I Had to Get Up at 5:30am, but It Was Worth It

I know the euphoria caused by moving back to New York is going to wear off one of these days, but in the meantime, I'm going to revel in it all. When I got the chance to go with my family to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, I jumped at the chance. I was prepared to stand on the sidewalk for a few hours and tough it out with the other 2.5 million parade goers, but I got a pleasant surprise. As Dave (a guy we met who was watching the parade next to us) said, to get stuff in New York, you gotta know someone. Well, my brother in law knew someone and we got into a VIP section for parade viewing. The weather was nice, the parade was festive and hanging out with the family was just fun. I know hard boiled New Yorkers never go to these touristy things, but you really take them for granted when you don't live here. It was nice watching the parade without the canned blather I usually hear on TV. Hmmmmm ... I wonder what's next? Watching the ball drop on New Year's Eve in Times Square? Well, I doubt it. Unless of course, my brother in law knows somebody.

Here are a few photos:


This is one of my favorite photos because we started the day in a McDonald's on Eighth Avenue and there were some comely Pilgrim girls sitting next to us having McGriddles -- and there they are around the bottom of the turkey!

Hannah Montana was a special, unexpected bonus.


To infinity and beyond!

Although it's hard to tell from this photo, Santa was very exuberant. He would wave enthusiastically at the crowd while standing and then sort of collapse back into his seat.

I'm Not in SEC Country Anymore

I've decided I'd like to try to get back into shape. It's a hopeless uphill battle, but being an optimist I joined the gym at NYU where I work. The school has good athletic facilities, but like everything else in New York, they're crowded -- especially in the 5pm - 7pm time period. I never quite know what I will run into in the gym. Tonight I was jockeying for position around the dumbbells only to find myself squeezed out by a group of female senior citizens. They were quite a sight, but you had to admire them all. Marching into a room full of men in their 20's, they asked the young men to step aside -- they needed the benches afterall. The boys scattered like they were being scolded by their grandmother.

While that was interesting to watch, the most remarkable experience I had in the gym occurred a few weeks ago. I was standing in the weight room lifting a dumbbell, trying desperately not hurt myself, when I got that feeling you have when someone is standing behind you. I turned and saw several tall young guys behind me, dressed in NYU grey t-shirts and purple shorts. Politely, one said, "excuse me," as he headed to weight rack. It suddenly occurred to me that the young men I was looking at were all members of the basketball team. These NCAA athletes were just thrown in to the weightroom with the rest of us trying to get a little weight training in, all the while having to navigate around schlubs like me. Imagine hanging around college athletes without a sense of entitlement. Toto, we're not in Southeastern Conference country anymore.

Street Theater: Indoors

In my first few weeks back in New York, I have really enjoyed just walking around the city and soaking in the culture. One night recently I decided I would stop for some cheap Chinese Food. I found a place in the 20s somewhere and sat down with my book and a pile of greasy lo mein and an eggroll.

Just as I was getting settled in, a well-worn gentleman entered the restaurant with his shopping cart filled with all his worldly belongings, turned towards the young Asian woman at the cash register who was busy taking orders, and exclaimed "momma-san, how are you this evening?" She did not lift her head from her work as she huddled with her delivery guy. The man then began to address the diners:

"I have a TV set here. Anyone wanna buy it? It works. I plugged it in. All it needs is a cable. I just went to the 99 cents store and got the cable -- anyone want to buy this TV?" he asked, holding up the worn out nine-inch TV to the patrons. He then turned to a young couple and said, "Man o' man, you two are going to have beautiful children." Then again towards the front, "Hey mamma-san, you do look good tonight."

Turning to another couple: "You here with your son tonight?"

"My son?" the woman replied feigning indignance, "how old do you think I am?"

"Oh, no, no. I didn't get a good look at you the first time. Your husband? Oh your brother -- yeah I can see how you two look alike. Momma-san, don't these two look alike?" Still no reaction from the front of the restaurant. A patron then tried to get up and bring her tray to the garbage can. The man then took the tray out of the woman's hand and insisted on taking it to the trash for her, as if she were in his living room. He just shook his head as she protested, as if to say "that's what I'm here for, afterall."

After cleaning the tray, he surveyed the room one more time. "Don't nobody wanna buy this TV? OK, momma-san. I got work to do. You have a good night now, momma-san."

He left the restaurant, just as he had entered it, pushing his overloaded shopping cart. The woman at the cash register never reacted to him. There was no comment from the diners after he left. He went out into the night, and people went on with their conversations. Just another night in Manhattan.

Why I Love New York

I was walking across E. 12th street recently, soaking in my new surroundings in Greenwich Village, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. A young boy, probably about nine years old, was to my left on the sidewalk, matching my pace as I walked. I would speed up and this young guy, weighed down by the enormous bookbag on his back, would work to stay up with me. I had a choice at this point: I could ignore this behavior or find out what the heck was going on.

I turned to the kid: "Are you shadowing me?"
"Yep," he replied. "My mother says when I'm walking home from school by myself, I should find someone who looks not too creepy and act like I'm walking with them so I don't look like I'm alone."
"Well, I guess I should take that as a compliment," I said. "No school today?"
"Today, we have a half-day," he continued. "Yesterday, I found an old man to walk with."
"Was he easier to keep up with than me?"
"No, actually harder." Then he asked, "so where do you live?"
"I don't live around here," I explained, "I work at NYU."
"Oh, so you'll be turning at 5th Avenue, then."
"Yes, I will," I replied, amused that this nine year old boy knew his way around the neighborhood better than I do.
At the corner, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. That kid brightened my day. It feels good to be "not too creepy."