Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Empire State of Mind

Oh heyyyy.

So here I am, sitting in Central Park, watching the sunset.

Oh, by the way – I moved to New York.

That’s why there has been a little bit of delay in getting some posts up, I have about three that I was working on before I left that are saved as drafts – so just to give you a heads up when you’re like ‘Wait? This doesn’t make sense - Isn’t he in New York?”

Actually, today was my first day.

It might sound really blissful, but I right now I have a migraine and am locked out of my friend Chad’s apartment that I’m staying at for the week.

I've been out here so long that I’m starting to ration my Smartwater. That’s when you know its ‘city’ bad.

Also, I haven’t even been here a full 24 hours and yet I’m convinced I’m a New Yorker already. The problem is New York apparently doesn’t think so, and it annoyingly keeps humbling me about every 25 minutes.

Things I’ve learned today:

Ignorance = bliss misery  (especially when it comes to the subway.)

For example: get on the 6 train, get off the 6 train. Easy right?

Yeah, that’s what I thought too.


Turns out you can’t just get on any ol’ 6 train, put in your headphones for 20 minutes, and then get off at the desired location, I guess you have to actually be pointed in the right direction or something like that to get where you want to go. Meh, minor details.

Figuring out the Subway system around this joint is like telling a turtle to translate the Bible into Finnish. Unless you’re talking about me, the most directionally challenged human being you’ll ever meet, then figuring out the subway system around this joint is like telling a crippled, blind, and French Canadian turtle to translate the Bible into Finnish. Odds, sadly, are not in my favor.

Something else I learned:

When you realize this and get off said 6 train going the opposite direction and then try to find the right one, you then enter the turnstiles to get into the subway and then see signs for 2 different end points and have to exit the turnstiles again to read the giant subway map that is past the exits, and when you try to get back in - turns out you have to wait 18 minutes before you can use your damn metro card again to get back in. WHO MAKES THESE RULES UP? It's like playing Monopoly with a 6 year old... you get told some ridiculous new rule after it's too late that makes no sense at all.

So now you get to watch as both trains pass as you are stuck on the opposite side of the gate watching your train leave through the bars. But at least you know where they are going, right?

Don’t get me wrong it wasn’t all bad experiences today, sometimes heaven knows when you need a little pick me up and usually it comes in random shapes and sizes. For me it came in the form of a tough guy wearing a vest going to get off at his stop but the buckle on the back of his vest got caught on the bag of the lady standing in front of me. When he tried to leave he thought someone was holding him back and trying to pick a fight while she thought someone was trying to rob her and steal her bag. Luckily, since the subway was so packed, this was pretty much unfolding on my lap, and I had courtside seats to watch the whole thing go down. They both turned toward each other with their New York ‘Imma gunna cuuuuut you’ faces until they realized what had happened. By that time the lady's friend was trying to help the guy get loose before the doors closed and he missed his stop. Everyone just stared in anticipation… some hoping he made it, and others secretly hoping he didn’t, just to see what would happen. Stop judging us the latter group.

He made it. Barely.


Okay, I’m back.

It’s tomorrow. I’m in the park again… and locked out of the apartment again, but this time it’s sans headache. I have GOT to get a copy of that key.

Recap last night: When the ratio of crazy people with possible weapons to just normal crazy people with dogs began to dramatically increase in the park - I headed back to the lobby to wait for any of the roommates to get back. Meanwhile, my migraine just got worse and worse and of course my prescription was inside the apartment. So my new focus was shifted solely on trying not to throw up in the lobby.

The rest is a blur, but I woke up at 5:30 am the next morning bright eyed and bushy tailed; so something must have worked out okay.

I have also, after today, come to a realization that all of life’s lessons can be learned on the subway. I should have a segment just on that – as you can see from above I have already been exercising my subway learning curve.

So today’s subway lesson of the day:

I need tattoos on my neck… a lot of them.

No, hear me out. There is definitely a correlation between the number of tattoos on your neck and the percentage of people that don't want to mess with you.  Like get a couple of teardrops or something tattooed (somewhere between 7 and 9) to send the message that:

a.) this ain’t my first rodeo, son.  
b.) mess with me and you just might be the 10th tattoo mark on my neck and
c.) I’m not fresh meat nor a NY virgin, so don't even think about mugging me

Morals of the Post:
  • I was discussing the need for neck tattoos with my sister and since I am moderately terrified of needles she suggested that I get the temporary stick on tattoos. BRILLIANT, SISTER! brilliant.
  • Also, I went to the Food Festival in Times Square last night for Dinner. Which was incredible. I went with some friends and we somehow all got separated so it was just me and Edelisse to fend for ourselves. Turns out she was the best secret weapon EVER to take with you to a food festival. Guys would keep giving her free food or tons of extra food for regular price - it worked on everything from empenadas to bbq chicken wings. Homegirl knew how to work it! She became the literal bread winner as I would give her a ticket and she would go work her magic and come back with plates of food. Well done Edelisse, well done.
  • Hey Blogmother - I'm in NY... let's do lunch!
  • Everyday since I have been here I have heard the "New York" song in the most random of places each day - It must be a sign. Thank you @nataliedont for starting the tradition - and on future days that I don't actually hear it, I will whip open your voicemail and just have you sing/rap it to me. Still counts. 

Remember when..