The crush of a NYC crowd

Thursday night, my friend Patrick took my fiancé, me, and his brother with him to a show. We saw "Something Rotten."  "Something Rotten" is an over the top hilarious musical mashup of Shakespeare jokes and Broadway jokes.  Even David and his brother who have little experience in either really laughed a lot at the show.  I felt a little bad that they didn't get all of the jokes.  I found out later that my friend Patrick didn't get them all either.  I know I didn't get them all, but have enough knowledge of Shakespeare and Broadway to know that they were references to shows that I haven't seen or read yet.

I was reminded of the crushing crowds in Manhattan on my way to the theater.  Our Theater was on the corner of 44th and 9th Avenue in Manhattan.  Patrick and I were meeting David and his brother at the theater.  We wanted to grab a quick slice beforehand.  Getting out of the crush of people leaving the subway at 42 street was in itself like a game of Temple Run.  When we got to street level, there were still hundreds of people just on the corner of 44 and 9.  You almost feel like you are at a Madonna Concert or something by how much you are jostled.  My mother asked me why there weren't as many people in my photos or videos of Brooklyn.  I explained to her that not all of NYC was like that.  The Theater District or Times Square between 5 and 7:30, though, is overwhelming.  It was tough to find David and his brother who are both a head shorter than I am, but we found them.

Last night, Patrick and I wanted to go bar hopping to check out the gay bars in Hell's Kitchen.  I convinced Patrick to walk the extra half mile to take the express train from Nostrand.  It was 6:00 and the train cars were packed.  There appeared to be two seats next to this little old asian man in the corner of the car.  I sat in the one against the wall and left the one between the asian man and me open for Patrick.  He smirked at me and I wasn't sure why.  I figured it was because he didn't want to sit that close to someone else.  I looked at him and pointed to my seat as I slid over to the middle seat.  His mouth dropped and he gasped as the old asian man with a thick accent practically shoved me back away from him saying "no, no, no."  Too late, as a sense of cold wetness absorbed into the butt of my jeans.  I hadn't noticed that there was a puddle of gross water on the seat.  I then stood up so my pants could dry a little.  That was the start of an interesting evening.

In spite of the wet ass, I was going to have fun.  We started with dinner at one of my favorite places, El Centro.  This mexican inspired little gourmet place is always packed.  We waited at the bar for 20 minutes to get two seats at a communal row of tables.

You can see that the place is noisy.  Manhattan (and Brooklyn) are so much noisier than most other places in the states that I've been.  Admittedly, this is a popular restaurant on a Friday night, but this place is like this at lunch and every time I've been there.  I think back to places like Dinosaur and Good Luck in Rochester.  I used to think they were noisy.  In the city, for me, it's rare to find a place that is good and where you can also talk through your meal without yelling.  That is a bit of an exaggeration, but still I am surprised at how many restaurants in the city are this level of noisy.

Ambulances, Fire Trucks, and Police Cars also have sirens that seem so much louder than anything I've ever heard in any other city.  I think it might have to do with all of the noise pollution that they have to put up with.  I didn't realize they could be louder.  Even when they pass me and I'm in my car, I usually have to plug my ears because of the pain.  Yet, kids and adults in the city seem to not notice them.

Patrick and I enjoyed visiting Flaming Saddles, Boxers, and Posh in Hells Kitchen. Flaming Saddles is a bar where the bartenders do line dancing on the bar around your drinks.  Boxers is a sports bar where each of the bar tenders serves drinks in only boxer shorts.  Posh is a neighborhood bar with a DJ.  We had a drink at each one and then headed home to crash.

Tonight…Halloween parade in the Village.  I'll share photos and videos tomorrow.

Happy Halloween.  May you find a peanut butter cup (or some candy you love) in your hands today.

$1.01

On my walk to work, I found a dollar bill and a penny.  Seriously, who walks past a dollar bill on the sidewalk and doesn't pick it up?  I'm not walking through wealthy neighborhoods.  This was less than a block from the county hospital that sits across from the hospital where I work.

It did rain quite a bit yesterday and there are puddles everywhere.  The difference between here and most other places where I have lived is that most other places have trees and grass and lawns.  That ground cover absorbs much of the water.  Here, with so little natural ground cover, the rain water pools at every intersection especially where the sidewalks meet the road.

That means that when people are dropping money, it sometimes lands in puddles.  I'm not sure why people are afraid to pick up wet money, but it doesn't bother me.

May you find lots of money today, wet or dry.

Collecting Pennies

My friend Yesenia, shared this article about a man collecting more than $5,000 worth of pennies over the years.  Over his lifetime, he focused on pennies alone.  He never spent a penny, but instead put all of his pennies in buckets.

I don't think that is my intention.  I know a number of people who seem to keep jars of money collecting.  I think that after a year of collecting this money (August 31, 2016), I will deposit it somewhere where hopefully it will earn some interest.

This is simply an experiment to find out how much I can collect in one year.  Initially, I thought I might be lucky enough to find money on the ground every day.  For six weeks, I didn't miss a day of finding at least a penny on the ground.  That included days when I drove to work and didn't really go out much.  After six weeks, the penny finding became slightly more sporadic.  I still find money on the ground almost every day.  I took the bus today and found a penny as I got off.

I hope that you you are blessed with some extra money in your pocket today.

Don't pick that up!

A dime shined in the sun this morning as I turned the corner from my house headed to work.  A block later, there was a penny on the sidewalk.  Both are sitting in my back pocket in order to keep them separate from any change I might get from buying something.

As I approached Fulton Avenue, there was a lady walking a large bulldog.  He stopped to pee on a tree.  I passed the tree and noticed another penny laying right next to a puddle of fresh, hot, steamy dog urine.  I started to reach for it before coming to my senses and realizing that it probably wasn't a good idea.  That thought lead me to to think further about all of the money that I'm picking up off the street and that it probably has been peed on by a plethora of pooches, or at least a few of them.  I know that I wash my hands when I get to work and before meals, so I'm not all that concerned.  It seems funny to me, though, that I could be picking up really dirty money every day.

I doubt that picking up dirty money is significantly different than touching a door knob in Brooklyn.

Note to self, keep washing hands and make sure to buy good hand cream for winter.

I have 13 cents in my pocket so far today.  As I walk home, I'm still going to pick up money.  Funny thing, if I pass the tree where the dog peed and there is no pee, I won't remember and will probably pick that penny up anyway.

The lesson I take from this is that although there are opportunities around us every day that seem great, some of them have been tainted.  We don't have to accept every gift we are given.  Some of them are meant for others.  And sometimes, those "opportunities" are meant to stay right where they are and slowly get buried with debris over time to that someone years from now decides that they are good to pick up.

To give or not to give?

A man from across the street exited his apartment wearing a fur coat and an interesting hat that reminded me of Sherlock Holmes.  He crossed the street and made a bee line for me.

"Can you answer a question for me?

Now when someone asks you this just about anywhere in the world, except NYC, they are usually asking for directions.  Here, I've found, it usually means an ask for money.  I responded that I would do my best.

"I'm not asking for money, really.  You see, I got a baby and I need baby milk.  Honest, I can show you my baby. I need it bad.  I got nothin.  If you could come to the store and buy it, I'd appreciate it."

At this point, I usually walk away and say I can't help.  Something this morning made me stop.  "How much does it cost."  He replied that he had $4.99 and it costs $14.99 for baby milk.  I have no idea how much it really costs.  I only had $16 on me and was planning on using it for lunch.  I gave him $5 saying, "this can get you closer to what you need," and walked away wondering if I had been taken advantage of.

I know there are programs out there that pay for baby diapers and formula.  I know they are free to sign up for and make sure that no baby will starve.  Something told me that I really should help this time instead of walking away and saying no.  It may have been my conversation the night before about how tough it is for some people to get ahead in this country, especially people of color.

Yesterday, on the train, there is a character that still stands out in my mind.  He was a very tall and large white guy wearing basketball shorts, black socks, and a hockey jersey.  He smelled like he had not washed in days.  He came into my train car swearing and talking about how no one in the world would help him.  He hated all the f-ing people in the world who were ignoring how much he needed help.  He just wanted some money to buy some shoes at Payless.  He has a hole in his leg that won't heal and no one will f-ing listen or help him.  I felt terrible for him.  Is the response to give someone money?  Is that the moral and upright thing to do?  The christian thing to do?

Here in lies the question.  I know, as many of you do, that there are people that take advantage of other people every day.  Some of them have drug problems, alcohol problems, or mental health issues.  Others are simply acting as if they have problems because they would rather do that to get money than get a real job.  When a person really needs help, should you help them if you can?  What if it means getting more involved in their life to help them and you really don't want to or can't spend the time doing that?  What if just giving them money means that they will buy drugs or alcohol and use your money for that?

I am not a rich person and have worked hard for the money I have.  I am caught between wanting to save money and have a back-up security blanket for hard times versus just giving all I have and trusting God to provide when I really need it.  I believe God wanted us to be a good steward with our money, but also help where we can.  Is it wrong that Ideally I want one year of my salary in a bank account and enough money in a retirement account so I can retire when I'm older?

I'm more apt to give a hungry person food or a cold person a coat than to give them money.  I've heard it said that they should be able to pick out their own food or coat instead of me doing it for them.  I struggle with this too.  If someone is asking for help, I want to do it as economically and intelligently as I can.  I'd like to get the warmest coat for the best price to give to someone.  Since it would be my money helping them, shouldn't I get to decide how to help?

As a fundraiser for a charity and having done charity fundraising for years, I can see both sides of this argument.  My philosophy is that if someone really needs help, they should accept what they are given.  If they don't like it, then give it to someone who does.

What is the right thing to do?  How would you respond?

May you always have enough money to buy enough food to eat, warm clothes, and to pay for a safe place to live.

To give, or not to give, that is the question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to empty
Your wallet and pockets of all that you have,
Or to walk away from the man begging your change,
And by declining, leave them: to starve, to weep
No food, or coin, to ask another.

The question, and the thousand answers to say
That their need is real? 'Tis my consternation
Divinely to be able. To give, yet have,
To have, perchance enough; that yes, that's the rub,
To have enough for both, what needs arise,
When we both have hungered or have asked,
A pocket yet full. The solution
That makes my heart a happy one.

(I memorized the Hamlet soliloquy in College and took some major liberties in editing it to fit this blog...forgive me Shakespeare)

A tourist in your own city - lobster and the statue of liberty

David, my fiancé, has his brother visiting from London.  Today, David really wanted his brother to have lobster for the first time.  We went to a place near Union Square called Burger and Lobster.  They have three things on the menu for food: 1.) lobster, 2.) burgers, and 3.)lobster rolls.  We decided to do the most economical version of their lobster meal and split a giant lobster between us.  I have never really liked lobster, so we go the smallest big lobster that they had at 3.5 pounds.

For some reason, I always assume all lobsters are male.  Apparently it is hard to tell their gender until you kill them.  This small large lady was full of lobster eggs.  We chose to have her grilled for us.  I took a few bites to make sure I still didn't like it (some say it is a 'no thank you helping').  Sure enough, lobster still isn't my thing.  I had a bunch of fries and salad to go with my scotch and that was enough.  I did try the roe (it tasted like sea water to me), but couldn't bring myself to eat the liver which looked more like guacamole than lobster liver.  A cooked whole lobster really stinks.  David enjoyed it.  His brother was glad to experience it, but would probably not do it again.  As for me, I'd prefer the burger next time.  The bill was pretty hefty, and my $50 gift card from TD Bank paid for a small portion of it.  

If you enjoy lobster (the restaurant was packed with people who do), this place is pretty good.  After they had both eaten their fill, they wanted to go home.  David has yet to show his brother much of NYC, so I suggested the Staten Island Ferry.  

The Staten Island Ferry is the best free way to get a good view of the Statue of Liberty.  We timed it at sunset which was pretty for sure.  

There is something very peaceful about the 25 minute ferry ride.  There are lots of tourists on the boat speaking many different languages.  When you get to the other side, you exit the ferry and have to wait for a ferry back.  We waited about 10 minutes and then caught the next ferry back.  Since September 11, you can no longer stand on the observation deck that approaches Manhattan on the way back.  Still, I managed to get one mediocre shot of the view of the tip of Manhattan at night.  

We then walked up through the Wall Street area toward the Fulton Train station to catch a subway home.  From the ferry, you can walk by the Bull Statue of Wall Street.  Apparently it is good luck to rub it's horns.  

You also end up walking by Trinity Church (National Treasure was filmed there) which is a beautiful old church.  We stopped there so I could point out the New York Stock Exchange and the first capital building of the United States of America.  I was also able to point out the September 11 site.  

One the subway ride home, we got into a heated discussion about racism in America.  As we were trying to talk, a "blind" women was singing hymns loudly and asking for money.  I put blind in quotes because although she carried a red and white long cane with a roller ball on the bottom, she only used it to tap the floor in beat to the music and seemed to be making eye contact with each person as she held out her cup for money. David's brother has been here just two days, but feels like so many people of color he sees are lazy.  I tried to talk about the system that has created so many poor black and latino people (every time we stopped, another person seemed to get on and ask for money no matter where we were), but he really didn't want to hear it.  Hopefully as we get to know each other, we can have more in depth conversations than a 20 minute subway ride will allow.  

On my walk home from the Nostrand stop on the A, I found a penny and then noticed a new pop up gallery.  They were selling art made by prisoners in the US Prison system.  I love art and art galleries.  I walked around and ended up buying a small painting of the Beacon Theater in Miami Beach that is painted with coffee as the primary medium.  I felt particularly drawn to both this piece of art and the cause it supported just minutes after reflecting on the racial injustices of our prison system.  

That was enough to fill my Sunday afternoon.  There is rarely a dull moment.  

The parent dilemma

I packed up my laundry to bring over to Ken at the laundry.  They charge you an extra $10 if there is a blanket in the bag, so this will be an expensive week.  Ken's wife had her baby.  At first, I thought he said the baby's name was waiter.  He corrected me.  Welcome to this world, Ryder Wong.

That brings me to a question…or rather a retelling of some things that I am hearing a lot in NYC.  This morning, I stopped by the local bodega to get a drink and some lunch.  Around here, I've adopted the custom of calling every shop keeper "boss."  My mom asked me why I did this and suggested that it was pejorative.  They usually call me "brother."  I decided that I needed to start asking names.  I asked the bodega guy who was making my sandwich what his name was.  He said his name is Ali.  I asked if he had ever seen the Disney movie, Aladdin, and I started singing "It is he, fabulous he, the famous Ali, Ali Ababwa."

He laughed and said he had never heard of it.  I asked if he had kids, that they had probably seen it or would like it.  He said he had kids, but they weren't here.  I asked what he meant.  He explained that his kids are home with his wife in Yemen.  I asked if he skypes with them or flies home to see them often.  Ali said he was just happy to work his 16 hours a day to make sure that they get food, education and a good job.  He doesn't talk to them or see them.

This saddened me.  I know how important my nieces and nephews are to me and my family.  I can't imagine their parents never seeing or talking to them.  Some of this is cultural, I'm sure, but I can't help but imagine how painful this would be for me or my family.  For Ali, it seems like it is just the way things are.  I have heard similar stories from many people living in my neighborhood.  There are so many people working here in the city, and in the U.S. who just are trying to make enough money for their family to survive, be it here or abroad.

I pondered that as I walked across the street to buy dessert from the new coffee shop that I'm trying to support on my block.  Kim, the owner, asked about David and if we had set a date.  She suggested keeping the wedding here in NYC, but we are really hoping to get married in Rochester, NY.  Kim asked if I knew of any apartments opening up in the neighborhood.  The only one she was interested in has been assigned to a broker.  For those of you who aren't familiar with this model, that means that a real estate agent is the only person who can rent the apartment.  Not only do you have to pay a first month's rent and a security deposit, but also the equivalent of a month's rent in a broker's fee.  That means that the average one bedroom in Brooklyn will cost you $5,400 just in first months rent.  You don't get the broker fee back, so it's a sunk cost.  This city sure is expensive.  I lucked out when I rented my place in that the landlord paid the broker fee.

My muffins tasted even better today, although I won't put as much ground clove spice in next time.

Hug your loved ones today, because not everyone gets to hug theirs every day when they are working so hard to survive.