very simple

When I called back during the day to lodge a formal complaint about Sunday night, they gave me a big fat credit, so I don’t hate them anymore (They were also surprised that I hadn’t been immediately offered one on Sunday night, so apparently it was a good thing I called back).

Things that pissed me off this weekend…

• So, the hot chocolate festival was completely lame yesterday – I stopped by, but didn’t even take any pictures because it was actually somewhat pathetic (and after all the hype!). The ice rink? was "synthetic ice" that you could skate on with ice skates, but was so small that you couldn’t fit more than a few people a a time. The "sidewalks piled with snow that would be imported in? was chunks of week old sidewalk snow from last weekend’s blizzard, that was impossible to play in. As I walked down the street I could feel palpable disappointment in the parents and kids that I passed. Oh, and for all the hype about the hot chocolate itself, City Bakery was apparently charging $2 for a sample-size cup. So I essentially walked by making like I was just going over to sixth avenue, lest anyone think this "festival" was my actual destination. I don’t know if they thought the blizzard would negate their need to import snow, or if it was a little too warm to make things work (it was actually in the mid 30s), but it was quite poorly executed. I’m actually mad at myself for telling other people about it.
• Thanks, New York Times, for giving away the "major plot twist" to Million Dollar Baby in the friggin’ headline. Hint: Don’t click on the link if you don’t want to know. And putting a disclaimer in the second paragraph of the article doesn’t exactly work when your headline is "Groups Criticize ‘Baby’ for Message on [XXXXXXXXX]". Some of us actually haven’t seen the film yet, even here in New York where it’s actually been playing.
• And in my personal life, I woke up this morning with what appears to be a stye in my left eye. Which really, really sucks. my eyelid is swollen and I look like I got punched in the face. And I’m stuck wearing my glasses, which also sucks because the lack of peripheral vision will give me a massive headache by the end of the day.
• Oh, and Fresh Direct forgot one of the boxes in my order last night. The one with all of the Diet Coke (among other things). And when I called them, they’re all "we can deliver it from 2-4 on Wednesday," forcing me to point out that the reason I’m scheduling deliveries at 10pm on Sunday nights is precisely because I work during the week. and then when we finally figure out a new deliver time for the missing $20 worth of groceries? The guy is like, "and we won’t even charge you for delivery!" in this tone that is totally like he’s doing me a solid. My response? an incredulous "well I certainly hope not, as you guys fucked up, and not only would charging me for a second delivery in this circumstance be unethical, I’m pretty sure it would be illegal as well…"

Wow. now I feel a little bit better.

I know it’s just a puff piece about Celebrity Big Brother, but if the Times can’t get this easily checkable piece of information correct, it’s no wonder Judith Miller still thinks there are WMDs…

I hadn’t seen a movie in a while, so I took myself to see House of Flying Daggers yesterday afternoon. It’s really the most visually stunning movie that I’ve seen in quite some time. And the story is so engrossing, that two hours later, when the movie ended, I couldn’t understand why the screen had gone black – I seriously thought that only half that time had gone by – I could have easily sat there for another hour or two.

The theater crowd, on the other hand, drove me up a wall. People around me kept talking, as if a subtitled movie means that no one cares about the dialogue, and there were at least three cellphones that went off in the middle of the show. Then, the woman in front of me actually made a phone call in the middle of the film. And these weren’t teenagers. This woman was around 40. I kicked her seat.

The other thing I didn’t get? The people who exploded in laughter at really inappropriate times. It was like, ooh, funnily dressed Chinese people – clearly a source a humor. I never understand when crowds have reactions like that. Do they not realize that they’ve gone to see a foreign-language martial arts movie set in the ninth century?

And while I’m at it, what’s with the people who roll into the theater after the previews start and can’t understand why the only seats left are in the front row? Apparently showing up late and talking through the previews isn’t just for old ladies anymore.

The MTA is proposing new rules (again) in an attempt to enforce civility on the subway. What fun. Most of it is common sense, but apparently some folks, like the guy in the photo, seem to think that they walk by floating on a cloud of air that keeps their shoes from picking up any of the detritus of our city streets.

My personal favorites? The "pole-huggers" – those folks who seem to think that the way to utilize the center pole is by leaning their entire body up against it so that no one else can hold on. I know that it’s actually an attempt to not touch the pole with their bare hands because of some kind of germophobia, but they should just do what the rest of us do – wash their hands as soon as they get to where they’re going. Or wear gloves. I have a tendency to intentionally wedge my hand between the pole and this type of person, just to annoy them.

But apparently the new rules are also going to attempt (again) to reintroduce the photography ban (which some police seem to already believe is in effect). I’d like to see how long it lasts when the police start ticketing, en masse, groups of tourists who haven’t read the rules before boarding the subway. I understand the intent of the law, but it seems a bit overbroad (and frankly, the terrorists are sneaky – they’ll figure out how to take pictures with non-obvious cameras – they’re not going to be the ones taking pictures of their drunken friends on New Year’s Eve).

Ahh, Rockefeller Center at Christmastime. There’s nothing quite like working half a block away from every single tourist to visit the city at this time of year (well, except actually working at Rock Ctr, like one of my best friends does). It’s like they’ve never seen a tree before.

This is the time of year when us "natives" (or "sort of" natives) start getting treated like tourist attractions in our own right. I got told to move in four different languages last week while waiting for the bus (To be fair, the bus stop is in the direct line of site for the gift-wrapped Cartier flagship store). Oh, and two weeks ago I ended up being the photographer for a group of extremely drunk irish tourists. That was fun (actually, it was kind of amusing, and since I was waiting for a friend, I had time). But I couldn’t understand a damn thing they were saying, even though they were clearly speaking english. Luckily, I was perceptive enough to figure out that they wanted Radio City Music Hall in the background.

But this is the time of year when the crowds near my office become pretty much unbearable. For any tourists who actually read this, I’ll reiterate something I’ve said before: Have some cognizance of the fact that the people who live and work here actually live and work here. We don’t have time to tiptoe behind you while you meander slowly, four across, down the sidewalk. The only window display you are supposed to stop and look at is Saks Fifth Avenue, and if you want to look at that display, please get in the carefully provided line indicated by the very obvious velvet rope they set up. It’s there for a reason. Trust me when I say that you’re not the first person to think of taking a picture pretending to "hold up", or lean against the Empire State Building from the opposite corner. Or the Flatiron building.

If you’re going to a show? please do not eat at the Olive Garden. or Red Lobster. really. You came all the way to New York City. Break out of your comfort zone a little bit. And don’t complain about the prices. You knew it was expensive before you planned the trip. Unless, of course, you’ve been forced at gunpoint to pay for a meal at Alaine Ducasse. That’s expensive. You can go down to Chelsea and visit my friend Vinnie’s restaurant, and get a decent meal for a reasonable price (and hey, the second to last time I was there? so was Daniel Day Lewis, dressed remarkably like a bike messenger – I’m embarrassed to say that my dad recognized him before I did).

And now I’m rambling a bit. and a bit off track. Other hints? read the bus route before you get on the bus. While I do find it endlessly amusing when people start freaking out on the M1 when it turns down 40th street (instead of going straight down 5th Avenue), the big neon electric sign on the front of the bus that says "via Park Ave South", should be a bit of a clue. And yelling at the driver that he’s going the wrong way? Really isn’t going to win you any points. When trying to orient yourself in the Madison-Park-Lexington part of town? Remember that Park is essentially 4th Avenue. Madison and Lexington are "extra", and fall on either side of Park. Actually, pick up John Tauranac’s Manhattan Block by Block. It’s the handiest book I’ve ever owned. Tauranac redesigned the NYC subway maps a few decades ago, making them readable, and he’s been doing the same for the rest of NYC ever since.

That’s all for now. But maybe you’ll get to see our mayor in a silly hat. Apparently he’s fond of them.

Well, it looks like my idea to buy a new lamp was a good one, as the new floors are definitely being added. Check it out:

I was going through some of my old entries, and I came across the one with the letter from our management. I’m just wondering what happened to the supposed “agreement” in place:

…Per the agreement, the scaffolding should only be up for 47 days

Hmm. The letter was sent around in August. It’s now November. I’m no math genius, but I’m pretty sure it’s well past 47 days, and, as y’all can see from the photos, the scaffolding in the courtyard has only gotten more substantial.

[They] are recessing the walls in the courtyard.., which will allow more sunlight… It will be a nicer view out your window when all is said and done. [I suppose this should allay my fears about them adding 3 more floors to the building].

I guess I was a little too optimistic about that one!

I should also point out that since that letter was written, my building has changed management (again!). So there’s no one around to even enforce the supposed agreements, since they were with the old management company. Plus, I’m sure these guys have the permits in place to add the floors, and we’re all renters, so we’d simply be told to move if we’re unhappy. Oh well. Time to start obsessing over Corcoran.com again.

Most of the time, I absolutely love living in NYC, and I praise it to everyone I encounter. In fact, my parents (who moved out of the city to the ‘burbs to raise us) could have told you stories of my youth where my only goal in life was to live in Greenwich Village. I had no idea what I actually wanted to do, but whatever it was, I was going to live on Christopher Street. Normally, one of the best things about living here is the ability to exist without owning a car (and, in fact, make fun of people who pay $500/month for a parking spot). But sometimes, I have a really crappy morning, and today’s bad morning was courtesy of the MTA.

I actually left my apartment early this morning, energized for work (odd for any day, particularly a Monday). Got to the NRW stop at 23rd and Broadway by 9, figuring I’d be at work by 9:15. then I stood on the platform. and stood. and watched the express trains go whizzing by on the express track. At about 9:20, I noticed an R train (always local) on the express track, and thought that was quite odd. THEN, the first announcement is made. Thanks to an earlier R train at 8th street with stuck doors, ALL trains are running express from Canal to 34th (thereby bypassing my stop). At this point? about 200 people on the platform. Who now all have to squeeze back out the turnstile so that we can book it up the stairs and to another station. The MTA should be absolutely prohibited from raising fares until, at the very least, they improve their communications system.

And did I mention that of all mornings, today was the day I decided to break in my new boots? Thanks MTA, just in time for below-freezing weather, my feet will now be wearing nothing but backless mocassins for the next week.

Last year, the NY Times did a series of articles on travel-related pet peeves, which I blogged about at the time. Now, they’ve focused in on annoying pedestrians, particularly those who become oblivious to their surroundings while walking and talking on cellphones at the same time. Yet again, they show an uncanny timeliness with my own life, as I almost punched someone last week who was showing some particularly egregious behavior. In the middle of morning rush hour, this idiot parked himself, in order to have a conversation, halfway up the stairs to the F train at 23rd street. The stairs, being only wide enough to comfortably fit two people across (one set of people up, one set of people down), and a train having just let off a bunch of people who were correctly walking up their side of the stairs, my only option was to actually threaten to push this idiot down the stairs. So what did he do? he walked down one step. So yeah, I kinda pushed him (but into the bannister, not down).

Maybe this is a good time for a lesson for all people attempting to walk in NYC, particularly with the influx of visitors we’re getting this week. Walking on a crowded sidewalk is very much like driving. If you stop short, someone will walk into you. If you insist on zig zagging while walking, someone will sideswipe you. No, you can’t walk four across in one direction – the one person walking in the opposite direction (or the crowd of people gathering behind you because you’re walking too slowly) is not obliged to get out of your way. If you’re a tourist, don’t take pictures of the locals without their permission, assuming we’re all here for your enjoyment (of course we don’t mind if we end up in the background of a legitimate picture, but we are not to be considered tourist attractions in and of ourselves). If you insist on taking pictures of every tall building, do it quickly (or better yet, buy a postcard – I guarantee it will be a better shot) – don’t stand there for ten minutes trying to keep people from walking down the sidewalk so that you can line up your shot. And, finally, if you need to ask for directions, try to ask someone who doesn’t look like they’re rushing to catch a train or get to work (Perhaps ask one of the multitude of people stopped at a "Don’t Walk" sign or the ubiquitous bus stops) – we’re usually happy to help, but when we’re obviously in a rush (say when I’m running to catch the bus about to leave the stop), you’re actually the rude one for trying to stop us, not the other way around.

For more on the absolute inanity that is the NBC Olympic coverage, this Slate article has a great analysis of the infantilization of gymnasts (in this case including several in their mid-20s). Because when you spend 15-20 years punishing your body into becoming an Olympic powerhouse, what you want to do is answer stupid questions about who takes the longest to wake up in the morning. A snippet:

Then NBC Sports reporter Andrea Joyce turned to Bhardwaj and Hatch, the two twentysomethings:

JOYCE: You guys, the two of you, are about 10 years older, almost, than the rest of your teammates. Who’s going to be the mother hen? Are you?who’s going to be the mom of the group?

BHARDWAJ: I don’t think there needs to be a mom.

HATCH: No, no.

JOYCE: There’s not going to need to be a mom?

KUPETS: Yeah, we’re just teammates.

JOYCE: All right, now we’re getting?just the what?

KUPETS: Just teammates.

JOYCE: All right. But now we’re getting to the really important stuff, because you guys are going to be spending a lot of time together. ? Who’s the one who has to be shaken a couple more times to wake them up?

KUPETS: I don’t know.

HATCH: I think everybody’s really disciplined and …

In the end, Joyce was forced to ask in despair: "Who’s the clown? No clowns? Oh, this is all going to have to come out eventually. ?"

My favorite part is the absolute befuddlement about the fact that a pair of 25-year olds don’t actually need to mother a group of 17-year olds who actually have real mothers who are probably in Athens! I could almost understand these questions if they came from Couric, since she’s just generally a moron, but this was the "sports reporter"!

At least the gymnasts understand the definition of professionalism.