Lost in Translation

"Yeah, we're trying something new for a restaurant. Almost tasteful, but not quite. You know. At the edge of taste."

I thought it said "Tu-na Back Rub"

Want one?
Aromatherapy free of charge.

Corny Island

It seems I've recently been many a place where bathing in Purell upon leaving seems a good idea.

Which brings me to my trip to Coney Island with the kiddos last week. It only took me four years to get there, but then, I've not been to the Statue of Liberty or the top of the Empire State building yet, either.

Coney Island was fascinating in a run-down, decrepit kind of way. I caught glimpses of the past glory... if I squinted my eyes so the grime and peeling paint weren't so obvious, the hot dog stands and carnival games became quaint and old-timey. As is usually the case, people watching was the main attraction. And boy howdy. Were the people there an attraction. Notice I said an attraction, not necessarily attractive...

And Then There's This Guy

Sometimes I have to be at work at 6 in the morning. Early, right? That means I'm on the subway platform by 5:15, because although it's only a ten minute train ride to work, the trains run so sporadically at that time in the morning that I've got to overcompensate.

Not long ago on one of those early mornings, this groggy fellow got a little too comfortable on his mustard yellow plastic seat. He was so sound asleep (or something else) that he tipped off the seat and stayed asleep on the floor. Everyone around him, including me, ascertained that yep, his chest was still rising and falling, and let him be.

What Does That Taste Like, Exactly?

Smog with a dash of grime, perhaps?
Mmmm.... I love the flavor of metropolis on my tongue.

New York Lexicon Definition 8: Lake Missagain

Lake Missagain (noun)

• The puddle of water that forms curbside at every corner after heavy rains or melting snow. The one that I try to step over and inevitably misjudge the size of. Dangnabbit.

Well, He Often IS a Turkey Buzzard.

Let's Get This Potty Started: A Haiku

Auto flush broken
I remain oblivious
Dancing in the stall

C'mon. You know you've done it too.
You finish your business, stand up, and watch anxiously for the autoflush to kick in.
But it doesn't.
You wait.
It doesn't.
So what do you do? You wave your hands in front of the sensor, shimmy your hips a bit, mime sitting down and standing up again. And before you know it, you're doing the autoflush dance.

Or is it just me?

Unsolved Mysteries

How'd that get there? I found this at the end of Pier 45.


If, while walking through the city, you pay attention to what's on the sidewalk (and you'd be unwise not to), you'll notice any number of items lying in the most unlikely places. For me, it's a bit of a game to create the back stories to those things. Most often, the setting to the story is the middle of the night, and various and sundry characters play the lead role, pursuing deeds of darkness, romance, and adventure.

And this glove? It was placed there by a conscientious junkie, don't you agree?

New York Lexicon Definition 7: Repress

Repress (verb)

• Def. 1: What an impatient person does when, while waiting for the elevator, he/she looks at the elevator button, sees that I've already pushed it, and proceeds to push it again anyway. As if my initial push is insufficient to call the elevator.
• Def. 2: What I must to to the feelings of annoyance that arise when Def. 1 occurs.

What.

Are you saying you don't have citywide pillow fights in your town?

I shudder to think of all the potential bed bugs, drool, dust mites, etc that were being so fiercely flung.

New York Lexicon Definition 6: Astoraphobia

Astoraphobia (noun)

• The sense of disorientation and anxiety that a New Yorker, accustomed to shopping in tiny corner bodegas, feels upon entering a large, brightly lit Walmart Supercenter

Not to be confused with Astoriaphobia, which is an unnatural fear of a quaint neighborhood in Queens.

New York Lexicon Definition 5: Stingikin

Stingikin (noun)

• The single pathetic, tissue-thin, sorry-excuse-for-a napkin that New York restaurants sometimes give their take out customers. These "napkins" disintegrate prior to any actual contact with skin.
  

An unlimited supply of napkins is not the norm in the city, and for anything beyond the stingikin, one must beg, plead, and glance desperately at spilled drink, chocolate-covered face, or other applicable mess.