only officially met one of them. Perhaps a new restaurant will open up in an unused building but we all know they won’t last. Two have opened up in the last three months: one is an Italian wine bar and restaurant so dark that you can’t even read the menu, the other is a French cuisine lounge filled with finger-food and top-shelf vodka.

       The owners stand outside of their new establishments handing out hologram business cards where you can’t even read the name or address of the restaurant. In my opinion these places won’t last, especially when you have three iconic Irish pubs less than a block from you. They simply just don’t fit in. They belong in the meatpacking district or even better: in Italy and France. The demo that takes up the neighborhood has high expectations: we don’t need romantic candlelight, goblets of merlot from Tuscany, or over anxious euro techno music to lure is into a bar. Give us shotty florescent lights, a rude bartender pouring us a six-dollar pint and a wobbly bar stool we can call our own for a couple hours.

      With that said, I think there’s a new homeless person wandering around. There was only one before, and I’ve known about him since the first day I moved in. He sits on different stoops up and down First Ave. saying one phrase and one phrase only: Please be kind to human kind. That’s it. He doesn’t even ask for money, which is pretty refreshing. I haven’t seen him in a couple weeks and today I actually saw a new homeless man. He was walking down the sidewalk with a large shopping cart covered with a black tarp. And he was asking for money. I’m not sure what happened. But the only thing I can reasonably come up with is that there was some kind of battle to gain the territory of First Ave. between 57th and 68th street that I just didn’t hear about somehow. And the previous homeless man clearly lost. Maybe he got moved downtown, or worse…uptown.

      I picture that the contest was intense yet simple. It probably included events like an egg toss (not boiled of course), a timed penny spinning competition (had to ask for one clearly) and some kind of belting or speech trial. Now I haven’t heard what the new homeless man’s mantra is but I honestly don’t know what can beat Please be kind to human kind. Unless he has a harmonica or throws in a second line in there then I don’t know what else could’ve made him the winner. I may need to talk to the MTA bus driver or the late-night shift Starbucks worker, or whoever judged this competition because so far I think there was some serious fowl play. I’ll keep you updated, obviously.