Tag: nyc

Jake Gave me a Rhinovirus…

I’ve named him Steve. Jake bought him for me in FAO Schwartz while we were in New York City on Saturday seeing the Producers… which, by the way, was absolutely spec-freaking-tacular. FAO was pretty damn nifty too… they had stuffed animals there that cost thousands of dollars, and we saw some employees re-enacting the piano playing trick from “Big” on their giant piano, and the fellow who checked us out when we bought Steve let Jake swing this 150 Dollar polycarbonate Light Saber… he had out. (I’ve since seen the same saber for $99 in Borders books.) With every floor employee demonstrating walking around with a toy (or zipping down aisles on a bizarre skateboard thing…) I think working there would have been a LOT more fun than working at the TRU.

Today I debut an Icon Featuring Steve the Rhinovirus… and an obscurely related Eddie Izzard Quote. (There’s another new icon on deck I’ll use next time I have a theater related post too…)

Anyhow… the Producers. I’ve never actually seen the movie… but Jake tells me the Musical Diverged in some places while still maintaining the intent, and that Mel Brooks spirit. The play was funny and rather a spectacle of quick changes and unexpected sets and things. A few meta statements in the play just made it all the more funny. All in all I think the buss trip went quite well. We had dinner afterward at a restaurant where I had Calamaris which were quite yummy, and walked to Central Park to sit on a really big rock and watch the sun set over a city skyline, and an opaque pond.

Then we walked back to the buss and fell asleep on the way back… Twas all in all a great weekend…

8^)

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I Still Hate the Holland Tunnel

The Holland tunnel is still gives me the creeps. My brother says I’m probably claustrophobic. My mom says I can’t be claustrophobic because I live in a tiny room. I know there’s definitely a difference, I certainly never have that feeling in my dorm room… but then I can always leave my tiny room, and I can see out of my tiny room… I have a window in my tiny room, and it is only 3 stories off the ground with nothing but the roof above me. I cannot see out of the Holland Tunnel… and the irrational part of my brain keeps imagining that the sound of all those tires whooshing along in the tunnel, is really the sound of hundreds of gallons of water two inches above the tile waiting to come in and drown us. It’s really rather similar to the feeling I had as a kid back in summer camp when I flipped out and started screaming in the spelunking tunnels at Albany Indoor Rock-climbing. We got lost in the tunnels and we couldn’t find our way out… and I found this one place where you could see out but not get out because it was up too high, and refused to leave. Really rather embarrassing when I think back to it. But that isn’t the same as claustrophobia, because I find small rooms rather cozy. I do have elevator issues, but that’s a fear of heights… or rather, falling from them, the whole lack of windows thing…. and it’s never interfered with anything, I just do like I do in the tunnel, and force myself not to think about the impending doom. It’s very specific. There are no windows in the supermarket but that’s not a problem because it’s big and on ground level… I really think it’s the underground, or illusion of underground (as it was at AIR) thing… Howe Caverns freaked me out a bit too, in the squashy small tunnels. It’s odd though, because in real life, as long as I know the way back out, I’ll go into all sorts of small spaces… like inside the ends of folded bleachers after another kids lunch money, or into the long narrow music cubbies, or into these small assed places under the Clifton Commons Wooden castle playground that technically no one is supposed to be able to squeeze into… but I frequently have nightmares about being stuck in a dangerous situation where the only way out is through a very small squashy tunnel, and I’m afraid to go through. Perhaps it’s because I don’t know where it comes out… or if it comes out… it could wind up being like the Pipe in Tank Girl… *Twitch.* Narrower and narrower, and no way out.

Anyhow…. We went into the city again today to see my father’s mom and her husband for Christmas. We had dinner at Mimi’s on 52nd and 2nd Avenue. It used to be our traditional yearly restaurant when we only went up there once a year. I listened to my Cake Like “Bruiser Queen” Album on the way down and back, so the trip went faster than last time when I just spent the whole time trying to figure out were Elizabeth was and just how big it was.

We only went in for dinner though. I slept last night on an air mattress that my grandfather got before we came down because their new couch is to narrow for anyone to comfortably sleep on, as I discovered last time we were up here, and I spent the whole night trying to keep the blankets from sliding off the couch and onto the floor.

I didn’t wear my Fedora today because I didn’t want it to blow off and get lost forever in the city. That would suck to much to say. I’ve had some little lump on my right eyelid for a couple of weeks now and I’m starting to think I may need to get it looked at, and the scars on my right ankle have been itching lately for no good reason. I mean they’re fairly old scars, like, 5 or 6 months old… no reason for em to be starting to itch now. None of my other scars itch, but all of them are older, though quite a few not by much. There’s just that one on my calve from the lanyard lacing (that stuff is flammable people be careful!) and the one on my knee from tripping over a parking partition in the parking lot at Disneyland… and then the ones all over my hands from when I fell in the K-mart carrying IBC Cream Soda (which comes in glass bottles.) But the ones on my left shoulder and wrist, and thigh… those are all from the past year or so, and none of them are itching me. Meh.

Where was I? Mimis!

I had the Muscles at Mimis, and I though you know, it would be like when you order shrimp, you get like 6, on top of pasta, and that’s all… but I got this like Giant Metal bowl of muscles, at least 40 of the buggers!!! Not to say I wasn’t delighted, I was delighted. I love Shellfish with a passion. One of these days I’m going to develop a sudden shellfish allergy and die… I sometimes have irrational fears like that but people say if you drink to much milk you can become lactose intolerant, and I subsisted almost entirely on steamed clams this past summer… so it does track in a scary sort of way.

Now I’m back at the grandfolks… trying to figure out why the lamp in here keeps blinking. I mean not constantly… just every once and a while it blinks. Also it’s also getting late, but I can’t go to sleep because I sleep in the family room on the air mattress so I have to wait for everyone else to go to bed. Mef.

Can you tell my thought pattern is all over the place right now? Cause it is. I’mana go bug people to let me sleep now…

8^)

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Cars Cars Everywhere but not a Place to Park…

I’m typing this from memory though I’ve been composing it all day in my head… so if it winds up out of chronological order, then please bear with me.

Ok, just to start… I hate the Holland Tunnel. I mean I really, really Hate the Holland Tunnel. Isn’t most of the ride from New Jersey trying to figure out where Elizabeth was in all those smoke stacks poking u pall about… and then later trying to figure when we were crossing from New Jersey into New York, but apparently that didn’t actually happen till we went through the Holland Tunnel… according to my mother previous to that we were in Hoboken. I never realized Hoboken was so urban… and if New Yorkers thing Weehawken is the middle of no place they got another thing coming.

If the Avenue Q poster I was seeing all night on bus shelters is to be believed, assuming I’m reading the pictograph correctly, Chelsea has a rather large Gay community. That does explain the rainbow flags dotted about the area… but then Avenue Q is posed to be funny right? I don’t know… the poster has Park Avenue and a lady with a small dog, and then Chelsea shows two dudes with a baby carriage. I wonder if Papa noticed. Probably not… he’s got a big blind spot for that sort of thing. (See yesterday’s entry.) Hell, he managed to miss Ivanova and Talia all three times he watched through Babylon 5. That’s tough… unless you have a deliberate blind spot to that sort of thing, which he does.

So we parked on 7th Avenue outside the Eros Café. (Yeah same Café as the year before last.)They got damn good Bacon, and kickass Omelets so f you’re ever in the city (or if you live there) you should give it a whirl. It’s at 7th Avenue and West 21st Street. We hoed out of the car, and my father locked the keys inside. It’s a damn good thing my mother didn’t listen to him when he told her back n Jersey to leave the second set… well… in Jersey. So she unlocked the car and he got the keys out and we went off around the block to meet Grandma Lucia and Hugo out in front of their building, and then we went back to the café, sat at the same table we sit out every year, since it’s the only table that seats 6, and had some bacon and omelets, caught up with them, and headed out to the car, to go to the South Seaport and tool around some down there.

It was actually a pretty cool place the South Seaport. My father took some embarrassing pictures and made us look like tourists, which he explained s ok at the South Seaport. Apparently it’s only in the streets of Time Square and in the Subway that you have to worry about these things. My mother was worried the entire time we were there that she was gong to loose me and I’d be stuck in the city. In retrospect I should have brought my wallet and cell. I figured it would be a good way not to loose em leaving em in Jersey, but now I think f I had had my wallet I’d have been able to tell her, not to sweat it. I’m 20 years old. I know my way round the subway and I can always take the train back to Jersey from Pen Station and call for a pickup at the train station in the Amboys. Instead just threatened to move to NYC and live there alone for a year if she didn’t ease up some. Truth be told I’m not afraid of the city… and I’m beginning to realize, I don’t hate the city. I’d hate it just as much if we were wandering aimlessly around cow country. It’s the lack of direction… which we didn’t have this year… so I rather enjoyed myself. I just kept thinking, that it would actually be easier to move from a Rural Area to the City than the other way round. Sure it’s claustrophobia inducing sometimes, but… people from the city rely so heavily on public transit, and street lights and diners open at 2am in the morning for a hot pastrami sandwich that they would have difficulty functioning n the rural world. Having to thing every night around 7 or 8 “Now do I have everything I’m going to need tonight?” before the stores close and you can’t get it, or leaving potentially an hour of travel time. People think Queens is far away? They should see how spread out things are Upstate.

So we hung round there for quite some time, and then decided we’d head uptown to 42nd street and catch a movie in the gigantic Cineplex there. On the way out of the seaport area, we went by the Staten Island Ferry (which my father Mistook for Ground Zero) Battery Park, which I always imagined as being inland, but which apparently is on the East River. And then Ground Zero… and I never realized how close to Chelsea that was… when I said that, my father tells me no, it’s not close at all, it’s a whole 3 miles. That goes to show that he was raised in the city. To me, raised in Upstate Cow Country, three miles, isn’t that far. That’s like 5 minutes away… That’s another discussion we had… city folk measure distance in blocks, or miles… but country folk measure distance in units of time… in minutes and hours. City folk do not comprehend time as a measure of distance: In the words of my father, “Diez minutos?!?! Que es ESTO?!?!” (Ten Minutes?!?! What’s THAT?!?!”)

Oddly enough I found myself looking at the city with a different eye this time around… looking for locales and street intersections and things to use in my LnO SVU Fic. My father showed an alleyway that used to be open but is now gated off, over on, if I recall correctly west 22nd street… anyhow he said there was a whole like, area back in there where you could get between the buildings, and I might use for Lilith to hide in. She could get over the fence… I’ve seen it. And there are a lot of places for a street kid to take shelter in some of the narrower roads that we navigated gong to and from the seaport. Oh yeah… the seaport… ok, so after wandering round the mall on Pier 17, and seeing the shops they got there…. Poking into the Sharper Image to see the Humandriod or whatever… and checking out dumb exercise machines, and a Rumba… and a glass circular scale… (“Look! This one’s glass so you can see it pick up the dirt!” “Papa that’s a Scale.” “Now I feel Foolish… lets leave.”) and a store called “Mariposa” (which of course is Spanish for “Butterfly,”) which sold art consisted of Butterflies mounted in Lucite Cases, (all the Butterflies had lived out their life spans according to sighs like… everyplace, which also informed us that artist is a vegetarian,) we left and headed for the Cineplex. Remember the Cineplex?

This resulted in the most unenjoyable part of the day, in which we spent over an hour searching for a parking space, which we never found and subsequently decided that we would be better off giving up and going back to Chelsea and parking there and going to the little theater they had there. Well that would have been all good if we had given up about 15 minutes earlier, as when we arrived the last move to start for two hours had just started, and we would have to wait two hours to see it… so… we left the car where it was, and hoped the subway to the Cineplex. We saw National Treasure there… I tried to be unspiolery, but just in case, Look behind the Cut…

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On the Road Again

So we’re on the road again, coming back from Thanksgiving. *Sighs.*

Thanksgiving itself was rather uneventful, aside from the sudden appearance of Crab dip, which we were all warned was off this year. That caused a lot of jumping for joy, and general clambering to get some on a cracker while it was still warm. Cousin Shayla graced us all with a few words, namely “bowl,” “top,” and “cup.” While her baby brother Christian, who”s over a year younger, and only 6 pounds lighter than his sister, insisted upon being held by SOMONE at every moment… except for when he took a nap, which thankfully coincided with when we were all trying to eat. Aunt Edith DID wear a Cowboys sweatshirt, but as no one had bet against my brother, there was no exchange of money, and after dinner and a lot of general laying round the family room watching football and playing with Shay and Christian, everyone went home… well… except for us. We live in New York, so my parents and my brother slept in the two guest rooms, and I camped out on the couch.

Black Friday was a really treat *twitch-twitch* as we all got up at 7 am, to drive to New York City and se my father’s mother, and stepfather… the cousins on that side of the family were a no show, which I was actually sort of disappointed at… I was looking forward to impressing my older cousin with the fact that I was no longer the scrawny little twerp who had tried to choke her kid brother for revealing to everyone at the dinner table, that she sucked at any and all video games. (I didn’t try to kill him mind you, just shut him up… no air… no voice… o8^) and besides… I was like 10.)

Anyhow… We had breakfast at a little place in Chelsea, where we saw an old fella in a trenchcoat and hat, and joked that he looked like woody Allen, and then walked to a cinema and saw “The Cat in the Hat.” Continuing the Woody Allen joke, a bald gall in a poncho type coat, spotted along the way, was dubbed Shenade O’Connor. And then after wandering around aimlessly, first up through Macy’s where it was abnormally crowded, then back onto the street where we ran up against a bunch of people protesting fur… which we hadn’t even bought, and then a protest against racial profiling at Macy’s, asking us not to shop there, which we hadn’t… two Salvation army Bell ringers and some dude encouraging us all to visit the Purple Yahoo. My father all the while was visiting with his mom, walking about 15 feet in front of us, while my mother, brother and I tied to keep up…

Then after walking aimlessly for another 40 minutes, someone got the bright Idear that maybe we should go to the Museum of modern history and see the whale… well at that point we were on 27th street… (we had started out for the record, on 21st) And the Museum was on West 74th. We were not only over 30 blocks away, but we were also on the WRONG SIDE of Central park. But we tried anyway… and when I though my legs were going to give out completely, a couple blocks after a Taxi tried to kill my mom and I, there came the idear of just stopping and going back to Times Square, which we had passed already as by that point we were on 59th street. So we went to the AMC Theater in Times Square (After Passing the TRU in that location, which made me gag) and saw “Elf.” Coming down the stairs afterward, we arealized that this movie theater lay over the exact same glorified food court that we had fled to LAST TIME one of our NCY trips went awry.

Subsequent to this, we were walking past Madame Toussaint’s Wax Museum, when I saw a girl posing next to what appeared to be Samuel L. Jackson. Now I turn to my mother, giggling and say “Well you KNOW that guy’s not real,” to which she replied, “Oh my GOD!!! That guy’s in Movies!!!” I says “Mom that guy’s a wax Dude!” to which she replies “Where?!?!” “The movie dude… He’s WAX.” She had been so exited to see what she though was a real star, after we’d joked about Woody Allen and Shendae O’Connor, that she forgot the fact that she was outside a Wax Museum.

Then we ate at Red Lobster and Went home… Actually not all that bad for a trip to NY, aside from the fact that it was only 7 at night and I was still ready to fall down and sleep anyplace someone would let me… but I didn’t really have that option, cause everyone was staying up to watch 20/20 in my room… cause if you recall… I were sleeping on the couch. (In defence of them all… I CALLED the couch… it’s warmer than the bed… and I don’t like sleeping in the pink room… somehow my brother manages to overlook that, in order to get at the real bed. *Shrigs.*)

So now here we are, on the road again, on the way home to upstate NY… I’ll sleep over there again tonight, and then catch a ride home from soon tomorrow after church… and post this up then!!!

8^)

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